dubious curiosity and rolled it over a couple of times in his fingers. He flipped out the blade with his thumb and brandished it in front of his face, let it catch the light. “What did I do to deserve this?” he asked.
“I stole it from Brookstone,” Francie said. “I had a feeling we’d see you again, and it seemed like something you would like.”
I wanted to know where Francie had gotten that knife. I wanted to know if she had really stolen it with Max in mind. I wanted to know why she had not told me about it.
“Thanks,” Max said. “This is awesome. Let’s kill someone!” He laughed at his own joke and waved the knife around some more before adding, “Just kidding,” although obviously we knew he was kidding.
“Wanna go to the food court?” she asked, even thoughshe had finished a Cinnabon about five seconds before he had showed up.
“Sure,” Max said. I realized suddenly that I had only said one word to him, and that that word had been hey. But I didn’t know what else to say. I felt like my presence was pretty much beside the point anyway. We took off for the food court, Francie and Max walking together a few paces ahead of me.
“Want to hear a joke?” I heard Francie say.
“Sure,” said Max.
“So there are these two blondes in the parking lot,” Francie said.
“Okay…” Max said. There was a note of uncertainty in his voice, like he was trying to see where she was headed. Like he suspected it was nowhere good.
Francie soldiered on. “So these two bimbos are standing there, trying to unlock the car door with a coat hanger.” She paused for effect, to no effect. “And they’re, like, fiddling with the door, and it’s taking forever, and it’s starting to get, like, totally cloudy, and the one blonde says to the other, ‘Hurry up, it’s about to rain and the top is down!’”
Crickets. Max tilted his head like he was waiting for her to finish, but if Francie noticed that no one was laughing, she didn’t betray any discomfort. Francie was really the worst at telling jokes, which was ironic, because she was the only person I knew who enjoyed them. She chuckled to herself and tossed her blond, blond hair. I noticed then that she had justredone it. The roots were mostly gone and it was a slightly different shade than before. Still white-blond, but with a new note of gold somewhere underneath it all. Max turned, looked over his shoulder at me, and raised his eyebrows, smiling. A couple of his teeth were slightly discolored from where I could tell he’d once had braces; his left canine tooth was a tiny bit undersized, leaving a gap. A dimple in one cheek. Max’s smile was nearly a snarl, just the right side of vulnerable. All over the mall, you could hear cash registers turning over, ka-ching.
“Your friend is crazy,” he said to me. “A blonde who tells blonde jokes.”
“Crazy!” Francie exclaimed. “Me, crazy! That’s a laugh!” She slapped him on the butt, all playful, and skipped ahead a couple of steps. Max looked at me again, shrugged, and this time just mouthed the word. Crazy, he said without making a noise.
“Smoothie time!” Francie announced. She took Max’s hand and pulled him with her into the food court. It was like the first line of one of Francie’s jokes. “A blonde and a brunette meet the world’s hottest boy in a parking garage.” You could already see how it would all go down.
Chapter Twelve
F rancie and I were standing on the escalator, heading down, when she grabbed me by the shoulder. “Look!” she hissed, and gestured across the atrium to a gray-haired woman in a long denim skirt, a purple T-shirt, and a purple felt beret. The woman was wandering through the crowd, pausing here and there to browse shop windows.
“No way,” I said. There was no mistaking who it was: our Physics teacher, Ms. Tinker. Francie squealed and applauded silently to herself, then clapped an open hand to her mouth.
“Let’s follow her!” she
“I stole it from Brookstone,” Francie said. “I had a feeling we’d see you again, and it seemed like something you would like.”
I wanted to know where Francie had gotten that knife. I wanted to know if she had really stolen it with Max in mind. I wanted to know why she had not told me about it.
“Thanks,” Max said. “This is awesome. Let’s kill someone!” He laughed at his own joke and waved the knife around some more before adding, “Just kidding,” although obviously we knew he was kidding.
“Wanna go to the food court?” she asked, even thoughshe had finished a Cinnabon about five seconds before he had showed up.
“Sure,” Max said. I realized suddenly that I had only said one word to him, and that that word had been hey. But I didn’t know what else to say. I felt like my presence was pretty much beside the point anyway. We took off for the food court, Francie and Max walking together a few paces ahead of me.
“Want to hear a joke?” I heard Francie say.
“Sure,” said Max.
“So there are these two blondes in the parking lot,” Francie said.
“Okay…” Max said. There was a note of uncertainty in his voice, like he was trying to see where she was headed. Like he suspected it was nowhere good.
Francie soldiered on. “So these two bimbos are standing there, trying to unlock the car door with a coat hanger.” She paused for effect, to no effect. “And they’re, like, fiddling with the door, and it’s taking forever, and it’s starting to get, like, totally cloudy, and the one blonde says to the other, ‘Hurry up, it’s about to rain and the top is down!’”
Crickets. Max tilted his head like he was waiting for her to finish, but if Francie noticed that no one was laughing, she didn’t betray any discomfort. Francie was really the worst at telling jokes, which was ironic, because she was the only person I knew who enjoyed them. She chuckled to herself and tossed her blond, blond hair. I noticed then that she had justredone it. The roots were mostly gone and it was a slightly different shade than before. Still white-blond, but with a new note of gold somewhere underneath it all. Max turned, looked over his shoulder at me, and raised his eyebrows, smiling. A couple of his teeth were slightly discolored from where I could tell he’d once had braces; his left canine tooth was a tiny bit undersized, leaving a gap. A dimple in one cheek. Max’s smile was nearly a snarl, just the right side of vulnerable. All over the mall, you could hear cash registers turning over, ka-ching.
“Your friend is crazy,” he said to me. “A blonde who tells blonde jokes.”
“Crazy!” Francie exclaimed. “Me, crazy! That’s a laugh!” She slapped him on the butt, all playful, and skipped ahead a couple of steps. Max looked at me again, shrugged, and this time just mouthed the word. Crazy, he said without making a noise.
“Smoothie time!” Francie announced. She took Max’s hand and pulled him with her into the food court. It was like the first line of one of Francie’s jokes. “A blonde and a brunette meet the world’s hottest boy in a parking garage.” You could already see how it would all go down.
Chapter Twelve
F rancie and I were standing on the escalator, heading down, when she grabbed me by the shoulder. “Look!” she hissed, and gestured across the atrium to a gray-haired woman in a long denim skirt, a purple T-shirt, and a purple felt beret. The woman was wandering through the crowd, pausing here and there to browse shop windows.
“No way,” I said. There was no mistaking who it was: our Physics teacher, Ms. Tinker. Francie squealed and applauded silently to herself, then clapped an open hand to her mouth.
“Let’s follow her!” she
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