“That’s a start, but this is going to require a longer conversation,” Benji’s mom said.
“You’re a millionaire, but I still worry.” Ms. Rannells pulled Felix in and kissed his forehead. “Please try not to give me a heart attack. I’m too young.”
“I won’t, Mom,” Felix said.
“And, Reggie,” Benji’s mom said, not quite done with the lecture. “I know they’re your employer.” She shook her head as she said the last word. “But they’re also kids. Call me if you have any questions. Rides to and from school and to the movies are normal twelve-year-old trips. A lift to Boston on a school day is not. Use your head.”
“I would never put my bosses in harm’s way,” he said.
Benji’s eyes grew wide. Reggie hadn’t exactly agreed with his mother. And by the look on her face, she knew it.
“Eat some breakfast,” she said to Benji. “And don’t be late for school.”
* * *
• • •
The morning quickly improved when Felix decided to ride to school with his mom. Not that Benji didn’t want Felix around. They were friends now. But with Felix and Freebie not part of the morning car pool, Benji could finally pull up to Stirling Middle School in the Bugatti.
The silver-and-black car resembled the Batmobile if Benji squinted at it. It sat low to the road and could probably slide beneath a big rig (like Benji had seen in several action movies). The controls and dashboard were black-and-gray carbon fiber except for a cherry-red start button. The leather-and-suede seats felt like a warm hug—like the car was saying “I love you, Benji.”
Unfortunately, Reggie wasn’t amazing at driving a stick. The car jerked and stalled all the way to school and in the drop-off line. It was the loudest vehicle among all the minivans and SUVs. Still, as he stepped out of the car, everyone took pictures. Even the teachers had their phones out. Benji smiled and posed next to the Bugatti. He knew most people would probably prefer a picture of just the car.
Mr. Palomino eventually waved Reggie away, but not before taking his own selfie in the passenger seat. Benji headed to his locker, where he was surprised to find Alma waiting for him. She sang to herself until she spotted him.
He ran his tongue over his braces. He wished he’d brushed a second time after breakfast.
“Here,” she said, handing him an envelope.
“What is it?”
“A thank-you card or an I’m-sorry card.” She paused and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t very nice to you at my house. I mean…You offered to take me to Disney World and I…I was judgey.”
“It’s fine,” he said.
“No.” She shook her head. “I should have been nicer.”
“You should have said yes,” he joked.
She shrugged. “Maybe next time.”
Benji did not know how to reply. The floor of the hallway looked wavy. The rows of lockers closed in. The lights got brighter.
“You okay?” she asked.
The bell rang before he could answer.
“See ya at lunch.” She smiled and left.
Benji still couldn’t understand what was happening. He looked at the envelope in his hands. The sweat from his palms made the ink in his name smear. He grabbed it by the corner and blew on the writing to preserve its perfection.
“You’re late,” a teacher reminded him from her doorway. “Homeroom has begun.”
“Sorry.” He gently placed the envelope inside his science notebook and rushed into the classroom. As Ms. Chenoweth took attendance, he used the cap of a pen to open the envelope carefully. He didn’t want to damage anything.
On the front of the card was Thank you, handwritten in scrolly letters surrounded by flowers and hearts (hearts!). Sure, hearts were an ordinary doodle and easier to draw than even stars. He tried not to let his own heart burst. On the inside was a short note.
Dear Benji,
Thank you for inviting me to Disney. I’m sorry I couldn’t go. (And sorry I acted that way.) You’re a nice guy.
Your friend,
Alma
He read it again and again until someone tore it out of his hand.
“Hey!” he yelled.
“What’s this?” Aidan waved the card around. “A love note?”
“No.” Benji shoved back his chair and stood up. He was taller than Aidan—he was taller than everyone. But they all knew he was more of a teddy bear than a grizzly.
Aidan read the note. “Ohhh. It’s from Alma.” He used the card to fan his face.
“Can I have that back?”
“Sure, Barney.” Aidan held out the card and dropped it just as Benji reached for it. The perfect card fluttered to the ground, and Aidan “accidentally” stepped on it as he walked out.
Benji scooped it up. The front had an imprint of Aidan’s sneaker. Benji felt like he wanted to hit something—or even someone.
Felix
Felix dribbled across the baseline, stopped just below the basket, and shot a fadeaway.
Swish!
“Ugh!” Benji replied.
“You’ve got this,” Felix said.
They’d rented the gym at the Freemont Country Club for two hours after school. They decided playing one-on-one wasn’t fair—Benji was huge, and Felix was fast. So they played Horse. But instead of spelling out horse, they spelled out money, and Benji already had M, O, N, and E. While Felix had only an M.
Benji took his turn and missed. Freebie chased down the rebound.
“Rematch?” Benji asked.
“We’ll play again after we spend a hundred thousand dollars,” Felix said. “That was the deal.”
Spending money felt like a constant job. Felix would rather play basketball and video games, but there were dollars to burn. For every round of Money they played, they agreed to take a break and spend money.
“I should probably give up basketball. You’ve already shattered my confidence,” Benji said, and Felix worried he might not be joking.
They sat on the bench and each opened a laptop. Underneath them, Freebie tried to chew through a basketball.
“What should we buy now?” Benji asked. “Another drone?”
“We’ve already bought three,” Felix said. “They’re still in the boxes.” The deliveries from Monday’s online shopping spree were flooding the hotel.
“Then let’s buy clothes,” Benji suggested. “You definitely need new clothes.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Felix wasn’t sure why he was getting defensive.
“They don’t cost millions.” Benji shook his head. “You like jeans, right?”
“Yeah.” It was all Felix wore except when playing basketball.
Benji tapped away on the keyboard. “Let’s see. World’s most expensive jeans?” He kept his eyes on the screen.
“Well?” Felix asked, petting Freebie.
“I found some at Neiman Marcus for four thousand dollars,” Benji said. “Wait! Wait! Check this out. It’s a site for movie memorabilia!” Benji turned his screen for Felix to see. “We can buy clothes that were worn by actors in movies!”
Felix nodded but didn’t share Benji’s excitement.
“We can buy a Stormtrooper costume for fifteen thousand dollars.” Benji dramatically pressed a button on his keyboard. “There! We just did. I wish Halloween wasn’t over.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“I don’t know.” Honestly, he didn’t have a favorite favorite.
“Do you like Lord of the Rings?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Because you now own Frodo’s pants for nine thousand dollars.”
“Lucky me.”
“And I’m getting the robe worn by Obi-Wan.” Benji danced in his seat but suddenly stopped. “Ew, it’s from P
hantom Menace. That’s a waste of twenty grand.”
“To us, there’s no such thing as waste,” Felix reminded him. He tried not to think what $20,000 would mean to his mom or Georgie.
“I really want a leather jacket worn in one of the Terminator movies,” Benji sighed. “But I can’t find one.”
“Your life is so hard,” Felix joked.
“Do you want me to stop?” Benji yanked his hands off the keyboard like a thief caught stealing.
“No. You’re doing great.”
“Yeah. I’m not good at a lot of things—like lay-ups, free throws, jump shots—but I can waste money.” Benji cracked his knuckles and got back to work.
“We’ve still got millions to spend, Benji,” Felix said. “There’s no way—”
“No. No. No!” Benji jumped up, knocking his laptop to the floor, and covered Felix’s mouth with his giant hand, which smelled like basketball leather. “No negativity. Be positive, buddy. We haven’t even looked at footwear yet!”
Felix nodded, and Benji released him. Felix expected Benji to buy something like slippers worn by Daniel Radcliffe in a Harry Potter movie. Nope, Benji filled his cart with vintage Air Jordans. He had $172,005 worth of sneakers in his online cart, ready to pay, when they checked in with Mr. Trulz. He said, “Only shoes in your sizes.” So Benji was limited to size 10 Jeters, Kobes, Transformers, and Blackouts for $77,010. Nothing was available in a size 6 for Felix, but he wasn’t disappointed, because he loved his Air Flights. He bought a sneaker-cleaning kit instead.
“Impressive. Let’s play one more game before I gotta go.” Felix grabbed a basketball from the rack. “I’m helping Georgie and Michelle with wedding stuff.”
“What kind of wedding stuff?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I can pick the cake or something. They feel like they need to include me in the plans because we’re paying for it.”
“Cake tasting sounds like something I’d be good at. Can I come?” Benji set aside his laptop.
“Sure.”
“And I’m only playing ball if you spot me a few letters. You have M, O, and N.”
“No. Just an M and O,” Felix replied.
“Fine. I go first.”
Benji dribbled to the free-throw line and sank a shot. A rare occurrence, if Felix was honest.
“That was lucky,” Benji admitted.
Felix took a ball and shot from the free-throw line. It skimmed the rim and missed.
“And now you have an N.” Benji dribbled beyond the three-point arc. “I’ve been playing basketball since I was four. My dad signed me up to play with the kids already in kindergarten and first grade. Everyone thought I was going to be a star. I was a foot taller than the others, and we used a six-foot-high basket. I could practically dunk.” He shot the ball, and it bounced off the backboard.
Felix grabbed the rebound. “You could dunk?”
“I said practically. Everyone—especially my parents—thought I was going to be great, and now I might not make the middle school team. My basketball career is over before it started.”
Felix didn’t know how to reply. Benji wasn’t the best player, but he was big, and that had to count for something. Felix made a simple right-handed lay-up and passed the ball to Benji.
“It’s just the one thing I really want. Ya know?” Benji took his ball and made the lay-up. “It would definitely make my parents happy. My dad is ready to rearrange his travel schedule to be at the games. If I have to tell him I’m not on the team…that’ll suck.”
Benji shot the ball.
And missed.
“I’m sure you’ll make the team,” Felix said. It was just words. Words that he hoped would make Benji feel better and would also change the subject.
Benji
As required, Benji got permission before leaving the hotel and spending Veterans Day in New York City. It was easy because Ms. Rannells, Georgie, and Reggie were all chaperoning.
“It’s one of the most expensive cities in the world,” Benji had said to Felix—not his parents. “We can do some real damage.”
To the parents, he had said, “It’s Veterans Day, and we want to go to New York to visit museums and stuff.”
Reggie drove them to the Metro-North station, and from there they took the ninety-minute train ride into the city.
“Where are we going first?” Felix asked when they arrived at Grand Central.
“Comic book store. It’s not far.” Benji adjusted his vintage Hermès bag on his shoulder. He’d stuffed it with bags of M&M’s and barbecue potato chips. Left empty, it sagged in the middle and just didn’t look right. Plus, snacks!—always a good idea.
“I’ve got an appointment to try on wedding gowns,” Georgie said. It was her sole reason for taking a day off work.
They split up. Ms. Rannells and Georgie headed off to a morning of fancy dresses, and the guys went to explore the world’s best literature.
Benji didn’t like regular books. The words on those pages twisted and seemed to move in front of his eyes. If he really focused, he could read about two sentences well, but by the time he got to the third or fourth, he’d have forgotten the first. Comics and graphic novels were different. The stories stuck. The words didn’t get messed up in his brain.
Using the map on his phone, Benji led them to the store. He pulled open the door, ran up the narrow stairs, and took a deep breath. It smelled of paper and ink and awesome.
“Excuse me,” Benji said to the green-haired girl behind the counter. “Do you have Action Comics number one? It’s basically Superman’s first comic.” He’d seen a YouTube video that said someone had spent three million dollars for a mint edition.
“I know, and no. We don’t have it.” She drummed her black fingernails on the glass counter.
“Look at that one.” Felix pointed to the rack behind the counter. They had an X-Men for $1,200. But Benji had a suspicion that these were not their best books. They probably kept the good stuff in the back.
“What are your oldest comics? I want to buy them.” He leaned on the counter.
“We have a Batman issue one. But you can’t afford it.”
“How much?” Benji knew he must look like a normal kid—well, a charming kid—coming into the store with maybe twenty dollars in his pocket. Next time, he should wear a suit so people would take him seriously.
“How much do you think?”
“A million dollars,” he answered, knowing it was really wishful thinking.
“Bingo,” the clerk said with no enthusiasm. She held out her palm and put her other hand on her hip.
“I’ll take three.” In a smooth move—he’d had plenty of practice—Benji whipped out his debit card and slapped it into her hand.
She didn’t move other than to raise an eyebrow. “We have one, and it’s forty-one thousand dollars.”
“Then I’ll take just one.”
“We also want that X-Men, a Captain America, and The Walking Dead,” Felix added.
“Ring ’em up!” Benji pointed to the debit card still in her hand. Then he added, “We’re Laura Friendly’s millionaire boys.” That usually worked in the Albany area. Hopefully, their fame extended to the city.
“I need to call my boss,” the girl said.
“No worries.” Benji smiled. “We’ll look around while we wait.”
They found Reggie flipping through some historical graphic novels.
“These are about the Spanish Inquisition. Brilliant work. You should check them out.” One cover was a mixture of fire and demons and men in robes. It didn’t look too bad.
“Sure,” Benji said. He grabbed a mesh basket by the door and threw in a Spanish Inquisition comic.
Then he went around the store and grabbed anything that looked interesting—which wasn’t hard in a comic book store. His basket
weighed five pounds in no time.
“Excuse me,” the girl behind the counter called. She held a phone to her ear. “Were you interested in other rare comics besides Batman?”
“Yes,” Felix answered before Benji.
In the end, they bought $68,980 in comic books—most of which they had shipped to the hotel. They shoved the five most expensive ones into Benji’s Hermès handbag.
“Let’s get lunch,” Benji suggested. “We should go to the fanciest restaurant in New York, where they serve thousand-dollar fish eggs.” He wrinkled his nose. “But I really want a burger.”
They found a restaurant, and after they ordered cheeseburgers (and one bean burger for Reggie), fries, and milk shakes, they pulled out the comics.
Benji slowly peeled back the plastic case. The waiter noticed and nearly lost his mind.
“Is that real? A Batman number one? You can’t open that. It’ll lose all its value.” He looked ready to tear it out of Benji’s hands. A few customers turned and looked at them.
“It’s mine” was all Benji could think to say.
“It’s literature,” Reggie added, stroking his dark beard. “It’s meant to be read and enjoyed. If Aristotle was here, he’d say everything has a telos—a purpose or what it’s meant to be. This comic book telos is not to reside under a plastic jail. This object has lost its purpose, and this boy will reestablish the intent, restoring order to the world.”
“What?” the waiter yelled.
“I’m confused too,” Benji said with a shrug. “He does this a lot. Mini–philosophy lectures that make no sense.” He almost felt bad for the waiter.
“It’s art. You can’t open it!” the waiter insisted.
“It’s definitely not art,” Benji said. “We’re not allowed art.”
“You can’t open it,” the waiter said again with hands clenched into fists.
“Yes, I can.” Benji slid the comic book out, and the waiter actually screamed. The manager had to come over, and they were given a new server who didn’t care about the cash value or telos of a comic book.
Felix and Benji read the Batman at the same time, both leaning over it. When the food came, Felix accidentally dropped a small blob of ketchup on one page. He froze as if waiting for someone to yell—maybe the waiter again. But Benji just turned the page with his greasy fingers.
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