I grab my jacket and turn up the volume on New Order, deciding to wander a bit before heading over to Sludge. I’m immediately glad for my sweater, no matter how Christmassy, when the wind starts to blow. I definitely need to get a heavier coat. Maybe this weekend. My mind wanders to Ginger and how sometimes, on chilly days, I’d get us both hot chocolates and we’d climb the fire escape to the roof of her shop, looking down over South Street, the streets of beautiful old houses to the north, and the Italian Market to the south. I like my hot chocolate with vanilla and Ginge likes hers with cinnamon, and the smells of them would mix with those of the burger joint on the corner, the falafel cart down the street, the exhaust from cars inching down South Street, and the scent of rotting leaves and stale popcorn that always seems to drift through the streets as fall gives way to winter.
Up there on the roof is where I first told Ginger a secret: that after a spotty high school career of teachers who thought I was a loser punk with an attitude and skipping more classes than I went to because the teachers were idiots, I desperately wanted to go to college. Ginger smiled at me and said, “Of course you should go; you’re the smartest guy I know.” It’s also where she told me about her older brother who’d killed himself when she was fifteen after their father walked in on him having sex with another boy. For a while after that, I worried that the only reason she wanted to be friends with me was because I reminded her of her brother or something.
Part of me wants to tell Ginger about the whole Will thing in the hopes that she’ll tell me it’s nothing, but it’s way too early to call her. Will. There was something slightly off about that guy. Or, not off—just something that didn’t quite add up. Guys that pretty are usually so used to getting whatever they want that they’ve never fought in their lives. But Will didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated by the threat of a fight. Maybe he was just so sure of his primacy with Rex that he didn’t care? He did seem pretty concerned about Rex’s headache. Still, not really possessive the way a lover might be—more… what? Annoyed, maybe, that Rex was in pain? I’m not sure.
Out of nowhere, someone grabs my shoulder and I wheel around and grab them around the neck.
It’s Leo, and he looks terrified.
“Shit, Leo,” I say, brushing him off and ripping out my earbuds. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, man.”
“Um, I was yelling your name, dude.”
I’ve got to stop listening to my music so loud.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“No worries!” he says, looking cheerful again. “So, how was Detroit? Did you go to any shows? How was your conference? What was your talk about again?”
Jesus, it’s too early in the morning to have that kind of energy.
“Detroit was fine. I didn’t have time for anything but the conference. My paper went fine. It was about—”
“Oh, I remember. About turn of the century sensationalism in American newspaper illustration, right?”
I only remember briefly mentioning anything about my paper when I stopped in to Mr. Zoo’s on Friday. I assumed Leo was just being polite when he asked, and I can’t believe he understood what I was talking about, much less remembered it.
“That’s right. How do you remember that?”
He shrugs. “Dunno. Not that hard. Sounded interesting.” He’s bouncing a little, whether with energy or to keep warm, I’m not sure.
“What’re you doing out so early?” I ask.
“Oh, just wandering around,” Leo says. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.”
“Then I saw you and figured I’d come say hi. Hey, you wanna get a coffee? I know you always go to Sludge before class.”
“How do you—? Never mind. Yeah, sure, let’s go.”
Marjorie greets me with a suspicious smile when I walk in the door with Leo. With no energy to resist her, I bite the bullet.
“I’ll have a Daniel, please.”
She looks disappointed for a moment, then smiles widely, as if she’s beaten me. And maybe she has. I don’t even have the energy to care.
“Ooh, yes, me too,” Leo says.
“Dude,” I say, sharing a look with Marjorie. “You’re already bouncing off the walls; the thought of you ingesting that much caffeine actually makes me fear for the safety of this town and everyone in it.”
“Nah, I’m good. Besides, coffee has a… whaddayacallit… paradoxical effect on me.”
“Huh?” says Marjorie.
“It, like, chills me out,” Leo says.
“Well, glory hallelujah, pour the kid some coffee,” I mutter.
A stocky kid in trendy clothes comes in behind us. Leo’s bouncing increases and his elegant nostrils flare.
“Two Daniels!” Marjorie announces gleefully, putting the drinks on the counter.