Now That You're Here (Duplexity, Part I) (9 page)

He skates toward me and stops. “Great. What did he say?”

“Sounds like he's going to help. We're meeting him tomorrow after school.”

From a standstill, he jumps up, flips the board over and lands on both feet. “God, it feels good to be out here.”

“You
are
going to school tomorrow, right?”

He makes a face. “I don't see the point.”

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because it's what you're supposed to do.”

“It's not my school.”

True, but if my dad finds out he's ditching, he'll blow a gasket. “You should do the right thing for Danny. He isn't the best student.”

“I figured that much.”

“I'm serious.”

“Eevee, I don't even know his schedule.”

“Oh.” I hadn't thought of that. “We'll get it from the office. No big deal.”

He changes the subject. “Want a ride home?”

“No way.” I step back. “That thing will cause me serious bodily harm.”

“Come on.” He sets the board back down and holds out his hand. “I won't let you fall.”

I don't know Danny Ogden. I know
this
Danny Ogden even less. His eyes are kind, but can I trust him?

Guess we'll find out.

The wheels move when I step on. I grab his hand and try not to squeal.

What am I doing? If Warren sees this, he'll freak. Oh God, what if Dad is watching? Or worse, Mom? His hand is really soft….Eevee Solomon, you've lost your mind. And your balance.

The board does a crazy swerve and I gasp.

“Bend your knees. It'll help.”

I bend my knees. It does help. Until he grabs my other hand, and starts walking backward, taking the board and me with him.

“You're goofy.”

“Goofy?!” I laugh. “
You're
goofy.”

“No, I'm regular.” He tries to let go of one of my hands but I grab it back. “Goofy means you're right-footed. Right foot in front.”

“Oh. Of course.” I'm an idiot. I shouldn't be on this thing. We're headed for the curb. I'm going to break my neck.

“Lean all your weight toward me, on your toes….That's right.”

He guides me into a turn away from the sidewalk, through the circle of streetlight. “See? It's not so bad.” We stop in front of Mom's house and he helps me step off the board. “You just need some practice.” The light throws shadows across his face. His hands are warm around mine.

“Thanks for the ride.” My voice is quiet. “That was fun.”

“You're welcome.”

We're still holding hands.

“I should probably…” I glance over my shoulder at Mom's house.

“Right,” he says. “I should, too.”

“Good night.”

He lets go first and my hands feel empty and bare. I tuck them into my pockets, smile and walk through the grass to the front door.

“Eevee!”

I turn back.

“What time tomorrow morning?”

“Seven-thirty.”

He gives me a thumbs-up and skates toward Dad's. I watch him do one last flip and close the door behind me.

Why did I let her talk me into this?

The teacher looks like he's got something stuck up his butt. He paces back and forth in front of the whiteboard, pulling the cap off his dry-erase marker and forcing it back on. “Do you know the answer? No? Come on, guys. This one should be a no-brainer.”

When I can't stand it anymore, I clear my throat and half raise my hand. He points the marker at me.

“Forty-two?”

He's so happy you'd think I just gave him a birthday present. “Yes! Excellent.” He writes the numbers four and two really big under the problem and stands back to admire it like it's a Rembrandt or something.

Most of the class is comatose. The rest are goofing off.

I'm in loser hell.

Eevee took me to the office first thing this morning. Got me a copy of Danny's schedule. My schedule. This is our agreement: until we figure out how to get me back home, I lay low and do what I can to make things better for him—the other Danny. Which means going to class and being a good boy. I tried to explain to her that laying low for Danny would mean ditching school, smoking and probably knocking off a bank or something, but in the end she won. She can be really persuasive.

I look at the schedule. Next is PE. Can't wait.

“You have the rest of class to work on these problems,” the teacher says. “I don't mind if you use your books, but no talking or sharing work.” He starts passing out papers. Wakes up the droolers and tells a girl to put away her tunes. He lays a paper on my desk. He smells like bad cheese. I pull the pencil from my back pocket and look over the sheet.

Then,
zoom
. I rocket through the problems. Easy peasy. I write my name at the top and walk the paper up to the teacher's desk. He looks up. “You have a question?”

“No.” I hand him the paper. “I'm done.”

He raises an eyebrow. Takes the paper and looks it over. Raises both eyebrows. “I don't allow cheating in my class.”

Dude.

“I didn't cheat.” A couple of the losers look up, probably hoping there'll be a fight.

He reaches into his desk, pulls out another paper. Hands it to me with challenge written all over his face. “Prove it.”

This is lame. I start to walk back to my chair.

“No, no,” he says. “Right here.” He points to an empty spot on his desk.

I saunter back, tapping the pencil against my leg. Then I lean over the desk and rock the worksheet. Wham. Bam. Finish the last one with a flourish. Make my own Rembrandt and step back to admire it.

I got your challenge right here, cheese man.

He takes the paper from me and looks it over. Looks at me like I've just figured out world peace. “But…”

And it hits me how sad this is. The other Danny must be such a wasteoid. I turn off the attitude and turn on the good boy. “Just thought I'd start giving a damn. Darn. Sorry.”

A smile takes over his face and he's back to birthday happy. I've obviously made his day. And that's cool, I guess. “This is great, Danny. Really great. You can take it easy the rest of class.”

“Thanks.”

A couple of the losers glare at me as I walk to my desk. As if my doing a little math threatens their existence somehow.

Pathetic.

All of the sidewalks at Palo Brea have these huge support beams shaped like S's that curve from the ground up to the awnings. They're a foot around, at least, and perfect for skating. Every time I pass one, my head fills with trick ideas. Wallie. Pop shove-it. Maybe if I hit it right I could even do a vertical grind.

I pass the spot where I'll meet Eevee later and look for her face in the crowd. There's probably a special place where all the smart kids go. Keep them separated from the imbecile masses.

“Ogden!”

I jerk my head toward the sound. See a group of guys by a garbage can outside a locker bay. They've got bad news written all over them.

I make the cool-guy chin nod and keep going, but they call again. “Og!” When I get closer, one says, “Hey, man, haven't seen you around.”

These guys are hairy and rude and they stink. I wouldn't be surprised if they started picking mites off each other and eating them.

“Where you been?” This one's got to be the leader. He's not as hairy and his arm is slung over a girl's shoulders. She's wearing too much makeup. Trying too hard.

“Just been, you know, around.”

One of the bigger monkeys laughs and imitates me like a doofus. “Just been around.” That's right. Laugh it up, dumbass.

“You look like hell,” the leader says.

Nice.

The girl pipes up. “I think you look good.”

Nice.

Alpha monkey doesn't say anything, but he tightens his grip on her shoulder and she squirms. She knows the game she's playing. I'm tempted to tell her she's not my type, but it's probably best to keep my hole shut.

“I gotta run. Catch ya later.” I start walking away, but the leader calls after me.

“You gonna be at Dean's Friday?”

I grimace. “Nah, man. Can't. Other plans.”

“It's okay,” he says. “You can bring her.”

“Who?”

“That girl you were with this morning. Bring her. It's cool.”

“Oh.” I walk backward away from them. Like I'd ever invite Eevee to a party with these guys. Like she'd ever say yes. But I play along. For Danny's sake. “Um, yeah, I'll have to see about that.”

I turn around and smack right into one of the S-beams.
Clong.
The sound rings through my brain and I stumble around, dazed. My buddies back there fall all over themselves laughing.

Nice.

I try to use the beam incident as an excuse to get out of PE but the coach says not unless I want to go see Nurse Clara. I don't. She might call the foster parents, and then who knows what would happen.

So I go with the flow. Try to deflect attention. Until I realize I have no clue how to get into my—Danny's—gym locker.

“Uh, Coach?” I interrupt him talking to a guy in a tie. Must be a teacher or someone. They both look at me like I'm being rude, which I guess I kind of am.

“I can't remember my locker combination.”

The guy in the tie raises an eyebrow. Coach says, “This is getting old, Danny.”

“Sorry.”

“Look at me.” Tie guy gets right in my face and says under his breath, “You high again?”

“No.”

His eyes dart back and forth across mine.

“I'm not. I swear. Just can't remember the numbers.”

He sneers and steps back. “I'll catch up with you later, Terry.”

“Sounds good, Tom.”

Tie guy leaves the locker room. “This way,” Coach says, and I follow him to his office. He opens the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet and tosses clothes at me. “Go get changed.”

He walks out of the office and announces, “Out to the track, guys. We're doing laps today.”

Everyone groans and I'm still standing there holding a pair of green shorts and a school T-shirt. They both stink like, well, I don't even want to know.

This totally sucks. I blame Eevee.

The track runs around the football field. When I finally get out there, I try to catch up to the rest of the class. My knee is purple from the first day when I crashed it into the street. I push through the pain and pound my feet on the clay.

“How many left?” I ask the guy running closest to me, my words broken up with panting.

“How many what?” He's not having any problem running and talking.

“Laps,” I wheeze. “How many laps?”

“I dunno. Ten?”

There's no way. This body has the lungs of an eighty-year-old smoker. I'm gonna die. My feet scuff along as I push myself to stay with the pack. Somehow, despite the coughing and wheezing, I manage to keep up. At the end of the run, I collapse on the grass of the football field. Coach stands over me, blocking out the sun.

“Good effort, Ogden,” he says. “Nice to see you trying.”