blasting from one of the upper side windows told him that Sasha, as usual, was in her room.
He’d been planning to explore the front yard and see if he could find any more snakeskins, but the whole idea of all of them sitting around, doing family things together, made him gag, and he knew that he had to get away. His dad might be trying to get into all that small-town family-values crap, but on the off chance that a potential or future friend walked past on the road and saw them acting like rejects from the 700 Club, he needed to disassociate himself. He didn’t want to be humiliated.
There was nothing more uncool than hanging with your parents.
He walked up to the porch steps, grabbed the railing and looked up at his dad. “Can I walk down to the store?” he asked.
“Which store?”
“Does it matter? They’re both practically right next to each other.”
“Why?” his mom asked.
“Jeez! Am I going to get the third degree every time I want to leave the yard? You let me and Roberto go almost everywhere. And that was in California. Now I can’t even walk a couple of blocks in this crummy little town?”
His dad smiled. “Go ahead.” He looked at his mother. “What’s he going to do?”
“Be back in forty-five minutes,” she said.
He nodded and took off running before Teo could say that she wanted to go too.
At the store he made a friend.
It was purely by accident. He was standing by himself, next to the comic books rack, glancing through the new Spiderman, when a kid about his own age came into the small market, causing the bell over the door to jingle. Adam looked up, saw a boy with longish hair, wearing torn jeans and a Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt, and then went back to his comic book without giving the kid a second thought.
The boy said something to the clerk, then walked over to where Adam was standing. Adam stepped back a pace, and the boy twirled the rack. “Where’s Superman ?” he said, turning back toward the front of the store. “I’m here to pick up the September Superman. ”
“Sorry,” the clerk said, “we’re all out.”
“You said you’d tell me when they came in.”
“Sorry. We’ve been busy.”
“Shit.”
“I have that one,” Adam offered.
The boy looked at him for the first time. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Who are you?”
“I just moved here,” he said. “My name’s Adam.”
The boy thought for a moment. “You like comics?”
“No. I’m just looking at these for my health.”
The kid smiled. “Superman fan?”
“Spiderman mostly. But I like ’em both.”
“Me too.” The kid nodded in greeting. “I’m Scott.”
They were shy with each other at first. It was no longer as easy for Adam to make friends as it had been when he was younger, when every time he’d go to the park or go to the beach he’d make a new friend for the day, someone he’d never see again but who, for those few hours at least, was his best buddy in the world. Scott, too, seemed to be hesitant, unsure of how to proceed, how to tentatively approach the boundary of friendship without coming off like an asshole.
That was another thing they had in common.
But by the time they made their way around to the shelf of trading cards next to the candy, they were talking: Adam describing life in the big city, Scott explaining what a hellhole McGuane was for anyone who wasn’t what he termed a “goat roper.”
Like himself, Scott was going to be in seventh grade, and after they left the store, Scott took him by the school to check the place out. It was bigger than he’d expected and more modern than most of the other buildings in town. The two of them walked up to a drinking fountain on a wall adjoining the tennis court, and Adam got a drink while Scott took out a pen and began writing on the brown stucco above the fountain. He looked up as he wiped off his mouth and saw the word “Pussy” written on the wall—with an arrow pointing down to where he’d been drinking.
Scott
He’d been planning to explore the front yard and see if he could find any more snakeskins, but the whole idea of all of them sitting around, doing family things together, made him gag, and he knew that he had to get away. His dad might be trying to get into all that small-town family-values crap, but on the off chance that a potential or future friend walked past on the road and saw them acting like rejects from the 700 Club, he needed to disassociate himself. He didn’t want to be humiliated.
There was nothing more uncool than hanging with your parents.
He walked up to the porch steps, grabbed the railing and looked up at his dad. “Can I walk down to the store?” he asked.
“Which store?”
“Does it matter? They’re both practically right next to each other.”
“Why?” his mom asked.
“Jeez! Am I going to get the third degree every time I want to leave the yard? You let me and Roberto go almost everywhere. And that was in California. Now I can’t even walk a couple of blocks in this crummy little town?”
His dad smiled. “Go ahead.” He looked at his mother. “What’s he going to do?”
“Be back in forty-five minutes,” she said.
He nodded and took off running before Teo could say that she wanted to go too.
At the store he made a friend.
It was purely by accident. He was standing by himself, next to the comic books rack, glancing through the new Spiderman, when a kid about his own age came into the small market, causing the bell over the door to jingle. Adam looked up, saw a boy with longish hair, wearing torn jeans and a Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt, and then went back to his comic book without giving the kid a second thought.
The boy said something to the clerk, then walked over to where Adam was standing. Adam stepped back a pace, and the boy twirled the rack. “Where’s Superman ?” he said, turning back toward the front of the store. “I’m here to pick up the September Superman. ”
“Sorry,” the clerk said, “we’re all out.”
“You said you’d tell me when they came in.”
“Sorry. We’ve been busy.”
“Shit.”
“I have that one,” Adam offered.
The boy looked at him for the first time. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Who are you?”
“I just moved here,” he said. “My name’s Adam.”
The boy thought for a moment. “You like comics?”
“No. I’m just looking at these for my health.”
The kid smiled. “Superman fan?”
“Spiderman mostly. But I like ’em both.”
“Me too.” The kid nodded in greeting. “I’m Scott.”
They were shy with each other at first. It was no longer as easy for Adam to make friends as it had been when he was younger, when every time he’d go to the park or go to the beach he’d make a new friend for the day, someone he’d never see again but who, for those few hours at least, was his best buddy in the world. Scott, too, seemed to be hesitant, unsure of how to proceed, how to tentatively approach the boundary of friendship without coming off like an asshole.
That was another thing they had in common.
But by the time they made their way around to the shelf of trading cards next to the candy, they were talking: Adam describing life in the big city, Scott explaining what a hellhole McGuane was for anyone who wasn’t what he termed a “goat roper.”
Like himself, Scott was going to be in seventh grade, and after they left the store, Scott took him by the school to check the place out. It was bigger than he’d expected and more modern than most of the other buildings in town. The two of them walked up to a drinking fountain on a wall adjoining the tennis court, and Adam got a drink while Scott took out a pen and began writing on the brown stucco above the fountain. He looked up as he wiped off his mouth and saw the word “Pussy” written on the wall—with an arrow pointing down to where he’d been drinking.
Scott
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