faculty brat.
“You want me to keep going?” he said. “You know what managers do, right? I’m the guy they call when there’s a problem. ‘Karl, Karl to register three, please.’ That’s me.”
“Do you wear a red vest?”
“White shirt and tie,” he said with a smile. “My red vest days are behind me.”
Right after my mother left, my father thought we should stock up on household stuff, and we went to the PayLess in Menlo Park and filled two shopping carts with toilet paper and Ajax and family-size boxes of breakfast cereal. Since then we hadn’t ventured farther than JJ&F.
His eyes were still on me, and I looked away. I imagined him as a teenager—a tall, skinny high school kid in a red vest. I wondered if he’d even gone to college.
There was a stack of photos on the table. The top one was a green blur, with some dark spots on one edge. Karl saw me looking and slid the photos to the middle of the table. He held up the top one so I could see it. “Guess what this is.”
I shrugged. “Something green.”
“Yeah, but what? Guess.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re no fun. It’s a frog. Part of a frog. Didn’t come out too good, did it?” He tossed the picture aside and swiveled the stack so I could see the next one right side up. It was the same idea—blurry green—but I got it this time: the dark spots were bumps on the frog’s skin, and there was a grayish white thing that might’ve been part of its eye.
He tossed that one aside, too. “Here we go,” he said, and he held up a picture of the frog as a small green blob on the muddy edge of some water. “He wasn’t a close-up kind of frog,” he said. He turned the photos around again and slid one after another from the top of the pile. “Now we’re talking,” he said and tossed a photo at me.
It was a picture of snow-capped mountains, like something you’d see on a postcard. He tossed another, and a third, and they were all like that—mountains with forest, mountains with the sky pink behind them.
“Here’s us,” he said.
He and Mary Ann were standing together on a narrow trail, each wearing hiking boots and a huge backpack. She had on sunglasses, so her eyes didn’t have that naked look, and I had to admit she had pretty good legs. They were both smiling like crazy.
“And here’s me,” Karl said, and he passed me a picture of him sitting against a boulder, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes.
“Where is this?” I said.
“Cascades. It takes forever to get there, but it’s worth it, it’s beautiful. Does your family backpack?”
I shook my head.
“Well, maybe when you’re grown then. We spent ten days—it was pretty great.”
I put the picture down and slid the whole mess back to him. Like I was going to start backpacking when I was grown. I was pretty sure that when I was grown I’d be like my father, doing something that involved desks and table lamps. I hadn’t even gone to Muir Woods when I had the chance.
“So what’s going on, Richard?” Karl said.
“You mean with Sasha?”
“I mean with you. Is something going on with Sasha?”
I thought of how he was with her, the day of the Walk. Kind of mean. “She’s my best friend,” I said.
“But something happened. She’s in trouble. Or she got you in trouble?”
Suddenly I was furious at him. He’d taken one look at her and decided she was—what? A scammer. Just because she wanted to make a phone call. “No!” I said. “You’re wrong about her,” and I pushed away from the table and ran for the front door.
“Richard!”
I bolted out of the house, brushed past Mary Ann, hopped on my bike, and took off. I pedaled as hard as I could, my legs pumping, my breath coming so fast that soon I’d convinced myself it wasn’t misery making my eyes so wet but just the hot, dry air. Why hadn’t I seen her since the Fourth of July? I didn’t know anymore if I was avoiding her or she was avoiding me. What was I supposed to do? When
“You want me to keep going?” he said. “You know what managers do, right? I’m the guy they call when there’s a problem. ‘Karl, Karl to register three, please.’ That’s me.”
“Do you wear a red vest?”
“White shirt and tie,” he said with a smile. “My red vest days are behind me.”
Right after my mother left, my father thought we should stock up on household stuff, and we went to the PayLess in Menlo Park and filled two shopping carts with toilet paper and Ajax and family-size boxes of breakfast cereal. Since then we hadn’t ventured farther than JJ&F.
His eyes were still on me, and I looked away. I imagined him as a teenager—a tall, skinny high school kid in a red vest. I wondered if he’d even gone to college.
There was a stack of photos on the table. The top one was a green blur, with some dark spots on one edge. Karl saw me looking and slid the photos to the middle of the table. He held up the top one so I could see it. “Guess what this is.”
I shrugged. “Something green.”
“Yeah, but what? Guess.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re no fun. It’s a frog. Part of a frog. Didn’t come out too good, did it?” He tossed the picture aside and swiveled the stack so I could see the next one right side up. It was the same idea—blurry green—but I got it this time: the dark spots were bumps on the frog’s skin, and there was a grayish white thing that might’ve been part of its eye.
He tossed that one aside, too. “Here we go,” he said, and he held up a picture of the frog as a small green blob on the muddy edge of some water. “He wasn’t a close-up kind of frog,” he said. He turned the photos around again and slid one after another from the top of the pile. “Now we’re talking,” he said and tossed a photo at me.
It was a picture of snow-capped mountains, like something you’d see on a postcard. He tossed another, and a third, and they were all like that—mountains with forest, mountains with the sky pink behind them.
“Here’s us,” he said.
He and Mary Ann were standing together on a narrow trail, each wearing hiking boots and a huge backpack. She had on sunglasses, so her eyes didn’t have that naked look, and I had to admit she had pretty good legs. They were both smiling like crazy.
“And here’s me,” Karl said, and he passed me a picture of him sitting against a boulder, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes.
“Where is this?” I said.
“Cascades. It takes forever to get there, but it’s worth it, it’s beautiful. Does your family backpack?”
I shook my head.
“Well, maybe when you’re grown then. We spent ten days—it was pretty great.”
I put the picture down and slid the whole mess back to him. Like I was going to start backpacking when I was grown. I was pretty sure that when I was grown I’d be like my father, doing something that involved desks and table lamps. I hadn’t even gone to Muir Woods when I had the chance.
“So what’s going on, Richard?” Karl said.
“You mean with Sasha?”
“I mean with you. Is something going on with Sasha?”
I thought of how he was with her, the day of the Walk. Kind of mean. “She’s my best friend,” I said.
“But something happened. She’s in trouble. Or she got you in trouble?”
Suddenly I was furious at him. He’d taken one look at her and decided she was—what? A scammer. Just because she wanted to make a phone call. “No!” I said. “You’re wrong about her,” and I pushed away from the table and ran for the front door.
“Richard!”
I bolted out of the house, brushed past Mary Ann, hopped on my bike, and took off. I pedaled as hard as I could, my legs pumping, my breath coming so fast that soon I’d convinced myself it wasn’t misery making my eyes so wet but just the hot, dry air. Why hadn’t I seen her since the Fourth of July? I didn’t know anymore if I was avoiding her or she was avoiding me. What was I supposed to do? When
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