Chapter 52
Ican't believe Clint is capable of self-reflection.
All because I had to stupidly pick the lawn gnome from his house one night last year, I'm now stuck with this creep for the rest of my life.
I channel my rage into a portrait of Mr. Deel as Pennywise the Clown with his big forehead during astronomy while Deelywise tells us all about Jewish space lasers.
I pass it to Byron, who throws his head back, cackling.
After class, I catch Felix in the hallway.
“Did you sign the lease papers yet?” I ask him as we walk.
“Sorry, I've been so caught up with school that I forgot about it,” he replies.
Yeah, I'm sure.
“Just FYI, I'm going to have lunch with Byron in the theater room again,” I say.
“I figured,” Felix says. “I can go to the comp sci room to work on my district project.”
“The weather app?”
“Did Roland tell you?” he asks. I nod. “I know it's too late to save your parents, but maybe it can save lives in the future.”
“Hmm.”
“I thought maybe you'd think it's cool,” he says.
“I thought coding made you so miserable,” I say.
“I don't know anymore. Maybe it doesn't.”
“What about California and us?”
“What about it? You think I'm bailing?” he asks.
“It feels like you are.”
Felix stops walking. His shoulders tense up.
“Why? Because I like coding now? Do you want me to go out and do another dumb Bigfoot prank instead and keep the world on its toes?”
“Sorry to hear it's so dumb,” I say. “Fortunately, Roland is there to protect you from doing anything dumb.”
“Come on, Wade. Why do we always have to be sad? We're almost out of here, the musical is happening, we have boyfriends…”
“You're right. I'm happy, Felix. Believe me! I have never been happier in my entire life,” I say, and walk away.
“Great,” he mutters behind me.
___________
We're opening in one week and I still can't get the dance right. Luis, getting more and more frustrated, curses in Spanish. When I get into Byron's car after, we talk about it.
“Is it okay if I stop by the mall for a second?” Byron asks as he drives me home. I nod. Surprisingly, I'm starting to like spending time around him.
We walk past the food court and Byron moves toward a territory I was hoping never to revisit: Adam's workplace.
I stop where I am and hesitate, thinking of what to say.
“Are you okay?” Byron asks. “I need to grab a book since my AP lit classmates and I are starting a banned book reading club to piss off Aubrey Lam.”
“I, uh—I wanted some frozen yogurt, so I can go grab some while you're in the store,” I say. I turn around and bump into somebody.
I quickly apologize before I even glance at their face.
Of course it's Adam, who I was hoping I'd never see again, coming back from a break with a coffee in hand.
“Well, well, if it isn't the spinner of tall tales himself,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. “Weren't you molested by Bigfoot? Or is that another one of your gargantuan lies?”
“You must mean your friend, Carsten,” Byron says. “He's a great liar.”
“Looks like you keep the same company, honey. Your friend there conned me real good to get me to go out with that freak Roland Greenway. Had me totally gagged that night.”
“Anyway,” Byron says impatiently, “can you make yourself useful and help me find a copy of The Song of Achilles?”
Adam strides ahead of us without even giving a cue to follow. He cuts a path across the store and takes us to the fiction section, where there's a noticeable amount of vacant space.
“I guess not,” he says. “Someone keeps coming in and buying all these books. I honestly think they just burn them.”
Byron groans and looks at me in exasperation.
Another employee, an older lady, interrupts us with another woman standing behind her.
“Adam, this customer is looking for a Pecos Bill cartoon book,” she says.
He cringes for a second, closing and reopening his eyes like a bad memory has passed through him like a freight train.
“Uh, the aisle on the back wall over there,” he says, and the lady follows his direction.
Byron grabs my hand and leads me away.
“Why did you cringe like that?” Adam's coworker asks, sounding amused.
“Sorry,” Adam says. “The word ‘Pecos' is triggering. When I was nine, my mom was married to some asshole with a masculinity complex for six months. He loved saying that word all the time.”
I stop dead in my tracks like I've hit a brick wall and whip my head around.
“What's—” Byron says. I shush him.
“He was this bogus failure,” Adam continues.
“He dropped out of community college to attend the local police academy and failed out.
My mom got him a job selling insurance while he was working on his masterpiece novel that was going to ‘make him rich.
' He made me read The Catcher in the Rye because he claimed it would make me a real man. I was in third grade and could barely even get through Percy Jackson.”
“Yup, I've dated my share of that kind of guy,” his coworker says.
“The funny thing is, if there was the tiniest spider in a room, he would scream bloody murder and flee the house. This hypermasculine wannabe lothario couldn't even stomach a harmless little spider.”
A harmless little spider.
A harmless little SPIDER.
A HARMLESS LITTLE SPIDER.
The words echo across my brain in three-part harmony, my neurons colliding joyfully into each other as the music on the intercom swells.
Byron pokes me. “Why are you smiling?”
“Do you mind if we make a pit stop before you take me back home?”
___________
“Wade, it's staring at me,” Byron squeals as he drives.
I've got the terrarium in my lap, knowing I'm one unexpected hit on the brakes away from death. Arachnodesiac is doing his angry dance, which is kind of cute and endearing at this point.
“Focus on the road and don't be too friendly with the brakes, or else we'll be in big trouble,” I say.
When he parks in my driveway, he asks me to explain what Adam was talking about, so I tell him about the plot to find Roland a boyfriend.
“You went to bat for Roland Greenway after all he's done to us? You tried to set him up with a guy, so he repays you by stealing your best friend?”
I wouldn't use the word “steal,” but it feels good to have somebody back me in this situation.
“That's sweet…” Byron says.
“The ironic thing is he's been out for less time than I have, and he still got his first kiss with another guy, while I haven't,” I say.
“Didn't we kiss at the movie?” Byron asks. My mind goes blank.
“Does that count? Since we were faking it.”
Byron giggles and looks at me out of the corners of his eyes. “I wasn't faking it.”
He takes off his seat belt and reaches across the console and over the terrarium. He slowly kisses my cheek, moves to the side of my mouth, and eyes me for a moment before we lock lips. It's somehow wet and electric. Neither of us lets go.
I open one eye, and the spider is sprawled out against the glass, tapping his fangs on it. Byron opens his eyes and screams.
Nothing like one of the world's most venomous creatures to ruin an intimate moment.
“Sorry. He gets a bit cranky. Can you help me bring him inside?”
We carry the terrarium into the living room with slow steps and carefully set it on the coffee table.
Dinah steps in from the kitchen, her nose wrinkling in disdainful curiosity.
“In what universe did I ever say you could bring a pet inside this house?”
“It's a project for… uh…” I struggle for the words, realizing I hadn't thought of a fake reason for bringing this monstrosity into our house to begin with.
“AP bio,” Byron chimes in.
“Yeah, it's my final project and I need to do it to graduate,” I add.
Arachnodesiac spreads his fangs as a little demonstration for Dinah.
“I don't like its attitude. Why couldn't you bring home a cute spider, like the one in Charlotte's Web?” she complains. “And how long are you keeping it here?”
“Maybe a few weeks or a month,” I tell her, suppressing the urge to add “until Clint leaves.”
“Can't you keep it in your room?” she asks.
“It needs a bigger space with a TV for stimulation while I'm gone,” I say.
“Fine, since it's for school. But if this house starts to smell like spider shit, it's going outside.”
“What does spider shit even smell like?” Byron asks me.
“Where is Clint?” I ask Dinah impatiently.
“He's out on business.” She turns to the spider and sticks her finger into the glass where it stares at her. “And you need to shape up real fucking fast.” It immediately retracts his legs and backs into a corner as Dinah walks away.
I ask Byron if he wants to stay for dinner knowing full well the answer is no. I guess I just like being around him. It's weird. I wasn't expecting this. After he leaves, I wait around the house hoping Clint will come home and see the spider.
It isn't until I'm asleep in bed that I hear a wail so bloodcurdling that I spring up from my pillow and watch a possum fall out of the pine tree next to my window.