He was like what happened yesterday? I told him I passed my menu test. He said I didn’t have to take one. I was like I don’t know.
Then he said that lady’s rough. From yesterday. If I was up there I would have told you but I was on grill. I said you know her? He was like yeah, Barbara. She knows the answers to all the questions but asks anyway. I said why? and he said to get free food when you fuck up. He said was that it?
I was like what do you mean? and he said, well, you know that guy’s got a rep, right? I was like yeah. He said I saw him touch your ass yesterday.
I was like that was an accident.
He was like come on girl, are you dumb?
I said I don’t think it’ll happen again. It’s fine.
I didn’t think of it until today. Until then. Maybe him not touching my ass is gonna make people notice. I mean, Dalton saw him do it yesterday, so if he stops people will think something is wrong. Maybe I should tell Gary to grab it and I’ll tell him to stop. But if I do that he’ll get mad.
I don’t know.
Maybe I should quit, like everyone says. Deal. Like Ross.
I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out. But it makes sense. He’s always at school. I thought it was for practice. Or lifting weights.
Anyway, I did early shift, so it was Judy all day. She came by and congratulated me and said we need to talk in the office.
She asked if I had ever been in there before. I said yeah, when I was talking to Gary.
She said this is about him. He can be out of line. I was like what do you mean? and she said to women. The only way to deal with him is to set boundaries. I was like what do you mean again and she said the first time he lays a finger on you tell him to keep his hands to himself. He’s all bark, you understand?
I said yeah.
She said girls who do not put their foot down quit. And you seem like the kind of girl I wouldn’t mind working with. I don’t say that to everyone. So be careful.
I said thanks.
24.
ZACHARIAH LOVED MAKING BREAD. THE FIRST time, years ago in home ec, his teacher (what was her name? he couldn’t remember) showed him the process. His bread came out perfectly. He never needed a recipe again after that. And not just bread—everything he baked or cooked was great.
He mixed the ingredients gently. One-handed wasn’t so hard. He just needed to slow the process was all. But the pain was all over. Back, chest. Muscles he didn’t know he had screamed in protest as he moved. And the blood in his pee, though starting to subside, was still more concentrated than he’d ever seen it.
The pain was a constant reminder of how stupid he’d been in thinking he had powers. Or could control footballs with his mind. Or people.
But the prospect of Zachariah’s life staying as it had been, staying in Armbrister, was too much to bear—worse than a dozen of his dad’s beatings. There had to be something else besides getting picked on every day, then when he finished school, going to work at the mill. He had to finish Love Balloon. And even that might not work. He had to think it would, but he knew it probably wouldn’t.
If he’d had powers, he could have used them the day before to keep himself from getting picked on.
Every day he removed his jacket when he arrived at school. The day before he’d done so immediately upon entering the building, walking right past Dixon Dove’s locker in the process. She wasn’t there, thank God. Neither, he noticed, was the old, smiling security guard.
Had he kept his jacket on, maybe it would have been okay. But he hadn’t thought it through.
Zachariah realized he did that sometimes. Like at the L’il Bee. The guy behind the counter might have helped if he’d run in and said listen, I just got in a fight and my dad will kill me if I don’t have a bottle of barbecue sauce when he gets back from the liquor store. The first one, dripping thickly from his head, would have been all the proof he needed. Please, Zachariah could have said. I’ll pay you back.
But he hadn’t run in. He’d frozen when Dixon Dove came around the corner. And she’d left, laughing, after upending the bottle over his head. He’d sat against the back wall, unable to stop his sobbing.
The realization that he’d been lying to himself hurt more than the fresh finger marks in his tietz, or the mix of sauce and paint in his eyes. He’d pretended that his weight gain had been balanced by getting a superpower, like in the movies. Which couldn’t happen. He wanted it to and had tried to convince himself, time and again, that it had. Even though he forgot for days at a time, while working on Love Balloon or making bread, that he—supposedly—had powers. And even though he still got picked on all the time. And even though his dad hit him.
But the jacket came off and everyone was on him. He’d wear it from now on, but word would get around, if it hadn’t already. It always did.
He had to find some way to keep Dixon Dove at bay. He couldn’t fight her—maybe he could have before, had he not frozen, but certainly not now, with his cast. And hoping his arm would cause her to leave him alone was stupid. He couldn’t sit around and hope. Not anymore.
He had to do something.
He greased the pan and put his dough on the metal table, dusted with flour. Kneading took more time one-handed.
The way she had touched him. Before she got mad at him—before she called him a perv—he felt like he was talking to her. Like they could be friends. If there was some way to impress her, maybe she’d do it again.
And as he mixed he had an idea.
* * *
The librarians were nicer to him than usual.
“Oh,” Ms. Petrie said, “what happened?”
He thought back to what his dad said in the car.
“I fell down the basement stairs,” he said.
She looked at him hard. “Really?”
He nodded. “I slipped. On the rug in front of them.”
She kept her hard look.
“I was getting some meat. Out of the freezer.”
Her face softened. “Well, I’m sorry to hear it.”
There was nothing in the basement except boxes of his mother’s old stuff his dad didn’t ever throw away. If anyone came, they’d see this. And through the story.
He didn’t want to go to a boy’s home. Even though, in the back of his mind, he thought it might not be so bad. The kids there wouldn’t know about him pissing his pants. Or that he’d been a normal kid at the end of last year.
But it would be bad. He knew it.
Why did he always do that? Lie to himself? Try to convince himself about things that weren’t real?
He had to stop.
25.
STEPPED OUTSIDE. COULDN’T TELL HOW COLD until then. Whatever weather was in the apartment stayed there. Sweater, sweatshirt. Bedroom freezing. Window frame. Air coming in. Stuffed it. Old socks. Helped a little. Bought the plastic. Put it over the glass. No hair dryer. Couldn’t afford one. Thought the plastic helped. Maybe only wanted it to.
Warmer outside than in. On his walk to work. Liked to think that. “I’m going to work.” Even though it was training. He followed the guy. Mark. Always smoking. Radio on a news station. That’s what Doris likes, Mark said. Keeps her informed. He liked music better. But easier with news. Didn’t have to worry. No headaches.
After work Mark brought out beers. Said here, man. Have one. Kept him on for close. Said eight to five was opening. But you should see everything. Meant see after we’re done. Understood that. Everyone sat. Watched the Celtics game on TV. Drank beers. Talked about cars. Customers. No one paid attention to him but Mark.
Wasn’t hard. Tricky maybe. Hard to figure out the lifts. The nozzles. But not bad. Little things in each one. Drains. Filter sizes. Where fluids were. Which kind. A lot to remember. Charts helped. But he wanted to know. You have to do everything once to get it, Mark said. Second day. Maybe more than once. But you’ll get it. He smoked and asked war questions. Didn’t mind, mostly. Nice to be asked. Talk to someone.
Did you kill guys?<
br />
No one ever asked that. Who would? Artie, maybe. But he didn’t. Let him talk when he wanted to.
Yeah.
A lot?
Well, he said.
They had been driving to the village. Him in the back. Bunch of guys. No canopy. Usually played music. Psych them out. None that time. Remembered that. Didn’t know why. They usually did.
Saw three. Behind a dune. One had a grenade. Cocked back to throw. Shot him first. Without even thinking. Like he wasn’t in his head. No thoughts. Just shooting. Watched himself do it. From above. Rifle on his back then in his hand and opened up and the grenade the guy was cocking stayed back there and after he shot and shot it exploded.
The other two had rifles. Them next. First went down hard. Both got off shots. One missed his face. Felt the air change. Like a pull. Heard bullets hit. Behind. A clang. Thump. Scream. Didn’t know who. A clang. Clangclang. Back there with Long, Donaldson, a few others.
The other one kept shooting. Got him. Headshot. Red spray, gray. Hung there for a second in a cloud. Too far away to taste it. Like metal in his mouth. But that was later. Body fell backward shooting into the air. Like a sack of potatoes. Screams. I’m hit oh fuck I’m hit aaaaaaaagggghh. Hit the deck. Waited for more.
None came.
Truck stopped. Long back there. Working on Donaldson. That’s who it was. Leg. Thigh. Didn’t look bad. Not much blood. Wouldn’t know it by the screaming. Aggggghhhh it fucking hurts. Long saying it’s not bad, man, Jesus shut up already. Arrrrghhhhh hurry up, man, gahhhhhhgh.
Peck in the passenger seat. Rifle out his window. Jumped out. Walked around the back. Crouched. Hand on his Cowboys star. That was some shooting, Eggleton.
He watched himself say, that guy had a grenade. He was trying to kill us.
Their rifles woulda finished the rest of us, Long said. He was holding Donaldson’s leg. You saved our asses.
Didn’t think. Saw them, reacted. Just like he was trained. Protect your buddies. Your brothers.
Someone should put you up for a star, Frick said.
Face flushed. Felt it. A star. Get home. Show Auntie Blake. Look at this. War hero. Saved some guys. But she died. Never got to tell her. And they never recommended him. Or they did and nothing happened. Maybe because of the prisoners, and what happened with Peck, Long. Could you take back paperwork? Lose it?
He didn’t tell Mark about going back out because of Donaldson. To get revenge. Any of the other stuff. The video. Could’ve. Would’ve been easy. AC/DC blasting. On the drive, in the room. The video. Everybody ready. Looking. For someone. Knew he shouldn’t. But wanted to.
Wow, man. That’s fucked up.
Yeah. Felt the bullets go by. Inches.
Seriously.
After, with beers, Mark told Luis that Roy killed three dudes over there.
No shit, Luis said. They shootin’ at you?
Yeah. Me and my buddies.
How did it feel?
Didn’t feel like anything. Didn’t feel bad. If he hadn’t shot, more guys might’ve died. Him. He might have died. Or the grenade might have hit him. Lose an arm, leg. Wheelchair. Auntie Blake pushing him around. Mad at him for getting hit. Sighing all the time. Reminding him. But she died. While he was over there. Wasn’t immediate family. Could’ve fought for time off to go to her funeral. Didn’t want to. Didn’t feel that bad.
The next day felt different. Everyone. Got quiet. Then started talking again. Hey, man, what’s up? Like the teacher walked into the room. Except they talked to him. Maybe like Peck. Respect. Because he killed. Mark the same, though. Just everyone else. Who hadn’t really talked to him. All introduced themselves. Marco. Juan. Dmitry. Andy. Asked how he was doing. If he needed help. That night, close again. Beers. SportsCenter. Then to Patterson’s. Didn’t ask if they wanted to come. Should’ve. They would. More beers. Pool. Lefty. Against no one. Wasn’t that good. Too much to drink. Empty stomach. Still did that sometimes. Three he felt. Wasn’t bad if he ate. Mac and cheese, ramen cups. But he didn’t. Couldn’t sink his shots. Warm, though. Garage was, too. But drafty. Moved around a lot. Helped.
No hurry to go home. Maybe work as much as he could. Overtime. Senior guys would get hours. He’d do it for free. Liked them. Sitting and bullshitting after work. Even during. Got their stories.
At home, letter on the table. Cessation of benefits. Good timing. Right when he got a job. He’d have to call the office. Hated that. Waiting on the phone. Dealing with robots. Especially after working. Talking all day. To people.
They talked about Ahmed. Never like oh, he’s from overseas. Wasn’t that. Everyone liked him. Dmitry was going to manage the new place. Mark was taking Dmitry’s job as Armbrister manager. He said Ahmed pays more than anyone. Everyone stays because he treats us good. Health insurance. Can you believe that shit? And dental! Fuckin’ A. I hadn’t been to the dentist in ten years before I started.
Had been in the garage so much. Since Monday. No walks. Missed them. But standing all day felt good. Leg felt strong. And not sitting. Bad for you. Walk on weekends. Days off. Weird fall. Cold but not too cold. Apartment made it feel colder. But sidewalk icy on the way down. Walked slow. Didn’t mind. Walk warmed him up. Then the garage would. It’d be a while. Doris said because of his hire date the first check would be three weeks. He could do it. But it’d be tight. Running out of money. Oil could wait. Cold at night, but close the place whether he got paid or not, then Patterson’s and to bed early. Stay warm like that. Get oil with second check. Hopefully wouldn’t need it much. Doubted that. Garage news stories said coldest in twenty years. Colder in his apartment. Maybe the library on days off. Stay warm that way. Buy himself real cheese instead of that powdered shit. Maybe a steak. Figure out how to cook it in a pan. Like Auntie Blake. When he graduated. I do not agree with your choices, Royal, but I respect them. I can respect your decision. He thought about that. Thought it meant she was happy he left. That he was paying his own way. Even though he gave her rent money before he lost the mill job. Didn’t save anything. Stupid. Should have. Could have bought some oil. But he went out with Artie. Sox games. Loading dock beers. Great times. Wouldn’t trade them. But money would buy heat.
Mark there smoking already. Two packs a day, he said. How much did Artie smoke? He’d ask. Hadn’t talked to Artie since he started. They’d go out. Get beers. Compare notes. After the oil maybe a car. Thought it would be okay. Could drive to see Artie. No music. Just news. Wouldn’t have to walk. Too cold. Didn’t think Christa would mind. She was okay.
Hey, man, good morning.
Good morning.
What’s new?
Not much, he said. Wanted to tell him about the letter the same way he wanted to tell him about the prisoner. Didn’t. Knew he shouldn’t. Wanted to. Probably okay. But too soon. Went over to Patterson’s. Came home. Went to bed.
You go there a lot?
Yeah, he said. I play pool.
Any good?
He shrugged. I’m okay.
I never got any good at pool. Just drinking.
Roy laughed. You should come sometime.
Maybe I will.
Hang out after work watching the Celtics, then go play pool. Sounded good. Maybe Artie could go. Hey. This is my friend Mark. Manages Auto Emporium. They could go see the Sox. Hang out on weekends. Maybe go camping. Might show Mark his game. Watch this, he’d say. Start playing lefty. Guys would come in. Take them on. Lose the first few. Then switch. Win big. Make money. Beers all night.
Ahmed usually comes in on Thursdays, Mark said. Just so you know. You’re doing good.
What’s it like?
Just keep doing what you’re doing.
What’s that?
Ask questions. Pay attention. You’ll be fine.
Okay. Anything else today?
Same as usual.
26.
WHEN I GOT UP FOR SCHOOL Don was on the couch. I thought he was passed out but when I walked by he said goin’ to work? I said no, school.
&n
bsp; Then he was like you’re gonna mish me when I’m gone.
He was drunk at seven in the morning.
I asked when he was leaving, and he said in a few weeks. Then he said I’m gonna shpend my time on thish couch. And burped. It was a good one.
I told him I had to go to school. He said where’d you get that bike in the backyard? I said that’s my bike. He asked where I got the money to buy it and I told him at work. He said Gary Stites—which he slurred, Shtaytz—said you just finished training.
I forgot Don knew him so I said yeah, I borrowed some money from a guy at work. He said it better not be shtolen and I said no, it’s not, I told you I bought it. And he said it better not be dirty. I was like what do you mean? and he said you’re making minimum wage over there so how can you find someone to borrow money from? Something shtinks.
I said Don, I have to go to school and he was like if the bike isn’t shtolen the money’s from shomeplace elshe. I said I told you, I’m borrowing it from a guy at work and he said bullshit. Except he yelled it.
He almost fell when he stood up. He said I don’t think it’s drugsh. You don’t sheem the type. I don’t know what he meant by that. Then he goes it’s boysh, ishn’t it? I was like no, it’s from a guy at work and he was like it’s boysh. I wanted to be like Don, I like this girl Mary but I thought that would piss him off. He said you’re turning into a slut. I knew it. You’ll get knocked up. Your poor mother’s heart is going to break when I tell her. I was like no, I borrowed the money.
I remembered the laptop in my room. And the money. He probably goes in there and snoops when I’m at school. The fireworks. This. Jesus, all the stuff on here. I said I forgot a book, Don, I’ll be right back. He started yelling again. He was like bullshit, get back here. I went to my room and as fast as I could got everything from their hiding places into my bag. Then I took Catch-22 out and when I went back I was carrying it.
I was like Don, I’m late. He yelled since when do you give a fuck about school? I said I wanted to make something of myself and he said yeah, a whore and started toward me. He was standing in the way of both doors. I was like come on, Don, I’m late and he said where did you get the money? I said I told you, I borrowed it and he said I don’t believe you, you’re turning into a floozy. I laughed because come on, floozy? I couldn’t help it. He said what the fuck are you laughing at? and I said floozy. No one talks like that. He said a fucking whore, then, and was like you’re lying about shomething. Either that bike is shtolen or the money is. I said let me out.
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