The Kingdom of Childhood

“Yeah, bullshit. Hands off the merchandise, that’s what that was about.”

“Don’t be silly.” She accepted a dollar bill for a brownie.

“The house will be empty between seven and nine, if you want to take a break from your project.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

She cut a sidelong glance at him, her mouth set in a lighthearted mom-is-warning-you way. “Don’t you sound indifferent,” she said. “Better watch out. You’re going to need a college recommendation one of these days.”

“That’s not funny,” he said. He glowered at her.

“It’s a joke, Zach.”

“It’s not funny. Don’t you pull rank on me like that.”

“I’m not pulling rank.”

“You just did. That’s real shitty of you.”

“Zach.” She put her palm out to accept a handful of change, but looked at him urgently. “I’m sorry. Don’t get into it with me right now. There’s too many people around. If you’re mad, we can talk about it later.”

“I’m going to be busy later. Why do you do this shit to me? Talking to me like you’re my goddamn guidance counselor. I was gonna say, ‘where do you get off?’ But oh, wait. I know the answer to that question.”

She turned to him with an icy glare. “Knock it off.”

“Can I go now, then? Mrs. McFarland?”

She turned her back to him to pass a child a cookie, and he wandered off toward the exit doors, passing Scott and Fairen with their trays of cookies along the way. He burned with indignation at her guile. He ought to be the last person on Earth she wanted to piss off, especially after the things he’d let her get away with in the recent past. The slapping incident still loomed large in his mind; he had dropped it with her only because he understood he had hit a nerve with his crack about the German guy. If she couldn’t take a joke about some guy she knew thirty years ago, she ought to be more cautious about the impulses she could control.

He headed back out the door and sat on the asphalt, leaning his back against the brick. He watched his chemistry teacher lead a group of children in a cooperative ball game, and tried not to think about Judy.

“Zach. Hey.”

He turned his head at the sound of his name and saw Scott, standing with one hand on the doorjamb. Behind him stood a tall, middle-aged guy with glasses. Zach knew instinctively who the man was. His stomach seemed to twist inside him.

Scott gestured with his thumb to the older man. “Have you met my dad?”

Zach nodded a greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

“He’s going to be helping out with the ring toss.”

Here of all places, thought Zach. The man had never shown his face at a Madrigals concert, turned up at a school function, or given Zach a ride home. The way Judy described it, he only climbed out of his laptop long enough to eat, take a piss, and yell at her before vanishing back into the ether. Since when did the guy volunteer at school fundraisers? How did that figure into his life-or-death reasons for parting from his dissertation?

Scott was shooting him a strange look. Zach understood that Scott expected him to shake his father’s hand. There was no way around it without being obviously rude. Zach got to his feet and extended his hand.

“So you’re in the chorus with Scott,” said Russ.

“Yeah.”

“It’s very selective. You must have a lot of talent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“What do you sing? Tenor?”

“Yeah.” The man seemed perfectly friendly. He didn’t come off like a fire-breathing demon the way Judy had characterized him. Zach was becoming familiar with the differences between an adult’s public face and their private one; doing puppet shows among the five-year-olds, Judy didn’t seem like a nymphomaniac, either. But even so, holding the eye contact unnerved him deeply. He shook his bangs into his eyes and stuffed his hands down into his pockets.

Russ smiled broadly. “That’s great,” he said. “Wish I could hear you boys sing more often. Music’s gotten away from me over the years. My wife and I used to go to rock concerts all the time when we were younger. Of course, that was back in the ’70s. Nothing that would be your speed.”

Zach shook his head. “Not really.”

Russ nodded and grinned again. “Good to meet you, Zach. Hope I’ll be seeing more of you once I get work under control.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Scott and his father walked off toward the outdoor games area, and Zach took off in the opposite direction. He made it as far as the trash Dumpster, then ducked behind the tattered enclosure and wrapped both arms around his stomach. It didn’t help. He leaned over into the corner, braced his hand against the wall, and puked up the contents of his stomach. One Dr Pepper and Judy’s chocolate chip cookie.

He spat onto the concrete. The saliva dangled from his lip and refused to completely fall. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and steeled himself for another round of cramps. At the same moment he heard a quiet voice call, “Zach?”