He did a supermodel walk over to me. “What? It’s not my style?” he asked, showing me his profile.
“Fake it till you make it, I guess.” I was still laughing.
“Do you wanna get some lunch?” As soon as he said it, my stomach started to growl.
“Sure,” I said.
He repositioned the hat so it covered one of his eyes. “Okay, why don’t you go grab us a place to eat outside, and I’ll return this hat.”
I had a mad urge to hug him, but I didn’t. “Okay, I’ll save you a seat.” Oh man, I was flirting.
****
Brandon walked over to me with his long stride and placed the tray on our high top table. He placed my plate of pepperoni and pineapple pizza in front of me, along with a diet soda. The large umbrella was shielding us from the hot afternoon sun. I was grateful to that umbrella, as the last thing I needed was to sit here sweating like a pig. I was already eating like one.
“So, any idea what you want to do after high school?” he asked.
I detached the long string of mozzarella cheese that had stretched from my slice to my mouth. “The normal plan. Try to find a good college. Any school that’s far away from here will do.” I felt his eyes staring at my collarbone, and it made me warm inside.
“Far away, huh? I bet your parents will freak out.”
I choked a little.
“Oh sorry,” he said as he gave my back a little pat. “I’m looking to stay local. I want to make sure I’m close by in case my mom needs help. Like with Nicholas or anything. I’d like to move out to have some independence, but if she wants me to stay with her, I’ll probably just do that.” He gave me a sheepish smile.
He was so sweet. His family obviously meant the world to him. I bet his mother leaned on him a lot right after Bobby died. I imagined him making dinner for himself and Nicholas and bringing his mother some tea and toast, trying to make sure she ate a little something. I did that for my mom too. For days after her chemo treatments, she’d be so wiped out she’d have to spend the whole day in bed. I’d bring her food. Sometimes I tried to help wash her hair. She said she hated feeling it so greasy. So I came up with this weird sponge bath method of washing her hair. It always seemed to make her feel better. Once her hair fell out completely, I made sure her wig, the one and only wig she could afford, always looked styled and clean. She always wanted to still feel like a woman, instead of a cancer patient. But, she was both.
A strong breeze blew through the air, and a strand of my hair escaped my loose braid and blew into my face. Brandon noticed and reached his hand toward me then quickly withdrew it. He looked down at his pizza and laughed.
“What?” I tucked the strand back into the braid.
He chuckled, this time more to himself. “It’s nothing I was just… I was going to move your hair to behind your ear, and then I thought I shouldn’t.”
“Oh.” Goose bumps ran up and down my arms, and it wasn’t from the breeze. I nervously nibbled at my pizza and sipped my drink. Silence fell around us. But it’s kind of like when you’re microwaving a piece of apple pie. It might only take forty seconds, but somehow those forty seconds seems like forever.
“All right, that’s it!” Brandon tossed his napkin down on his plate and peered at me.
“What?” I was afraid to ask but did.
“It’s time for me to see what you’re made of.” He leaned into me. “Pinball.” His eyes were locked on mine.
“Oh, you’re asking for it.” I got up from my seat and started walking down the boardwalk to the arcade.
“Don’t think I’m going to let you score higher than me.” He walked faster than I did, and I had to double my pace to keep up. I then realized he was doing it on purpose, so I sprinted the last few yards to the arcade.
An hour later, I had accumulated one hundred tickets to his mere eighty-seven when all was said and done. I crushed his pinball score. We played air hockey; he won two rounds and I, one, but I think that one was a pity win. We gathered more tickets from the target shooting game and various other games. At the ticket redemption counter, I wanted the pink stuffed leopard but was fifty tickets short. Brandon graciously gave me the extra fifty tickets, and with his remaining winnings, he walked out with a key chain in the shape of a shark.
It was time to head back, and the ride home was filled with continuous conversation. We talked about our favorite music groups and favorite movies. The only lull was when we went through the tollbooth and the toll taker said we’d better get home before our parents found out we ditched school. Since when were toll takers truant officers?
“Do you think your parents will be mad if they
