Thanks for the Trouble - Tommy Wallach Page 0,44

but it doesn’t do a bit of good in the end.”

“Maybe. But I swear if he’s cheating, I’m gonna cut his balls right off. He was my first, you know. That shit’s no joke. Who was your first, Zelda? Some older man, I bet.”

I knew that Zelda would lie, but I was surprised when she fed Alana the same lie she’d fed me. “Quite a bit older. His name was Karl. Sweet in his way, but a little severe.”

Alana put out her fist for a bump. “That’s the way to do it. Mature men for the win, am I right?” Zelda awkwardly returned the fist bump. “What about you, P. Diddy? Who was your first?”

Luckily, my burrito arrived at just that moment, and it was roughly the size of my head, so I was able to stall by taking one of the largest bites ever taken in human history. It was the second time that question had come up today, and though I hadn’t minded telling Zelda the truth, it was different with Alana. She went to my school, and so had the power to spread the word of my virginity far and wide. I held up a finger—Hold on while I chew—and tried to figure out what I was going to say.

“I think Parker is worried about kissing and telling,” Zelda said, coming to my rescue. “But I really don’t care who knows. I was his first. First and only.”

Weirdly, even though it wasn’t true, just the saying of it made it real in some way, almost as if she were promising me something.

“Respect, Santé,” Alana said. “I’m all about saving it for the good ones. If only they would stay good.” She gestured with her burrito, sending beans and rice flying across the table. “By the way, you probably know this already, Zelda, but you’re some kind of miracle worker. You’re like the Miracle Worker.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve saved this boy’s life, girl! Last night was the first time I’ve seen him out since the beginning of high school. It’s like he actively hates being around other human beings. Right after every class is over, he’s out the door. He doesn’t even come to lunch.”

I come to lunch, I wrote. I just eat it in the library.

“Whatever, man. The point is, nobody ever sees you. And it’s not because anyone has a problem with you or anything, the way you seem to think they do. You’re just never there—not even when you are. What’s up with that?”

I looked to Zelda to save me again, but this time she seemed just as interested in my answer as Alana was.

I don’t know, I wrote. I just figured nobody wanted me around.

“Why? Because you can’t talk? No offense, but that’s fucking stupid. Everybody hangs out with Jamie, and he’s a total dick. We all wish that guy wouldn’t talk. And Erik Jones spends every single party burping out Katy Perry songs and then throwing up in the bathroom, but nobody has a problem with him. You’re cool, Santé. You’re smart and shit. Even if you suck ass at chess.”

I wasn’t used to hearing people say nice things about me. I felt like I should be smiling, but I’d lost control over my face.

Thanks, I wrote.

“Hey, I just got an incredible idea!” Alana said.

“What’s that?” Zelda asked.

“How about you guys go to the movie theater where Tyler works? You could check to see if there’s any funny business going on.”

I’m not sure that’s smart.

“It is, though,” Alana said. “I just said so. ‘An incredible idea,’ is how I described it. Did you miss that?”

I was readying more objections when Zelda piped in. “We’ll do it.”

“Really? You’re the best!” Alana hugged Zelda across the table. “This is gonna be so much fun. You’ll be like superspies.”

We finished our burritos and paid up, but before we left BrainWash, Alana insisted we check out the laundromat.

“It’s, like, the weirdest place ever,” she said.

We followed her through the doorway and into the pungent funk of cleaning agents and damp fabric. There was a kind of loud silence, as all ambient sound was buried beneath the hot hum of the spinning dryers and the tidal sploosh of wet balls of clothes turning over again and again in the washing machines. They were the square kind with round windows in the front, so if you stood back, you could almost imagine you were looking into the windows of an apartment building, the residents of which came