We settled for the mall food court. Dullsville Mall was probably no different from any other mall in America,li had the same dress, shoe, candle, lotion, lingerie, earring stores, and kiosks as any mall. I wasn't a mall rat but rather a thrift-store junkie. But there was one thing I couldn't resist at the mall: the food court. Every time my mom or Becky dragged me there for a day of shopping, I was like a vulture on an abandoned carcass as I sampled the Ices, pizza, or free Chinese meat on a stick.
Trevor found me waiting with a slice of cheese pizza and a frozen cherry drink at a table in the center of the food court.
"At last I have you all to myself," Trevor said.
"Evidently not."I pointed to a kid from the next table, waving to us like we were his family.
"Hello," the cute boy said. The small child reminded me of Trevor when he was in kindergarten-perfect blond hair, perfect white teeth, perfectly pressed clothes.
"Children are a great judge of character," Trevor commented.
"That's why he's waving at me, not you."
"Turn around, Lance. Sorry he was bothering you." The mother picked up her son and held him on the other side of their table.
Trevor took a bite of my pizza.
"Hey, get your own!"
"I heard about the Mansion," he said. "I told you it was an eyesore.Rotting away. I can't believe you hang out in that hellhole. But maybe that's why you call it home."
"You're right. When I was there last week, we discovered a room full of flies. Just like the Amityville Horror."
"And you think that's cool?"
"Why wouldn't I? Now, do you want to continue to talk more about how gross the Mansionis- "
"No- let's get started."
I hadn't even looked at the brief question sheet. It was folded up and stuck in my English notebook. Of course Trevor kept his pristine in a folder marked "English Lit."
"Do you want to go first?" he asked. "Or shall I?"
I didn't answer.
"Please. Let me get this over with." He took out a pen, leaned in close, and began to read." 'When you were in kindergarten, what did you want to be?'"
I glared back at him.
I remembered that first day of kindergarten as clear as if it were yesterday. I had replied, "A vampire."
"A princess," I said.
Apparently Trevor remembered my real answer, too. I guess it wasn't every day that one had a classmate as odd as I had been and still appeared to be.
"That's not what you said," he challenged. "You said, 'A vampire."
"Really?I don't recall. So you are going to write that down?" I asked worriedly.
I knew I was going to stand in front of my class and say, "I wanted to be a vampire." Trevor would then say, "Duh," and the classroom would fill with laughter and mocking students.
Trevor scribbled something down on the sheet.
" 'Whenyou were little, what inspired you to feel this way?'" Then he paused and asked, "Looking in the mirror and having it crack in two?"
Instead of clobbering him, I laughed-the kind of laugh that escapes into the air before you can catch it. The kind of chuckle that shows a tiny form of acceptance.
Trevor obviously didn't expect me to find his remark entertaining. He was primed for a fight. We both cracked up and locked eyes. His gaze lingered a little too long, not in a creepy way, but in a way that saysI'm not ready to let this momentgo.