politely said there was “something wrong with him.” Kids called him The Creep and fashioned stories about him roasting infants in the french fryer and cleaning his fingernails with a Bowie knife. On the afternoon that Chris and Emily were eating lunch there, The Creep was on clean-up duty in the dining room.
Chris's parents had come over at lunchtime, his mother swooping down like a hawk to kiss his forehead. After gossiping with Emily's mom about who was wearing what to the party the night before, Gus offered to take Emily out to McDonald's with them for lunch-a thank-you for babysitting overnight. They had carried their trays to the dining area, but every time Emily turned around, The Creep was at the table beside her or behind her or just in front, rubbing down the slick Formica surface and staring at her with his one straight eye.
Chris sat beside her on the banquette. “I think,” he whispered, “he's your secret admirer.”
“Stop it,” Em shuddered. “You're freaking me out.”
“Maybe he'll ask for your phone number,” Chris continued. “Maybe he'll-”
“Chris,” Emily warned, punching him on the arm.
“What's going on?” Gus asked.
“Nothing,” they answered in unison.
Emily watched The Creep make his rounds, picking up ketchup packets people had dropped on the floor and mopping up a spilled Coke. He looked up at her, as if he could feel her eyes on him, and she immediately stared down at the seeded bun of her hamburger.
Suddenly Chris leaned over to whisper again. His breath was hot in the shell of her ear. “Ultimate dare,” he said.
An ultimate dare was one that raised you in the other person's estimation by leaps and bounds, if completed. Not that they were keeping count, but if they were, it would definitely put Em in the lead. She wondered briefly if this was Chris's way of getting back at her for the kiss the night before.
The last ultimate dare challenge issued had been by Emily. Chris had mooned an entire residential street from the window of the school bus.
She nodded.
“Go pee,” Chris whispered. “In the men's room.”
Emily smiled. It was, all in all, a pretty good dare. And it wasn't nearly as bad as sticking your rear end out a window. If anyone was in there, she'd just say it was a mistake and walk back out; Chris would never know whether or not she'd actually gone to the bathroom. She glanced around first for The Creep, because she didn't want to have to walk past him, as crazy as that sounded. He was out of the dining room by now, probably back on shift slinging burgers. As she scooted out of the banquette, James and Gus looked up. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. Gus wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I'll take you,” she said.
“No!” Em cried. “I mean, I can do it myself.”
“Melanie lets you go alone?” Gus asked dubiously.
Emily looked her in the eye and nodded. Gus turned to James, who shrugged. “This is Bainbridge,” he said. “What's going to happen?”
Gus watched Emily weave through the maze of bolted tables and chairs to the rest rooms in the rear of the McDonald's. Then she turned her attention to Kate, who was fingerpainting with ketchup on the table.
The men's room was to the left. The women's room was to the right. Emily glanced back at Chris, to make sure he was looking, and then she went inside.
In less than five minutes, she slid back onto the seat beside Chris. “Nice job,” he said, and touched her arm.
“It was no big deal,” Emily murmured.
“Oh, yeah?” he whispered. “Then how come you're shaking?”
“It's nothing,” she said, shrugging, but she would not look at him. She methodically ate a burger she could no longer taste, and slowly convinced herself that she had told him the truth. November 1997
J. Barrett Delaney had spent most of her adult life trying to live down the fact that she was a lawyer named Sue. It had been years since she'd actually used her Christian name to sign for anything,
Chris's parents had come over at lunchtime, his mother swooping down like a hawk to kiss his forehead. After gossiping with Emily's mom about who was wearing what to the party the night before, Gus offered to take Emily out to McDonald's with them for lunch-a thank-you for babysitting overnight. They had carried their trays to the dining area, but every time Emily turned around, The Creep was at the table beside her or behind her or just in front, rubbing down the slick Formica surface and staring at her with his one straight eye.
Chris sat beside her on the banquette. “I think,” he whispered, “he's your secret admirer.”
“Stop it,” Em shuddered. “You're freaking me out.”
“Maybe he'll ask for your phone number,” Chris continued. “Maybe he'll-”
“Chris,” Emily warned, punching him on the arm.
“What's going on?” Gus asked.
“Nothing,” they answered in unison.
Emily watched The Creep make his rounds, picking up ketchup packets people had dropped on the floor and mopping up a spilled Coke. He looked up at her, as if he could feel her eyes on him, and she immediately stared down at the seeded bun of her hamburger.
Suddenly Chris leaned over to whisper again. His breath was hot in the shell of her ear. “Ultimate dare,” he said.
An ultimate dare was one that raised you in the other person's estimation by leaps and bounds, if completed. Not that they were keeping count, but if they were, it would definitely put Em in the lead. She wondered briefly if this was Chris's way of getting back at her for the kiss the night before.
The last ultimate dare challenge issued had been by Emily. Chris had mooned an entire residential street from the window of the school bus.
She nodded.
“Go pee,” Chris whispered. “In the men's room.”
Emily smiled. It was, all in all, a pretty good dare. And it wasn't nearly as bad as sticking your rear end out a window. If anyone was in there, she'd just say it was a mistake and walk back out; Chris would never know whether or not she'd actually gone to the bathroom. She glanced around first for The Creep, because she didn't want to have to walk past him, as crazy as that sounded. He was out of the dining room by now, probably back on shift slinging burgers. As she scooted out of the banquette, James and Gus looked up. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. Gus wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I'll take you,” she said.
“No!” Em cried. “I mean, I can do it myself.”
“Melanie lets you go alone?” Gus asked dubiously.
Emily looked her in the eye and nodded. Gus turned to James, who shrugged. “This is Bainbridge,” he said. “What's going to happen?”
Gus watched Emily weave through the maze of bolted tables and chairs to the rest rooms in the rear of the McDonald's. Then she turned her attention to Kate, who was fingerpainting with ketchup on the table.
The men's room was to the left. The women's room was to the right. Emily glanced back at Chris, to make sure he was looking, and then she went inside.
In less than five minutes, she slid back onto the seat beside Chris. “Nice job,” he said, and touched her arm.
“It was no big deal,” Emily murmured.
“Oh, yeah?” he whispered. “Then how come you're shaking?”
“It's nothing,” she said, shrugging, but she would not look at him. She methodically ate a burger she could no longer taste, and slowly convinced herself that she had told him the truth. November 1997
J. Barrett Delaney had spent most of her adult life trying to live down the fact that she was a lawyer named Sue. It had been years since she'd actually used her Christian name to sign for anything,
Similar Books
