Blank Confession by Pete Hautman Page A

about my father’s social skills.
    He missed the shot.
    â€œThat’s an
H
for you,” I said. “And you’re right. My dad’s okay.”
    â€œI like your sister, too.” Shayne laughed at the expression on my face. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask her out or anything.”
    Immediately, I did a mental flip-flop—I didn’t like that Marie was hot for him, but at the same time, it bugged me that he wouldn’t want to go out with her.
    â€œWhy not?” I said.
    â€œI just don’t want to get tangled up.”
    â€œYou got tangled up with Jon Brande,” I pointed out, going in for an easy lay-up.
    Shayne said, “I went over to his house yesterday.”
    I missed the shot. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
    â€œI talked to his dad. Well, sort of talked to him.” Shayne retrieved the ball and made a two-handed overhead shot from six feet behind the free throw line. “He told me to get lost.”
    â€œI hope Jon doesn’t find out,” I said.
    Shayne shrugged.
    We were tied at
H-O-R
when my dad came outside and started fiddling with the birdbath fountain in the side yard. The fountain had stopped working a few days before. He looked up, caught Shayne’s eye, and waved him over.
    â€œOh no,” I said.
    Naturally, the fountain was powered by a submersible pump. Five minutes later, Shayne and my dad were in the garage disassembling the pump, and I was shooting free throws all by myself.

    Later that night I was in my room working on my Trig homework when I looked up to see Marie standing in my doorway, pajamas on, arms crossed, leaning against the jamb.
    â€œWhat’s the deal with Shayne?” she asked.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I asked.
    â€œYou know. Does he have a girlfriend?”
    â€œNot as far as I know. I’ve only known him a few days.”
    â€œJon doesn’t like him much,” she said.
    â€œJon doesn’t like anybody.”
    â€œHe likes me. Sort of.”
    I didn’t say anything to that. She looked around my room as if seeing it for the first time. “You’re very neat,” she said.
    â€œI like to know where things are.”
    She half-smiled. “You were always that way. Putting your own clothes away when you weren’t even in kindergarten. This four-year-old neat freak.”
    I didn’t take offense at that. It was true.
    She said, “He should watch out. Shayne, I mean. He shouldn’t make Jon mad.”
    â€œIt wasn’t his fault. Shayne just tried to talk to Jon about the five hundred I supposedly owe him, which I don’t. Anyways, I don’t have it.”
    â€œDoesn’t Mrs. Garcia pay you every week?”
    â€œNot
that
much.”
    Marie thought for a moment, then sighed. “I guess I could try to talk to him again.”
    â€œAgain?”
    â€œI tried to talk to him once. I didn’t want to see you get tased again. I thought maybe if you paid him a little bit every week, it would work out.”
    â€œThat was
your
idea?”
    â€œIt was the best I could do.”
    â€œOh. Well, thanks, I guess.”
    â€œMaybe if I tell him you really don’t have the money, he’ll forget about it.”
    â€œHow come you’re being nice to me all of a sudden?”
    â€œI shouldn’t be nice to my baby brother?”
    â€œI’m not used to it, that’s for sure.”
    â€œShayne’s nice,” she said. “He listens when I talk.”
    â€œSo you’ve decided to be nice too?” Even as I said it, it hit me: That was exactly right. Marie had a fetish for the top dog in the pound, as her list of current and former boyfriends proved, but she also had this personality defect—okay,
quirk
—that made her act like whatever guy she was fixated on. With Jon, it was all about being totally self-centered and not caring about anybody else. But now, for the first time, my