was talking to the older boys about careers in the military.”
“Mack, I swear, you will break my heart if you ever sign up.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
“That’s what all you boys say, and then you go off and enlist on impulse.”
“No, I mean I don’t think they’d have me, the army. I think once you do a bid, they unqualify you from military service.”
“A bid?”
“Jail time.”
“Oh.” She looks at me different for a second, and it all comes back to me, that doubt I can’t shake: This won’t last. She deserves better than me. Why is she with me?
And then whatever she was thinking leaves her. She checks to be sure Marcy isn’t snooping. She takes my hand and pulls me to the shade side of the Dumpster and kisses my eyes. “You ask your father if you can sleep over tomorrow night?”
“Not yet.”
“My mother said that if you don’t get permission—”
“I know. I’ll ask him.”
“You look like you think he’ll say no.”
“He won’t give a damn about any of it.”
“Then what’s wrong?” she says.
I don’t really know. I shrug off the feeling that something bad is going to come of this sleepover. I kiss her neck. I love her neck. If I rest my lips on her just right, to the side of her windpipe, I can feel her pulse in my mouth. Each time her heart beats through me, I love her more terrible. I don’t know what I would ever do without this girl. I can’t believe she’s letting me hang with her. Over Céce’s shoulder, I see Marcy in the window. She’s got her phone up, waving to us.
“A picture’s not enough?” Céce says. “You need video?”
“I need video.”
Céce marches in to bawl out Marcy.
I turn over the trash barrel. It’s hot out and Tony’s peace medal sticks to my chest. I’m never taking it off, because as long as I’m wearing it, everything will be right.
(Monday, July 20, afternoon)
CÉCE:
We’re just about done with cleaning day. I’m vacuuming a year’s worth of stale crumbs from the bread warmer when Ma comes in with burritos for everybody. “Vic,” she says. “All the years we’ve known each other, have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Many times.”
“Besides those times?”
“Never,” he says.
“I have this fantastically awesome moneymaker idea for you.”
Vic looks up from his laptop, squints through his old-man glasses at Ma. “Lay it on me, sweetheart.”
“What would you think about adding home-baked cornbread to the menu?”
“You mean like in a Mexican restaurant?” Vic says.
“Except it’s Italian,” Ma says. “Now how hot is that?”
Vic shrugs. “Let’s give it a shot.” He nods to his laptop, the news. “This guy got smashed in a rooftop bar, fell forty feet and lived. How’s it go, God takes care of kids and drunks?”
“That’s why I drink,” Ma says.
And act childish, I almost say. Her hair is double bunned on top of her head. Pink cat’s ears.
“Help me with the puzzle,” Vic says. “Twelve letters, second’s an n . Antiquated.”
“Anachronistic?” I say.
“That’s thirteen letters.”
“Antediluvian?”
“Loser?” Marcy says. She pulls me into the bathroom.
“Come to Cindi Nappi’s party with me.” She has about ten pounds of bronzer on, topped off with a pound of eye glitter, which only accentuates the fact that her poor eyes are a little too close together.
“Cindi Nappi? No thanks.”
“Because she’s like totally skinny, right?”
“All she does is brag about her new clothes and complain about boys.”
“And? I swear, Céce Vaccuccia, you’re like a six-hundredyear-old lady in a cutie-pie suit. There’s this really hot guy who’s gonna be there.”
“I already have a really hot guy, thank you.”
“A hot guy for me . It isn’t always about you, okay? That dude Brendan from the east side. You know the one I’m talking about? His brother’s in the Abercrombie catalog? I heard he might like me.” She grabs my
“Mack, I swear, you will break my heart if you ever sign up.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
“That’s what all you boys say, and then you go off and enlist on impulse.”
“No, I mean I don’t think they’d have me, the army. I think once you do a bid, they unqualify you from military service.”
“A bid?”
“Jail time.”
“Oh.” She looks at me different for a second, and it all comes back to me, that doubt I can’t shake: This won’t last. She deserves better than me. Why is she with me?
And then whatever she was thinking leaves her. She checks to be sure Marcy isn’t snooping. She takes my hand and pulls me to the shade side of the Dumpster and kisses my eyes. “You ask your father if you can sleep over tomorrow night?”
“Not yet.”
“My mother said that if you don’t get permission—”
“I know. I’ll ask him.”
“You look like you think he’ll say no.”
“He won’t give a damn about any of it.”
“Then what’s wrong?” she says.
I don’t really know. I shrug off the feeling that something bad is going to come of this sleepover. I kiss her neck. I love her neck. If I rest my lips on her just right, to the side of her windpipe, I can feel her pulse in my mouth. Each time her heart beats through me, I love her more terrible. I don’t know what I would ever do without this girl. I can’t believe she’s letting me hang with her. Over Céce’s shoulder, I see Marcy in the window. She’s got her phone up, waving to us.
“A picture’s not enough?” Céce says. “You need video?”
“I need video.”
Céce marches in to bawl out Marcy.
I turn over the trash barrel. It’s hot out and Tony’s peace medal sticks to my chest. I’m never taking it off, because as long as I’m wearing it, everything will be right.
(Monday, July 20, afternoon)
CÉCE:
We’re just about done with cleaning day. I’m vacuuming a year’s worth of stale crumbs from the bread warmer when Ma comes in with burritos for everybody. “Vic,” she says. “All the years we’ve known each other, have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Many times.”
“Besides those times?”
“Never,” he says.
“I have this fantastically awesome moneymaker idea for you.”
Vic looks up from his laptop, squints through his old-man glasses at Ma. “Lay it on me, sweetheart.”
“What would you think about adding home-baked cornbread to the menu?”
“You mean like in a Mexican restaurant?” Vic says.
“Except it’s Italian,” Ma says. “Now how hot is that?”
Vic shrugs. “Let’s give it a shot.” He nods to his laptop, the news. “This guy got smashed in a rooftop bar, fell forty feet and lived. How’s it go, God takes care of kids and drunks?”
“That’s why I drink,” Ma says.
And act childish, I almost say. Her hair is double bunned on top of her head. Pink cat’s ears.
“Help me with the puzzle,” Vic says. “Twelve letters, second’s an n . Antiquated.”
“Anachronistic?” I say.
“That’s thirteen letters.”
“Antediluvian?”
“Loser?” Marcy says. She pulls me into the bathroom.
“Come to Cindi Nappi’s party with me.” She has about ten pounds of bronzer on, topped off with a pound of eye glitter, which only accentuates the fact that her poor eyes are a little too close together.
“Cindi Nappi? No thanks.”
“Because she’s like totally skinny, right?”
“All she does is brag about her new clothes and complain about boys.”
“And? I swear, Céce Vaccuccia, you’re like a six-hundredyear-old lady in a cutie-pie suit. There’s this really hot guy who’s gonna be there.”
“I already have a really hot guy, thank you.”
“A hot guy for me . It isn’t always about you, okay? That dude Brendan from the east side. You know the one I’m talking about? His brother’s in the Abercrombie catalog? I heard he might like me.” She grabs my
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