The Mall - Megan McCafferty Page 0,72

I observed during those hours in the chair at Worthy Orthodontics and Pediatric Dentistry, and what I learned was this: I’d never understand why their business partnership functioned better than their marriage. But I’d always remember them—after they divorced and long afterward—working harmoniously and happily together, making two new teeth that were just imperfect enough to look like they belonged in their only child’s mouth.

I pulled the Volvo into the upper-level parking area. No one—in all my non-driving years—had ever thought to drop me off here between Macy’s and Sears. Entrance four was the only one that didn’t go through a major department store, but directly onto a short corridor leading to Concourse E. If you didn’t know it existed, it could be easily missed. And yet, judging by the difficulty in finding a decent space, it was the preferred entrance to a whole crowd of shoppers who would never understand why anyone parked anywhere else …

“Stop stalling.”

The Drea in my head was right. My first solo drive to the mall had gone smoothly, but now I was definitely stalling. Stores closed in three hours, and I had a lot to accomplish in that time. I needed to get out of the car to make amends while I still could. I made an actual checklist because writing it down made me more accountable.

JACKET

CHEST

MIXED

TREASURE

Again, I’d called upon my Odyssey of the Mind training, by putting the easiest to-dos first. By making small, but measurable progress, I’d hopefully gain the confidence I’d need to face the final trial, the most perplexing, vexing challenge of them all.

45

JACKET

The arcade was slow at this hour. Preteens, for whom the mall was de facto summer camp, had hopped on their bicycles and were pedaling home for dinner. The slightly older nighttime gamers were due to arrive in another hour or so, after finishing up their morning-into-afternoon shifts at Foot Locker or Ponderosa Steak & Ale.

Sonny Sexton would be there because he was always there, from opening to closing. It didn’t take me long to find him, crouched in front of the coin slot of a game called Double Dragon. He was wearing a checkered flannel shirt to keep warm in the cranked-up AC. I not only reneged on my promise to return the jacket within twenty-four hours—I hadn’t bothered returning it at all. For days afterward, a flowery hint of pomade exuded from the dingy denim. The jacket had become so inextricably linked to Sam that I’d pretty much forgotten why I’d borrowed it in the first place.

I’d kept it way longer than the lavender scent had lingered.

I’d kept it long enough to convince myself I had only imagined the traces of Sam Goody left behind.

“Hey,” I said.

He stood, leaned against the machine.

“Heyyyy.”

I held out the jacket by the sleeves. Without saying anything, Sonny removed his flannel shirt and knotted it around this waist. He slipped one arm in the denim, followed by the other.

“Ahhhhh…” He sighed as if he’d submerged himself in a warm bubble bath.

“I’m sorry for breaking my promise,” I said. “I should have returned it sooner.”

“A good girl like you?” He was smiling. “I knew you’d bring it back to me eventually.”

“I’m not good,” I replied. “It’s recently come to my attention that I’m a selfish asshole.”

“Well,” said a soft, female voice, “too much time around Troy will do that to a person.”

Even after I laid eyes on the tiny girl with the teased hair in the Casino Pier T-shirt, it still took a few seconds to connect the vision to the voice. I’d never heard Helen communicate at any level lower than a full-throated screech. I couldn’t hide my terror.

“I come in peace,” Helen said, showing her palms. “I owe you an apology.”

“You do?” I asked timidly.

“I wasn’t right in the head for a while.”

“Too much time around Troy will do that to a person.”

Helen rewarded me with a soft chuckle I didn’t earn for lazily recycling her joke.

“My court-appointed therapist says I have anger management issues,” Helen explained.

From behind her, Sonny flashed me a warning look: Don’t ask. So as curious as I was about her legal troubles, I kept my questions to myself.

“Anyways,” Helen went on, “after I called her Dr. Douchenozzle and chucked an ashtray at her head, I realized she might have a point.”

Sonny opened his arms as an invitation for her to fold her body against his in a totally unsexual way.

“She’s made a lot of progress already,” he said. “Her parents and I are so