Into the Woods. She adds the grimacing emoji, and I send three of them back. I’m already sick of that play, and we’re still weeks away from performing it. My singing range is microscopic, but I ended up with a lead role anyway because I’m one of the only guys in drama club. Now my throat hurts constantly from all the straining, plus rehearsals are messing with my Until Proven work schedule.
It’s weird, and kind of uncomfortable, to realize you might’ve started outgrowing a thing that used to almost be your whole life. Especially if you’re not sure what else to do with yourself. It’s not like I’m tearing it up at school, or work. My biggest contribution at Until Proven so far is seconding Sandeep’s suggestions for the conference room names. But I like it there. I’d intern more hours if I had the time.
We’re in downtown Bayview before Katie finally hangs up. Kiersten shoots me an apologetic glance as she pulls into a parking lot across the street from Wing Zone. “Sorry we got interrupted by a quote, floral emergency, unquote. Which is not a thing. Who’ve you been texting while I was ignoring you?”
“Maeve,” I say. The battery on my phone is almost dead, so I shut it off and put it back into my pocket.
“Ah, Maeve.” Kiersten sighs nostalgically. “The one that got away.” She pulls into a spot and cuts the engine. “From me, I mean. I was shipping you two hard. I had your couple name picked out and everything. Did I ever tell you that? It was Knaeve.” I groan as I open my door. “But you seem fine. Are you fine? Do you want to talk about it?”
She always asks that, and I never accept. “Of course I’m fine. We broke up a long time ago.”
We exit the car and head for an opening in the parking lot gate. “I know, I know,” Kiersten says. “I just don’t understand why. You guys were perfect for each other!”
It’s times like these that, as great as my sisters are, I kind of wish I had an older brother. Or a close guy friend who liked girls. Maeve and I weren’t perfect, but that’s not a conversation I know how to open up with Kiersten. I don’t know how to open it up with anyone. “We’re better as friends,” I say.
“Well, I think it’s great that…Huh.” Kiersten stops so suddenly that I almost bump into her. “What’s with the crowd? Is it always this busy on a Saturday?”
We’re within sight of the restaurant, and she’s right—the sidewalk is packed. “No, never,” I say, and a guy in front of me turns at my voice. For a second, I don’t recognize him, because I’ve never seen him outside of school. But there’s no mistaking Matthias Schroeder, even out of context. He looks like a scarecrow: tall and thin with baggy clothes, wispy blond hair, and strangely dark eyes. I find myself peering at them too closely, wondering if they’re real or contact lenses. “Hi, Knox,” he says tonelessly. “It’s the chicken.”
“Huh?” I ask. Is he speaking in code? Am I supposed to reply The crow flies at midnight or something? Kiersten waits expectantly, like I’m about to introduce her, but I don’t know what to say. This is Matthias. He got suspended for copycatting Simon Kelleher last fall. We’ve never spoken before. Awkward, right?
Matthias points upward with one long, pale finger. I follow his gaze to Wing Zone’s roof, and then I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner. The inflatable chicken’s red heart necklace is finally gone—and so is its head. Well, it’s probably still there, but somebody’s stuck what looks like the head of the Bayview Wildcat mascot costume onto its neck. Now the whole thing has turned into some kind of freaky oversized cat-chicken, and I can’t look away. I snort but choke back a full-on laugh when I catch Kiersten’s exasperated expression.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she mutters. “Why would someone do that?”
“Yuppie revenge?” I ask, but then immediately reject the idea. The kind of people who complain about an inflatable chicken lowering their real estate values aren’t going to be any happier about this.
“You don’t get it?” Matthias asks. He looks hard at me, and God, that kid is weird. I can practically hear Maeve saying He’s just lonely, which might be true, but it’s also true that he’s weird. Sometimes things are related, is my point.
My stomach growls.