seem to want to leave either. They hung around, sitting on the steps or leaning against car fenders.
Bert was looking over at Jim, wondering what had happened to all his nastiness. Jim was sitting in his chair at the rear of Camilleâs 1949 Chevy station wagon talking with Scotty and Rita. Thinking of Zimster made Bert think about grade school, and thinking about his grade school years could bring Bert down real fast.
Mike Jackson hustled out the locker room door in his shirtsleeves and said something to Scotty. All Bert heard was the word âCamille.â They both hustled back, and Bert followed.
Scotty stood at the little tiled curb that keeps the water from running out of the shower entrance onto the concrete floor. All the showers were going full blast. Bert was standing on his tiptoes beside Jackson looking into the shower area over the tiled wall. Camille sat on the floor in the blast from one of the showers, his chin on his chest.
Bert saw Scotty say something to Camille, but he was too far away to hear through all the shower noise. Scotty picked up two towels from the pile on the table by the entrance and stepped in. He turned off the shower in his path and the one spraying down on Camille. Scotty wiped his face with one of the towels and said something else,but Bert still couldnât hear. Camille said something. Scotty tossed the towel down onto Camilleâs shoulder. Camille looked up and said something, then he started crying again.
Bertâs calves were hurting and he settled back down off his toes.
Scotty leaned forward and extended his arm. Bert didnât have to strain to see because Scotty was so tall. In a second Camille appeared. He put his arms around his fatherâs neck and cried hard. Loud enough for anyone in the locker room to hear.
*Â Â *Â Â *
Bert sat on the north end of the 7-Eleven sidewalk eating slowly the first of what would be a number of hot dogs. The Sportster sat a few feet farther north in the big dirt lot between the 7-Eleven and the yogurt store. The 7-Eleven hadnât become a Thompson hangout at this point. Tonight would be the night that made it one.
Bert was savoring his dog, capturing with his tongue each errant slice of jalapeño pepper and onion chunk that clung to the napkin. Bert was surprised to see Camilleâs station wagon roll past the gas pumps and into the dirt lot. Public Enemy continued pounding out of the stereo after Shepard shut down. Bert could see the sides and top of the old rig vibrating. Zimster could add hearing loss to his list of handicaps. Shepard and Jackson climbed out slowly. They walked as though various parts of their bodies would have preferred to be home in bed. Bert had assumed Camille wouldnât feel like going out on the town after the incidentin the shower. But then Bert didnât really know Camille.
Both boys crawled into the back of the Chevy. They emerged hoisting an old easy chair to which Jim Zimster was secured by a series of bungee cords. They placed the chair on the blacktop a few inches from Bertâs Big Gulp cup. Zimster unhooked the cords and took a breath. Everybody spoke a greeting, including Jackson, with whom Bert had never spoken. Shepard adjusted the watch cap he was wearing over his wet head. âWe mean to rid this place of some hot dogs,â he said.
It made Bert smile. Shepard sounded like his dad. There was just that little accent.
More Thompson kids began pulling in. Lauren Haskell parked her Karmann-Ghia beside Camilleâs Chevy. Then a bunch of sophomore boys showed up, then Clara Davis and Sharon Jackson, Mikeâs sister, then Darby and Sean Christman in Darbyâs Tracker with the top down. All the stereos gave way to Public Enemy.
People gravitated around Zimsterâs chair. Bert sort of knew these people, but he didnât feel particularly comfortable around any of them, and that included Darby and Camille. He wasnât sure about Zimster. Bert was
Bert was looking over at Jim, wondering what had happened to all his nastiness. Jim was sitting in his chair at the rear of Camilleâs 1949 Chevy station wagon talking with Scotty and Rita. Thinking of Zimster made Bert think about grade school, and thinking about his grade school years could bring Bert down real fast.
Mike Jackson hustled out the locker room door in his shirtsleeves and said something to Scotty. All Bert heard was the word âCamille.â They both hustled back, and Bert followed.
Scotty stood at the little tiled curb that keeps the water from running out of the shower entrance onto the concrete floor. All the showers were going full blast. Bert was standing on his tiptoes beside Jackson looking into the shower area over the tiled wall. Camille sat on the floor in the blast from one of the showers, his chin on his chest.
Bert saw Scotty say something to Camille, but he was too far away to hear through all the shower noise. Scotty picked up two towels from the pile on the table by the entrance and stepped in. He turned off the shower in his path and the one spraying down on Camille. Scotty wiped his face with one of the towels and said something else,but Bert still couldnât hear. Camille said something. Scotty tossed the towel down onto Camilleâs shoulder. Camille looked up and said something, then he started crying again.
Bertâs calves were hurting and he settled back down off his toes.
Scotty leaned forward and extended his arm. Bert didnât have to strain to see because Scotty was so tall. In a second Camille appeared. He put his arms around his fatherâs neck and cried hard. Loud enough for anyone in the locker room to hear.
*Â Â *Â Â *
Bert sat on the north end of the 7-Eleven sidewalk eating slowly the first of what would be a number of hot dogs. The Sportster sat a few feet farther north in the big dirt lot between the 7-Eleven and the yogurt store. The 7-Eleven hadnât become a Thompson hangout at this point. Tonight would be the night that made it one.
Bert was savoring his dog, capturing with his tongue each errant slice of jalapeño pepper and onion chunk that clung to the napkin. Bert was surprised to see Camilleâs station wagon roll past the gas pumps and into the dirt lot. Public Enemy continued pounding out of the stereo after Shepard shut down. Bert could see the sides and top of the old rig vibrating. Zimster could add hearing loss to his list of handicaps. Shepard and Jackson climbed out slowly. They walked as though various parts of their bodies would have preferred to be home in bed. Bert had assumed Camille wouldnât feel like going out on the town after the incidentin the shower. But then Bert didnât really know Camille.
Both boys crawled into the back of the Chevy. They emerged hoisting an old easy chair to which Jim Zimster was secured by a series of bungee cords. They placed the chair on the blacktop a few inches from Bertâs Big Gulp cup. Zimster unhooked the cords and took a breath. Everybody spoke a greeting, including Jackson, with whom Bert had never spoken. Shepard adjusted the watch cap he was wearing over his wet head. âWe mean to rid this place of some hot dogs,â he said.
It made Bert smile. Shepard sounded like his dad. There was just that little accent.
More Thompson kids began pulling in. Lauren Haskell parked her Karmann-Ghia beside Camilleâs Chevy. Then a bunch of sophomore boys showed up, then Clara Davis and Sharon Jackson, Mikeâs sister, then Darby and Sean Christman in Darbyâs Tracker with the top down. All the stereos gave way to Public Enemy.
People gravitated around Zimsterâs chair. Bert sort of knew these people, but he didnât feel particularly comfortable around any of them, and that included Darby and Camille. He wasnât sure about Zimster. Bert was
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