Part 17 (1/2)

”Not unless you have a time machine. Or you know where I can get a lot of money fast.”

You tell her, ”I have a hundred and fifty eight dollars in my bank account. You can have it.”

Half a smile. ”You're cute, Claire.” Dakota runs the back of a gloved hand across her eyes. ”Wanna know something? Men suck.”

”Steve and Bo don't,” you say. The new neighbors, who smile and wave, stop to toss a Frisbee or watch bike tricks. They're also the only people you've ever seen who always dress nice, even on weekends, and whose clothes never look wrinkled like maybe a wizard brought two department store mannequins to life.

”That's different, they're h.o.m.os.”

You're not entirely clear what the word means. You've heard it used before boys at school call each other that all the time but have never been sure till that moment it's a real thing. ”I know.”

Dakota unfolds the Swiss Army knife from her pocket, the blade catching a slice of the winter moon. ”You're the lookout, ok?” She runs across the street, crouched low, toward the man's car before vanis.h.i.+ng into shadow. The car sinks corner by corner.

Through the window inside, oblivious, the man lifts the little kid up high and spins him around. A woman watches and claps.

Dakota jumps back in, breathing hard, her nose red. Smiling, if only for the moment. ”The blade broke off,” she says, holding up the incomplete knife. ”Piece of c.r.a.p. No wonder the Swiss never fight anybody.”

She honks the horn three long times before driving away.

Back at home, the two of you have coffee cake and root beer. ”Tonight is our secret, ok?” Dakota says. ”No one else gets to know.”

”I won't tell.”

”You have to swear.”

”I swear.”

Dakota stares at you for what feels like five minutes, with eyes ringed in smudged mascara. ”I trust you, Claire. You're my favorite girl in the whole world.”

You and Meredith have secrets, but none like this, which seems something altogether more serious, beyond your middle school games. Maybe you and Dakota are best friends now.

Dakota doesn't smile again that night.

As time pa.s.ses, you have ideas about the nature of the secret she's keeping. If it was anyone other than Dakota, there would be a likely explanation like what supposedly happened to Jeanette Jordan but you simply can't picture your neighbor doing something with a guy who has a mustache. Disgusting.

Claire sticks her tongue out and catches a snowflake. A car engine from somewhere disturbs the silence momentarily, like a boat crossing calm water. She lies on her back in the street and makes a snow angel.

If she wanted to really disappear, this would be the time. Her footprints would give her away, but if more white comes it will be like she'd never been here.

Like there was never a person named Claire Rollins.

WINTER BREAK.

56.

Cameron wakes at 10 a.m. on the first Monday of break, makes two Eggo waffles and tops each with a scoop of chocolate ice cream, then sits down to watch TV. Rosemary left for England yesterday and his plan is not to think about her while she's gone. Well, not to think about her much. He certainly won't spend every moment doing so.

Halfway through The Price is Right he can't think about anything else, not even the hot model Janice. He takes the wallet-sized copy of Rosemary's senior portrait from his desk drawer and stares at it; he could do so all day.

He has to get out of the house.

”Let's go do something,” he says to Bryce on the phone. ”We can see that movie about the killer car. Christine.”

”I'm sick.”

”So don't kiss me, f.a.g. Come on, we'll go to the arcade too.”

”I can't, ok? Sorry.”

Cameron still has to get out of the house.

After lunch at Lottaburger, he wanders around Grand Central to kill time. ”Yo, b.i.t.c.h!” Geoff shouts in the music section. ”I'm here to get a present for my girlfriend. Prolly some jewelry. Chicks dig that.”

Cameron has never heard of this girlfriend before; he wishes Bryce were here for confirmation.

Geoff goes on to explain he also wants Michael Jackson's ”Thriller” tape but doesn't have enough money for both. ”So I may just steal this.” Suddenly everyone likes it since the video with the zombies came out.

”Dude, they have hidden cameras and stuff,” Cameron says.

”You think I can't beat those?” Geoff laughs. ”Just kidding. Or maybe I'm not kidding, maybe I already have the tape stashed in my underwear. Nah, Michael Jackson sucks anyway.”

In the parking lot, where Geoff has somehow followed Cameron out, he says, ”So what are we doin' now?”

The sign at Coronado mall welcomes them to Holiday Wonderland. They're relegated to parking on the outskirts of the lot, stepping through ice and slush to the entrance. Inside, garlands, giant candy canes, disembodied voices singing Christmas carols. People everywhere, some appearing no more than pairs of legs connected to ma.s.ses of bags and boxes. Kids bounce in line for Santa Claus, who holds court on his throne under a tinseled gazebo. Plastic reindeer stand watch in puffy cotton.

The songs change from ”Winter Wonderland” to ”Sleigh Ride” to ”Silent Night.”

In the arcade, the boys debate whether Dragon's Lair, which has real cartoon figures instead of regular graphics, is worth fifty cents per play. Cameron says no, having been burned multiple times already by miscommunication between the joystick and the knight. Geoff says yes, and all his quarters are gone in five minutes.

The movie theater is a big one two different screens! and after Christine (cool deaths but a disappointing amount of s.e.x), Cameron starts toward the exit in the lobby when Geoff stops him. ”Watch and learn.” He walks up to the usher, a college kid in a bowtie and vest, and spins a story about forgetting his wallet in the other auditorium. Cameron looks out toward the lobby so his face won't be a.s.sociated with this pathetic lie.

Then they're walking into Scarface without paying anything. ”That's how you do the Obi-Wan Ken.o.bi s.h.i.+t,” Geoff says.

In the dark, Geoff grins and makes weird sounds as Tony Montana dispenses b.l.o.o.d.y vengeance with a variety of weapons. Cameron slumps low in his seat, convinced the usher is about to burst in with a team of employees. They'll drag the two lowlifes from the auditorium while the rest of the audience shakes their heads at the state of youth today.

About halfway through the movie, he stops worrying about being busted and gawks in fascination at the couple necking hot and heavy down in front. First, who sits in the front row when the place is mostly empty? And who comes to a movie like Scarface to make out? Soon both boys are looking back and forth from the couple to the bloodbath unfolding on the screen. Geoff says, ”Come on, baby, go down on him.”

The lights come on the couple is still going at it. ”My girlfriend and I do that all the time,” Geoff tells Cameron. The couple stops and stands, realizing they're not in the dark anymore.

It's Zaplin.