How to Break a Heart (13 page)

“I’m not sharing.”

“But you just had all that bean dip!”

“That was just a warm-up,” he says, “an hors d’oeuvre.”

Thad plops the foil-wrapped burritos on the not-so-clean table. They land with heavy splats, and Thad goes to get extra hot sauce. When he comes back, he says, “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“I wasn’t waiting for you. I was waiting for a fork and knife. And a plate.”

He laughs. “Seriously, Collins? You really don’t know how to eat a burrito?” He rips into the foil and starts with a massive bite.

“I know how to eat a burrito,” I say, “with
manners
. What kind of burrito did you get me anyway?”

“Seafood,” he says.

“Seafood?”

“Yeth,” he says, and opens his mouth to display all. “See? Food!”

I close my eyes before they burn out of my head. “You’re so obnoxious! What are you, six?”

He takes a swig of his Dr Pepper and clears his mouth and says, “
You’re
obnoxious. Just eat and stop being such a snob.”

“I’m not a snob!” I say.

He dips his burrito into a mound of hot sauce. “You’re acting like one.” He makes his voice mockingly high and, for some reason, British.
“Where’s my fork? And don’t give me a salad fork! Where’s my fancy, fancy napkin?”

“I didn’t say that!”

He shrugs.

“Well, okay, fine, if I’m a snob, you’re a pig.” I try to rip open the foil like he did, and take a massive bite. Through a full mouth I say,
“I’m Thad Bell, I’m such a man. Stuffing my face.”
I take my burrito and dip it into his hot sauce.
“I like lots and lots of hot sauce because I’m such a big, big pig man.”
And then I take a big bite.
“Yum, yum, yum!”
I say as I chew like a rabid animal.

And then I nearly die, because it feels just like heartbreak, if you could take all of the emotional stuff out of it and just leave the physical torment.

The hot sauce is
hot
. My entire face heats up, including my earlobes, and the backs of my eyes burn. Searing pain fills my throat and chest. I gasp and grab for his Dr Pepper. I take a big sip, which only intensifies the burning feeling. I start to cough. Thad runs off—
of course!
—and then he has the nerve to come back with a bowl of chips!
Oh, yes, pleeeease, sit down and enjoy some refreshments while I asphyxiate,
I would say if I could actually talk.

But he pushes the chips in my direction. “Here. This helps.”

I’ll try anything at this point. I take a bite of one and the burning in my mouth starts to subside.

“Dude,” he says, and starts to laugh, “that was pretty impressive.”

I narrow my eyes to slits. It’s a nice, threatening look, I’m sure of it.

“Hey, what’s that?” he asks, eyeing the neckline of my sweater.

“What?”

“I think you just grew some hair on your chest.”

Horrified, I look down quickly, before I realize it’s just a stupid joke, and not a very original one. Still, it kind of surprises me that I feel a little thud of disappointment when Thad pulls out his phone and looks at the time, and says, “Dude, I gotta go.”

“You do?” I ask. He’s already gathering his trash. “Hey, next time, you want to meet somewhere else? You can come to my house or something. Or I can come to—”

“Nah. Here’s good. Anyway, I gotta go. I’m late.”

“For what?”

“For home,” is all he says.

“Oh,” is all I say back. Then he skates off, breaking all the rules—not just of the mall, but of proper etiquette in general.

“Rude!” I call out, but he’s long gone. A woman passing by shoots me an offended look. “Sorry, not you, ma’am!” But then I notice the ma’am is actually a sir. And then I see Captain Jerry appear on his Segway, and the
sir
approaching him, and I realize it’s probably a good idea for me to go home really fast, too.

T
had checks for police cars or other out-of-place vehicles sitting outside the town house when he comes home. It’s only been a few days since he broke the window, but today he’s extra nervous, now that he knows Mabry’s trying to investigate the “crime scene,” as she calls it. It’s like the air has been trapped high in his lungs and he hasn’t really exhaled for hours, not since he amazingly derailed her with the lie about the Star Wars figurine.
Did she really believe that?

But the coast is clear. Even from outside, he can hear the comforting whistle of Aunt Nora’s teakettle. It makes him relax a little. The door is unlocked, so he goes right in, happy not to have to fish the keys out of his pocket.

She is at the table, stirring some honey into her tea.

“Hi, Aunt Nora.”

“Hi, hon,” she says. It’s her day off, but she sounds tired.
Over
this day, like she sometimes says.

“What are you up to?” he asks her.

“Well, I have a friend stopping by soon.”

Somehow he never really imagined Nora having friends. Not that she wouldn’t. Just that she’s so busy. Working here or working at the Buy-It-All. But always working.

Thad takes off his skate gloves and unwraps the thin layer of gauze.

Aunt Nora’s eyes go to his uncovered hand. She winces. “It still looks pretty rough.”

“It’s better,” he says as he reaches for the milk. “I’m taking care of it.” He pours himself a bowl of cereal.

“You don’t have to eat that standing up, you know,” she says.

“I was going to take it to my room.”

“Why would you do that?”

“So you can hang out with your friend.”

“Well, I’m sure he’d love to see you. He was asking about you. He knew your dad.”

He?
Thad’s spoon stops in midair. He’d been picturing two middle-aged women sitting down for tea, not a visit from a man.

“Your friend knew dad?” Thad asks.

“They were good friends when they were kids,” she says. “We all went to school together. But I haven’t seen him or talked to him in, oh, about ten years.”

“And he just contacted you out of the blue?”

“Pretty much. Said your dad’s been on his mind. He wanted to know how he could get in touch.”

Thad swallows the cereal too hard, and it travels down slowly, scraping the sides of his throat.

Aunt Nora starts to tear up. Thad puts his spoon down and regrets every gaping mouthful of the cereal. It sits heavy in his stomach.

He takes a seat at the table. “So you had to give him the news?”

She nods. A tear slips to her cheek, and she wipes it away with the side of her hand and laughs. “Just look at me! Fine company I’ll be.”

He laughs, too, thankful to have something to laugh at, something to loosen the tightening feeling behind his own eyes.

“Anyway,” she says, a little watery. “He’ll be here any minute.”

Thad doesn’t want any tears of his own to slip out in front of anyone, let alone a stranger. “I really should go to my room. I have school stuff.”

“Oh, Thad, just stay for a few minutes, okay? That’s all. He’d like to meet you. You’re half your dad, you know. All the good parts.” She looks at him with birthday-cake eyes that are soft and sweet and hopeful.

The good parts. He feels a jab of guilt. Where are those good parts? Nothing about him feels good anymore. No. Everything about him feels as broken and sharp as the glass he shattered.
He
should be wrapped in yellow caution tape.

“And anyway,” she continues, “it’d be nice for you meet him, too. He’s a security officer at the school.”

The cells in his body start to pulse with alert, as if an alarm has been pulled somewhere inside.
Waaat! Waaat! Waaat!
He sits upright.
Security officer.
School.
The words bounce around in his head as he struggles with the proper emergency response. His mouth drops open and words jump out. “Uh, can’t, no—”

But the doorbell rings, and the sharp sound zips through his spine, cutting his words off like the edge of a cliff.

“Oh, hon, relax,” Aunt Nora says, getting up from the table. She’s no doubt confusing his real anxiety with the anxiety of going back to school.

But Thad can’t relax, not with his internal security system bleat-ing
Danger! Danger!
As soon as she’s out of the kitchen, he jerks to standing, his chair toppling over, his thigh knocking the table a few inches off center. That’ll leave a bruise.

He hears them talking. “Dirk! You look so good.”

“NORA! GREAT TO SEE YOU.” His voice is louder than any person’s should be. It’s like his volume has been turned up to eleven.

“Come in! Please!”

“LOVE TO.”

He hears the whooshing sound of a jacket against a sweater. The squeezy breaths of an embrace. The gentle
thwack-thwack
of the friendly back pats.

“Can I get you some tea?”

“HERBAL IF YOU HAVE IT.”

Thad’s muscles unfreeze and he rushes toward the back of the house, to his mom’s room. He cracks open the door. She’s sleeping.

“Thad?” Aunt Nora calls him. “Where are you?”

He can’t hide. He looks down at his hand, bare without the skating gloves. If this school security officer doesn’t already know that he broke the window, this will definitely give it away.

Thad jams his hands into his jeans pockets and walks out slowly.

“Hi,” he says. The man’s eyes are too light blue, like an interrogation light is shining through them. His face is fleshy and heavy. His nose points downward, the corners of his mouth droop toward his chin, his eyebrows are low. Everything about him seems weighted down.

“THADDEUS,” the man says.

Thad pulls his gaze away, settling his stare on a square shape in the linoleum floor. He wonders what will come next.
Thaddeus Bell, you have the right to remain silent.

But the man says, “OFFICER DIRK MEADOWS HERE, BUT CALL ME OFFICER DIRK. IT’S AN HONOR TO MEET YOU.”

Thad’s eyes flicker back up to the man’s, and then straight down again.

Officer Dirk extends his right hand.

Crap.

So much for hiding his scraped-up hand. He thinks about bolting again, but knows it would make things worse. Might as well face reality.

He draws his right hand out of its pocket. But before he can reach it toward its fate, Officer Dirk’s hands clap into his shoulder blades, pulling Thad into him. It takes him a second to realize this is a hug.

“YOU LOOK JUST”—the loud voice cracks right into Thad’s ear—“LIKE HIM.”

And just as soon as the hug has started, it’s over. He leans away from Thad, takes a sniffly breath through his nose, and asks Nora about that herbal tea.

Aunt Nora smiles. “Peppermint or lemon ginger?”

“DEFINITELY LEMON GINGER.”

“Well, have a seat.”

Officer Dirk pulls a chair away from the table and swings it around. He sits down, straddling the chair, and looks up at Thad, who is standing hesitantly on the other side of the table.

“WHAT ABOUT YOU.”

Thad pauses. He looks over at Aunt Nora.

“Oh, Dirk, I can never get him to drink tea.”

“NOT EVEN WITH HONEY.”

Even Officer Dirk’s questions sound like proclamations. Thad wonders how he gets through life without question marks. Does he declare directions when he gets lost? Does he command friends to come over, women to go out on dates with him?

Nora laughs gently. “Nope, not even with honey.”

“I HEAR YOU’RE COMING TO SCHOOL SOON.”

“Oh.” Thad stiffens. The answer, he’s decided, is no, but he gets the feeling that may be the wrong one. And
maybe
is too wishy-washy for this Proclamation Man. And
yes
? Well, that’s just a bold-faced lie.

Aunt Nora bails him out. “We’ve been talking about it.” She brings two teacups over to the table. “Now, speaking of school”—she looks at Thad—“don’t you have some work to get to?”

Relief.
“Yes!” He knows he sounds way too happy about schoolwork, but he’s grateful for this exit. Suddenly he feels exhausted. “Well, nice meeting you,” he says to Officer Dirk, dipping his face a little.

Officer Dirk nods. “A PLEASURE.”

Thad turns to the stairs.

“HEY, THAD.”

Is this the moment he springs it all on him?
I know what you did,
he’ll say in that eighteen-point-font voice.

Thad turns back to face him, but moves in slow motion.

Officer Dirk’s searing eyes lock on to Thad’s. He takes a sip of his lemon-ginger tea. And says, “SEE YOU SOON.”

And even though Dirk’s voice is as PA-system as ever, his words are subtle.

Does he know?

Oh, he knows. He’s got to. Those eyes. That look.

Thad goes upstairs to his room. Despite the chatter downstairs, and the occasional statement of laughter—a practical war cry of “HA, HA, HA” over the tinkling giggles of his aunt’s—he’s worried. He doesn’t know—in his head, that is—that Officer Dirk knows what he’s done, but he feels it in the center of his stomach.

It’s just a matter of when the guy will strike.