a computer, and wasn’t playing video games, I could think of only one other reason a fourteen-year-old kid would be glued to a screen.
So he took me completely unaware when he whispered miserably, “Sewing. I was sewing.” He dropped his chin and hunched his shoulders, as if bracing himself for my certain ridicule.
Not twenty minutes ago, Dixie Jo had scolded me for pitying Inny, but I couldn’t look at Theo’s despairing face and not feel sorry for him. “Sewing?” I said, trying to sound casual and interested. “What’s so bad about that?”
Theo jerked his eyes around the store, but even after confirming we were alone, he motioned for me to lower my voice. “Y-y-you’re not going to make fun of me?” He blinked owlishly up at me, clearly baffled.
“What kinds of things do you sew?”
His face softened fractionally. “Well, right now I’m working on a sports coat. It’s hard to find an impeccably tailored blazer in Thunder Basin. I’m using a bright navy wool, and hope to have it ready to wear by autumn—” He stopped himself, chewed his lip, and examined my face earnestly, gauging whether to reveal more.
“I’d like to learn how to hem my clothes,” I said. In Philly, my mom routinely used a seamstress. Inga was her name, I think. But Theo was right—things were different in Thunder Basin. I didn’t know where, or even if , I could get my nicer clothes tailored. More important, would I even have an occasion to wear them here? “Maybe you could teach me sometime?” I suggested just the same.
Theo’s entire face seemed to melt with happiness. “Of course! Anytime. It’s not hard at all. And I’m a great teacher—honestly. I’m not tooting my own horn, even though it sounds like I am.”
“It’s a date.”
Bumping his glasses up his nose again, Theo beamed. And then his eyes shifted behind me. The color drained from his face and he gulped. “Oh, no,” he whispered hoarsely.
Before I could ask what was wrong, the door chimed and I turned to see Trigger swagger in, an open beer can in his hand. He saw me at the same moment, chuckled under his breath, and raised the can in a salute. Or maybe he was threatening me with a second dousing of liquid in my face. Either way, the gesture soured my mood.
“Theo.” Trigger drawled the kid’s name with enough insult to make it sound like the punch line to a crude joke. “Good to see you, my man. I was worried you weren’t working tonight. Didn’t see you when I stuck my head in earlier. You weren’t hiding from me, were you? How many times I gotta tell you: I always find my man.”
Theo’s eyes dropped to the floor. His chin was tucked against his chest, and when he spoke, it was barely audible. “You got your beer. I saw that man give it to you. Can you please just go?”
“Go? We have a deal, Theo.”
Theo blinked nervously at the side doors. “My mom will be back any minute—”
“Your mom’s an alcoholic,” Trigger cut in. “I saw the Smirnoff tucked under her arm. She’s gonna pass out by the Dumpsters and be out cold for hours. It’s just you and me. No mommy dearest to save you.” The teasing left his voice. “You owe me a case of beer. Pass it over. Quick now. I’m behind schedule ’cause of you.”
“My mom keeps meticulous inventory records. If you continue to come in every weekend, at the end of the month she’s going to notice we’re short four cases of Miller High Life.”
“You’re a smart kid,” Trigger said. “Work it out.”
“Someone has to pay for the beer,” Theo insisted. “You’re stealing from our store.”
Trigger gave a sigh of exaggerated patience and walked over to jab Theo in the chest. “It ain’t stealing if it’s a donation. Get that in your head. Now grab me a case. Or you’re not invited to the party.”
“I don’t care about the parties anymore. I made a mistake. I—d-d-don’t want to go,” Theo stammered. “You should leave. You really should go
So he took me completely unaware when he whispered miserably, “Sewing. I was sewing.” He dropped his chin and hunched his shoulders, as if bracing himself for my certain ridicule.
Not twenty minutes ago, Dixie Jo had scolded me for pitying Inny, but I couldn’t look at Theo’s despairing face and not feel sorry for him. “Sewing?” I said, trying to sound casual and interested. “What’s so bad about that?”
Theo jerked his eyes around the store, but even after confirming we were alone, he motioned for me to lower my voice. “Y-y-you’re not going to make fun of me?” He blinked owlishly up at me, clearly baffled.
“What kinds of things do you sew?”
His face softened fractionally. “Well, right now I’m working on a sports coat. It’s hard to find an impeccably tailored blazer in Thunder Basin. I’m using a bright navy wool, and hope to have it ready to wear by autumn—” He stopped himself, chewed his lip, and examined my face earnestly, gauging whether to reveal more.
“I’d like to learn how to hem my clothes,” I said. In Philly, my mom routinely used a seamstress. Inga was her name, I think. But Theo was right—things were different in Thunder Basin. I didn’t know where, or even if , I could get my nicer clothes tailored. More important, would I even have an occasion to wear them here? “Maybe you could teach me sometime?” I suggested just the same.
Theo’s entire face seemed to melt with happiness. “Of course! Anytime. It’s not hard at all. And I’m a great teacher—honestly. I’m not tooting my own horn, even though it sounds like I am.”
“It’s a date.”
Bumping his glasses up his nose again, Theo beamed. And then his eyes shifted behind me. The color drained from his face and he gulped. “Oh, no,” he whispered hoarsely.
Before I could ask what was wrong, the door chimed and I turned to see Trigger swagger in, an open beer can in his hand. He saw me at the same moment, chuckled under his breath, and raised the can in a salute. Or maybe he was threatening me with a second dousing of liquid in my face. Either way, the gesture soured my mood.
“Theo.” Trigger drawled the kid’s name with enough insult to make it sound like the punch line to a crude joke. “Good to see you, my man. I was worried you weren’t working tonight. Didn’t see you when I stuck my head in earlier. You weren’t hiding from me, were you? How many times I gotta tell you: I always find my man.”
Theo’s eyes dropped to the floor. His chin was tucked against his chest, and when he spoke, it was barely audible. “You got your beer. I saw that man give it to you. Can you please just go?”
“Go? We have a deal, Theo.”
Theo blinked nervously at the side doors. “My mom will be back any minute—”
“Your mom’s an alcoholic,” Trigger cut in. “I saw the Smirnoff tucked under her arm. She’s gonna pass out by the Dumpsters and be out cold for hours. It’s just you and me. No mommy dearest to save you.” The teasing left his voice. “You owe me a case of beer. Pass it over. Quick now. I’m behind schedule ’cause of you.”
“My mom keeps meticulous inventory records. If you continue to come in every weekend, at the end of the month she’s going to notice we’re short four cases of Miller High Life.”
“You’re a smart kid,” Trigger said. “Work it out.”
“Someone has to pay for the beer,” Theo insisted. “You’re stealing from our store.”
Trigger gave a sigh of exaggerated patience and walked over to jab Theo in the chest. “It ain’t stealing if it’s a donation. Get that in your head. Now grab me a case. Or you’re not invited to the party.”
“I don’t care about the parties anymore. I made a mistake. I—d-d-don’t want to go,” Theo stammered. “You should leave. You really should go
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