Arno came out of school and Mickey was standing there waiting for him. It was Wednesday, lunchtime, and everyone was being let out of school early for homecoming and the Thanksgiving holiday. Arno had been through a rough couple of days. His mom and dad didn’t appear to be speaking to each other, and Mickey’s dad kept calling his house. Arno had no idea why. He wanted to ask Mickey, but he doubted Mickey would know anything about what his father was up to since he avoided his father as much as he possibly could.
Arno turned up his collar and stuffed his hands into his blazer pockets. He didn’t have a schoolbag with him since he didn’t have any plans to do any work over the break.
“They let you all out earlier than us?” Arno asked Mickey.
“No, I’m still supposed to be there. But they were going to do all that homecoming bullshit, so I cut out.” Mickey shivered. He was in shorts, flip-flops and a white leather motorcycle jacket. The Gissing kids stared at him.
“Everything cool with Jonathan at your house?” Arno asked.
“Yeah—I’ve barely seen him, actually. I know he went to school the last couple of days, and then he hung out at his house with that painter. We were supposed to meet up today, though.”
“What are we doing now?” Mickey asked.
“Don’t we usually go to the movies?” Arno suggested.
It was true. In the past they’d cut out of homecoming activities and everything else and gone to whatever joke movie was playing—Old School or Riddick or any of that other garbage—the stupider the better. They always erred in favor of those in the group who couldn’t possibly sit through a whole movie unless they were high.
“Yeah, I think Fog of War is playing. We can go as soon as Jonathan comes out,” Arno said, nodding at the main entrance to Gissing. “David’s playing Potterton’s student/alumni basketball game, right? What about Patch?”
“I heard that Patch went to school today.”
“Huh.”
“Right.” Arno checked his watch. It was a seventies Rolex he’d snagged from his dad, and it was so big it made his wrist look feminine. With his blazer, he wore a turtleneck and jeans. “Aren’t you freezing?” Arno asked.
“Kind of. Why don’t we go watch David play ball. I bet there’ll be girls there.”
“Our exes?”
“Yeah, but more, besides.” The truth was Mickey wasn’t really up for seeing other girls yet, but he knew exactly how to get Arno’s attention.
“All right, cool. It’ll be like… like scouting for Ginger Shulman’s party later.” Arno smiled to himself at that thought.
“Hey man,” Mickey threw an arm around Jonathan as he came out of Gissing. “Let’s get you over to Potterton to see some good basketball and bad women.”
“Okay, why not.” Jonathan said.
Mickey hailed a cab.
“I talked to Ruth,” Jonathan said. “She’ll be at Ginger’s but she can’t see me till then. I can’t believe I’m the only one of us with a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, that is weird.” Arno twisted the dial on his Rolex but the click-click-click sound faded away when the cab took off across town.
Later, Arno called Patch, which felt particularly surreal since it happened so rarely. Neither of them were phone guys.
“It was cool. David got a triple double and stuffed on that kid Alex who’s playing for Yale this year. Remember Alex? We hated that kid. And now David stuffed his ass.”
“Sounds cool,” Patch said.
“I’m home,” Arno said. “I’m just going to change and shit, before we head to Ginger Shulman’s, which is at her parents’ new apartment this year. I bet everybody’ll be there. Definitely Liesel—I told you I blew her off, right?”
“What’s up?” Patch said. But Arno knew he wasn’t talking to him. Patch liked to buy presents for his family for Thanksgiving rather than Christmas, so he was out shopping.
“Are you in SoHo?”
“I gotta go,” Patch said. “I see Selina Trieff, or I think I’m supposed to meet her, and she’s here.”
“Dude, is she your girlfriend or isn’t she?”
But Patch was already gone. Arno let himself into his house, which was bustling with strangers. There were always workmen in there, hanging art from the gallery or taking it down, or there were cooks preparing food for a benefit or special event his parents were having in one of the common rooms.
“Hello there, boy,” his dad said. “Have you seen your mom?”
“No.”
Arno and his dad stared at each other. Where was Allie Wildenburger?
“Where have you been?”
“Um, me and the guys just saw a movie. And we’re meeting up again in a couple of hours.”
Mr. Wildenburger’s nose was twitching like a rabbit’s, and the foxes on his velvet loafers seemed to be baring their teeth at Arno.
“Ask around for your mother, would you? For me? I’m off.”
“To where?”
“Paris.”
“But Dad, tomorrow’s Thanksgiving!”
“It’s also the day your friend Jonathan’s father’s getting married, and that’s more important.”
“You’re his best man, yeah? Didn’t you say that earlier?”
“Now I’m his worst man. I’ve got to get there and serve him papers before his new wife can lay claim to his money. Oh wait—”
“You’re not supposed to know any of this. You’re totally confused, aren’t you? Save me some turkey. I’ll see you on the weekend.” And with that, Mr. Wildenburger strode out of the living room.
Arno landed with a thump on the couch and wondered if this had something to do with why Jonathan had been so weird lately. But wasn’t the new wife rich? What about that huge yacht and the sailing trip?
“One other thing.” Arno’s dad poked his head back in. “Tell your mother that if I find out she’s been spending time with Ricardo Pardo, I’m going to murder them both.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arno spoke plaintively. He couldn’t figure out what Mickey’s dad had to do with anything.
“Right. You shouldn’t know any of this. Forget I said anything. Sorry.” And Arno’s dad was gone.