It was lunch hour when I got to school. I saw Dylan at his locker and clomped toward him in my rubber boots. “Amigo!” he said. “How’d it go?”
“Pretty good, I think.”
“Winnie’s been back for a while. With a little black cloud over her head.”
“Yeah, I don’t think it went so well for her. And also, she’s mad at me.”
“Why?”
“I told her to shut up.”
“Oh. Well. I can see the temptation.”
“Yeah.”
“But you should probably say you’re sorry. You know, for all our sakes.”
I nodded. “Wish me luck.”
He patted my shoulder. “Luck.”
I walked down the crowded halls toward the cafeteria. I spotted Winnie’s yellow beret in the distance. But it wasn’t on her head—it was being flung like a Frisbee by Donald and Vlad.
Winnie was between them, jumping up and trying to grab it as it flew by. “Cut it out, you guys. It’s not funny!”
I felt really angry all of a sudden. Angry on Winnie’s behalf, yes. But my anger felt like an octopus; it had many tentacles.
I really had grown a lot since September, because the next time Donald tossed the beret I grabbed it effortlessly in midair. I handed it back to Winnie.
“What’d you do that for?” said Donald. “We were just having fun.”
I grabbed Donald’s ball cap off his head and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. “Did that feel fun? Or did it feel kind of aggressive and threatening? Because maybe that’s how it feels to Winnie.”
“Don’t speak for me, thank you very much,” she said. Then she added, “But he isn’t wrong. It does feel aggressive—”
“Hey,” Donald interrupted. “That’s mine.”
“What?”
He was staring at my chest. “That shirt.”
“No, it’s not. I just bought it.”
“Not new, you didn’t. Look, it’s got the grease stain from my bike and everything. That’s why my mom gave it away. To the poor people’s place.”
I felt sick. “It’s not a poor people’s place. It’s the Salvation Army.”
“Yeah, where poor people shop. I mean, what regular person would buy a used, stained shirt?”
Thanks to my growth spurt I had a good two inches on Donald. And yet I’d never felt as small as I did right then.
Winnie turned to him, her hands planted on her hips. “You’re an idiot, Donald. Tons of cool people shop at thrift shops. Not that you would know.”
Donald shrugged. “Hey, whatever. I’m just saying, it’s where my mom donates all the crap we don’t want.”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to donate you,” Winnie snarled.
It was Donald’s turn to look offended. He plucked his ball cap out of the garbage bin. “Whatever. You two freaks deserve each other.” He and Vlad walked away.
I knew my face was red. I could barely bring myself to look at Winnie. I looked at a spot on the floor instead.
“Three things,” she said. “One, Donald’s a turd. Two, that shirt looks great on you. And three, while I am partially grateful for your knight-in-shining-armor routine, it does not forgive your earlier behavior.”
Then she placed her beret on her head and walked out the front doors.
I found her at one of the picnic tables, laying out her lunch: two sandwiches, two egg tarts, a mandarin orange, a cheese stick and a bag of rice crackers.
I sat across from her. “Aren’t you cold out here?”
She took a bite from one of her sandwiches. “Did I say you could join me?”
“No. And I’ll leave in a minute, I promise. I never should have snapped at you this morning. I’m sorry. There’s just— I have a lot of stuff going on, stuff I can’t talk about. But I never should have taken it out on you.”
She looked up from her sandwich. “Why can’t you talk about it?”
“I’d be breaking someone’s trust.”
“Your mom’s?”
I nodded. She didn’t say anything, so I stood to go.
“Wait. Where’s your lunch?”
“I forgot it,” I said. An Invisible Lie.
She slid one of her sandwiches and one of her egg tarts across the table. “Eat.”
I sat back down. I was so hungry, even her bread didn’t taste half bad.
“Are you?” she asked.
“Am I what?”
She kept her gaze on the table. “Poor.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“That must be hard.”
“We’re okay. Really. It’s just temporary.” Winnie passed me half her cheese stick and half her mandarin, which I accepted without a word. “I’m sorry things didn’t go better for you this morning.”
“I tanked. I froze with the buzzer.”
“I bet a lot of smart people tanked. It was stressful.”
“How did you do?”
“Pretty good, I think.”
“What happens next?”
“They said they’d let us know in two weeks if we’ll be on the show.”
She held up her bag of rice crackers and gestured for me to open my hands. Then she poured in a bunch. “I’m happy for you,” she said.
And this time, she sounded sincere.
Astrid texted me the new location of the van. She said she was job hunting and would be home by dinner.
It was a long walk. She’d parked the Westfalia on a quiet street in Dunbar, far from the Point Grey garage. I noticed that she’d rubbed the license plate with mud to make it less visible.
I climbed in and closed the door behind me. I took off my coat and peeled off the red polo shirt, then put on my hoodie.
I climbed back out. I walked to a nearby park and tossed the red polo shirt into a garbage bin.
“I got you these today,” Astrid said when she got back. “I hope they fit.” She held out a pair of barely used black Converse sneakers. I took them without a word. I didn’t want to know where, or how, she’d gotten them.
I continued my silent treatment throughout dinner, which was tinned stew. “I know you’re still angry with me,” she said. “And I don’t blame you. But will you tell me about your audition? I really want to know.”
“It was fine.”
“Come on, Böna. Please?” Her eyes were glistening.
I caved. I told her about the entire morning in great detail, except for the part about the prize money; I didn’t want to get her hopes up.
Later, when we were lying in our beds, Astrid said into the near darkness, “Things will get better soon, Felix. I promise.”
I used to believe her when she said that. Then for a while I thought it was more like a Give Peace a Chance.
But now? Now it felt like a Someone Might Lose an Eye.