Mr. Was by Pete Hautman Page A

money from old man Murphy, since he owed me for the time I’dworked, but the idea of being a third wheel on Scud and Andie’s date didn’t appeal to me. I was about to tell him no thanks when I all of a sudden had this image of the two of them sitting in the back row of the theater, making out like crazy. If I was there, they’d have to behave themselves.
    â€œSure,” I said. “That sounds okay.”
    â€œShow’s at seven. I’ll pick you up around six.” He gave my grimy overalls a critical look. “You got something besides that you can wear?”
    â€œDon’t worry about it,” I said. “I’ll get out my tuxedo.”
    Later I found out the only reason he’d invited me was that the old man wouldn’t let Andie go to the movies with just Scud. I was supposed to be their chaperone. I think if her father had thought he could get away with it, he’d have forbidden Andie to see Scud at all. But the old man was smart enough to know that if he did that, Andie would be sneaking out every chance she got.
    Scud showed up a few minutes after six. Andie and I were all ready to go, but Mr. Murphy was still finishing his dessert. Scud pulled his Ford right up to the front porch and leaned on his horn. Andie got up and started for the door.
    Mr. Murphy looked up from his pie and said, “Hold it right there, girl. You wait for him to come knocking, as is proper.”
    Andie rolled her eyes at me, but came back and sat at the table.
    It took Scud a good two minutes to figure it out, but finally we heard his footsteps on the porch and his knock on the door.
    Mr. Murphy pointed his fork at me, then at the door. I went to answer it.
    Scud was decked out in his new coat, a bright red scarf, and his felt hat. He looked like the Shadow, only with blue eyes and that pimple on his chin.
    Andie wore a plain green dress. An ugly dress, I thought, but somehow it made her more beautiful than ever, her red hair shiny and full, her green eyes dancing with energy.
    I had on a clean pair of overalls, my Nikes, and my nylon parka. Scud gave me a critical once-over. “Where’d you get those shoes?”
    â€œChicago,” I said. It had been enough of an explanation for old man Murphy.
    â€œThey look like clown shoes,” he said.
    â€œThey walk just fine.”
    â€œLet’s go!” Andie said. “We don’t want to be late.”
    â€œMovie don’t start till seven,” said Mr. Murphy.
    â€œWe want to get the good seats,” Scud said. He picked Andie’s often-mended coat from the hanger behind the door and held it open for her.
    Mr. Murphy glared at him, then said to Andie, “You be home by eleven, girl.” He turned to me. “You make sure,” he said.
    We all promised to be good, then it was out the door and into Scud’s Ford, the three of us crowded into the front seat with Andie in the middle. I likedthe feel of that, Andie’s hip pressed against mine. But she was leaning more toward Scud. I just set my jaw and tried not to think about it.
    On the way to Red Wing we stopped at a roadhouse where Scud tried to buy some beer. While Scud was in the roadhouse making a fool of himself, Andie and I got a chance to talk.
    â€œI thought we were just going to a movie,” I said.
    Andie grinned at me. Her coat was old and worn, but the way that collar framed her face, especially sitting outside the beer joint with the red and white lights from the entryway lighting up her features, it was a beautiful thing to see. Her eyes, green by daylight, now looked as dark and deep and thick as pools of molasses.
    â€œHe’s just showin’ off,” she said. “Trying to impress you.”
    â€œHow do you know he’s not trying to impress
your?
”
    â€œScud knows he’s not gonna impress me. Anyways, he doesn’t have to. We known each other a long time.” I thought I detected a touch of regret