coffee before stumbling off to work. This morning and every other morning that week, his dad left late, after his mom, without making breakfast or any noise at all except the front door slamming behind him.
Liam stared at the sunspots on the wall and enjoyed the silence. Then he picked up his phone and texted Shy.
Hi.
She texted back right away.
wtf mr streko hates me now—went to his office to get chocolate b4 2nd period like always and he said I’m not a vending machine and shut the door in my face. wat a cunt.
We don’t use that word here, like ever
not sure i even want to be on his cunty table tennis team
Hey are you free later or are you babysitting again?
those people are weird. i got a surprise for us—meet me after school?
They walked from school to the playground on Congress Street. Shy sat on a bench and pulled off her gray fleece jacket. She wore a black jumpsuit with the name MARK sewn in green script on the chest pocket. Her long, thin legs looked less gawky beneath the loose, thick material.
“Nice to meet you, Mark.” Liam held out his hand.
Shy gave him the finger. “Hey, look at the sun.”
The days were getting shorter. Already the sun was sinking and the sky had begun to pinken.
“Pretty,” Liam said.
Shy handed him a chocolate-chip cookie. “Eat that. I’m already almost finished with mine.”
Liam shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “Did you make them?” he asked as he chewed.
Shy laughed. Her blond hair was pinkening too. “No, I took them out of the fridge at the people’s house where I babysat. The kid told me not to touch them. I’ve been hiding them in our freezer ever since. They’re pot cookies. Smell.”
She held out the last bite of hers and Liam took a whiff. The cookie smelled like chocolate with an underlayer of skunk.
“What’s it going to do to us?” That time they’d tried his mom’s pot, Liam could barely walk.
“I don’t know. Eating it is probably different from smoking it, and this is different pot. Come on.” Shy jumped to her feet, popped the rest of the cookie into her mouth, and led him over to the swings.
“I have a calculus test tomorrow,” Liam complained.
“I’ll help you study,” she joked. Shy was so behind in math she’d probably never take calculus. She pumped her legs and swung back and forth, looking cute and spidery in her black jumpsuit and Gucci sneakers.
Liam tried to relax. Why was he thinking about calculus?
He sat down on the swing next to hers and kicked it back and forth. “Fifteen minutes and then I better head home to study.”
Shy twirled her swing around and around so the two chains it hung from twisted. Then she let it unwind, spinning fast and violently, her pinkish-blond hair flying out around her head. “In fifteen minutes you won’t want to go anywhere.”
Liam kicked at the ground some more. “Have you done this before?”
“No,” she said simply. “But the dad is famous. I don’t think his stuff is weak.”
* * *
Peaches had gone home to shower and change the minute school got out. She’d emailed Greg and Liam to tell them she wouldn’t be home for dinner. Texting was too immediate. Whenever she didn’t want her family members to hear about something right away but wanted them to know she’d made the effort to keep them informed, she sent an email. Greg wouldn’t be home until seven. By then she’d be naked in bed with Stuart Little or eating canapés with Mandy and Stuart and Ted. What did one wear to sleep with a man she’d just kissed, or alternatively, eat dinner with his wife and child? Were her V-neck maroon sweater dress and knee-high boots too un-nurse-like? Fuck it. She left the house again before she could change her mind. What should she bring? Flowers? No, flowers were in poor taste if Mandy was sick and wasn’t ever getting better. Wine seemed like a worse idea. Peaches kissed people who were not her husband when she drank alcohol. She’d bring dessert, a key lime pie.
Never before had she felt this nervous. Her hands shook as she passed a twenty to the checkout guy at Union Market.
“Do you need a bag, ma’am?”
“Mmm?” Her mind kept wandering. What was the purpose of this dinner exactly? To normalize their relationship, she assured herself. Whatever that meant. Should she have gotten a healthier dessert? Clementines? Raspberry sorbet? Did Mandy know? She