the parking lot by his car. He sighed and grumbled to himself—he didn’t always want to talk and answer questions at lunch. Bill shook his head and let the door swing shut behind him. As he started down the office steps he saw the hood up on Melissa’s car, and realized they were looking at that.
And there stood that sweet, friendly girl, bent over her engine with a guy he knew as Roy standing next to her, and one of her teenybopper friends trying to crank the car over.
“Stop!” he shouted. Melissa, Roy and most of the others jumped like so many kids stealing cookies from a jar. He ran the short distance to them, his belly jouncing up and down over his belt.
“Dude, like, what’s up?” Roy challenged him.
“If you’re going to look at the engine, tie back your hair,” Bill scolded them, ignoring Roy. He came to a stop, already sweating, next to Melissa. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her from the engine compartment. “Your hair was right in that engine, Melissa.”
The girl in the car cranked again, and the engine roared into life. Melissa jumped again, but she didn’t pull herself away.
“See that?” Bill asked her, letting go of her and pointing at the fan belt. “Melissa, your hair was right there . You’d be dead now.”
Her eyes widened and she looked to her peer group for support.
“He’s right, Mel,” one of the girls said. “There’s even grease on your tips.”
Melissa grabbed the ends of her long black hair and held them in front of her eyes. Sure enough, some were sticking together, black with grease.
“Wow, Bill,” she said, looking up at him. For a second he thought she would cry. “I, you know, like, I am so sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, just tie your hair back,” he said. “My dad got pulled into the block of his Chevy that way, by his tie. It didn’t kill him but I saw the bones in his chest where—”
He looked around, and they were staring at him like he was the messiah or something.
“What?”
“Dude, that was, like, so cool of you,” Roy said.
“What?”
“Yanno,” the girl who started the car said, Spanish by the look of her. “All Sir Lancelot to save her.” She looked at Melissa, and said, “Girl, you’ve got to buy him drinks tonight.”
“Oh, yeah,” Melissa said. “We’re like, going to the Mill tonight.”
Bill took a step back. “Oh, kids, um—I don’t think we should—I mean, you don’t want an old fart like me—”
The look in Melissa’s eyes burned with excitement, and then faded as he watched them.
Bill immediately felt every second of his fifty years of age. In one sentence he had reminded them he was older than most of their parents, and he just couldn’t play with them.
His heart slowed down, and only then did he realize it had been pounding.
“Come on,” he said, “you kids don’t want some old guy slowing you down.”
“You’re not so old,” Melissa said, her eyes on the ground.
“And who cares if you are,” Roy said, and actually put his hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Dude, you know how much I’m making here, ‘cuz of you?”
“Me, too,” one of the girls that he hadn’t trained said. “Just talking to you, listening to what you tell the other people to do, I made more sales this week than I did last week, and I still have Thursday and
And there stood that sweet, friendly girl, bent over her engine with a guy he knew as Roy standing next to her, and one of her teenybopper friends trying to crank the car over.
“Stop!” he shouted. Melissa, Roy and most of the others jumped like so many kids stealing cookies from a jar. He ran the short distance to them, his belly jouncing up and down over his belt.
“Dude, like, what’s up?” Roy challenged him.
“If you’re going to look at the engine, tie back your hair,” Bill scolded them, ignoring Roy. He came to a stop, already sweating, next to Melissa. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her from the engine compartment. “Your hair was right in that engine, Melissa.”
The girl in the car cranked again, and the engine roared into life. Melissa jumped again, but she didn’t pull herself away.
“See that?” Bill asked her, letting go of her and pointing at the fan belt. “Melissa, your hair was right there . You’d be dead now.”
Her eyes widened and she looked to her peer group for support.
“He’s right, Mel,” one of the girls said. “There’s even grease on your tips.”
Melissa grabbed the ends of her long black hair and held them in front of her eyes. Sure enough, some were sticking together, black with grease.
“Wow, Bill,” she said, looking up at him. For a second he thought she would cry. “I, you know, like, I am so sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, just tie your hair back,” he said. “My dad got pulled into the block of his Chevy that way, by his tie. It didn’t kill him but I saw the bones in his chest where—”
He looked around, and they were staring at him like he was the messiah or something.
“What?”
“Dude, that was, like, so cool of you,” Roy said.
“What?”
“Yanno,” the girl who started the car said, Spanish by the look of her. “All Sir Lancelot to save her.” She looked at Melissa, and said, “Girl, you’ve got to buy him drinks tonight.”
“Oh, yeah,” Melissa said. “We’re like, going to the Mill tonight.”
Bill took a step back. “Oh, kids, um—I don’t think we should—I mean, you don’t want an old fart like me—”
The look in Melissa’s eyes burned with excitement, and then faded as he watched them.
Bill immediately felt every second of his fifty years of age. In one sentence he had reminded them he was older than most of their parents, and he just couldn’t play with them.
His heart slowed down, and only then did he realize it had been pounding.
“Come on,” he said, “you kids don’t want some old guy slowing you down.”
“You’re not so old,” Melissa said, her eyes on the ground.
“And who cares if you are,” Roy said, and actually put his hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Dude, you know how much I’m making here, ‘cuz of you?”
“Me, too,” one of the girls that he hadn’t trained said. “Just talking to you, listening to what you tell the other people to do, I made more sales this week than I did last week, and I still have Thursday and
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