know how to paint,” I said, “I’m sure we can find you a job rinsing brushes.”
“I love to paint,” Dre said. “My style is sort of what it’d look like if a cubist was beaten to death by an impressionist.”
Cora cut us off. “Splendid. Find Kenny in house three-oh-three down the road, and he’ll get you set up with paint and brushes and whatever else you need.” Without waiting for us to respond, Cora walked away, muttering to herself, “This is not worth the extra-credit points.”
As soon as Cora was out of earshot, I turned to Dre. “Too much coffee this morning?”
“Not enough sleep. Did I take it too far?”
“You were joking?”
Dre’s eyes went a little wide. “Weren’t you?”
Words spilled out, and I stumbled over them. “You were so mean, and I didn’t know what to think.”
“I was just playing for the cameras.” He hiked his thumb over his shoulder. “And I was scared.”
“What were you scared of?”
Dre shrugged. “That things wouldn’t be like they were on Promethean.”
I was relieved but also confused. I didn’t know whether I believed Dre was kidding. I wanted it to be true, but even with our conversations on Promethean, I still didn’t know him that well. “We should find Kenny.” I took off in the direction Cora had pointed.
The worksite was a street of houses; ten in all. The ones farthest from us were mostly built, with the ones nearest little more than a frame. Volunteers scurried over the houses doing the work they were assigned, and the sun was already beating down on me, making me sweat.
Dre walked behind me, and I wished I could think of something to say. This wasn’t going the way I had planned, and I wanted the day to be over even though it had hardly begun. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a message from Dre.
DreOfTheDead: im sorry
DreOfTheDead: i guess i got carried away
DreOfTheDead: im really glad im here
I stared at the messages for a second and then put my phone away. “I’m glad you’re here too,” I said loudly enough for him to hear.
Dre caught up to me, and he was beaming when I glanced at him. “I can’t believe you pulled this off. I never would’ve thought of doing something like this. My plan would’ve involved a large box, packing peanuts, and a lot of stamps.”
The thought of Dre shipping himself across the country made me laugh. “That definitely seems like something you would do.”
“Right?”
“Did you have any trouble with your parents?” I asked.
Dre shook his head. “They loved the idea of me volunteering but kept asking me if I was sure I could handle spending the whole day with you. I think they were afraid you’d strangle me.”
“My parents were also worried I’d strangle you.”
“That’s fair.”
The longer we walked, the more we fell into the rhythm we’d established on Promethean, proving that our conversations could translate into the real world. At least for a short while. But there was one thing I still needed to know.
“Do you really think I’m dressed badly or was that part of your plan to throw off the reporters?” I heard myself ask, and hated how pathetic I sounded. Dre didn’t need anyone’s approval, so why did I?
Dre pulled me to a stop alongside him. He eyed me up and down like he was scrutinizing everything about me. Finally, he said, “You know you’re good-looking, but—”
“But?”
“What you wear says a lot about who you are.”
“What do my clothes say?”
“My client is not guilty, Your Honor.”
“I object!”
“All I’m saying is that it looks like you bought your outfits right off the mannequins at the Gap.” Dre made a grab for the bottom of my shirt, but I stopped him. “What are you doing?”
“Relax.”
I wasn’t worried about him—I was concerned about a reporter snapping a picture at the wrong moment and taking it out of context—but I didn’t see anyone around, so I let Dre do what he wanted. He pulled the bottom of my shirt out until it was completely untucked. He stood back to look at what he’d done, then reached up and ruffled my hair, appraising it with one eye until he was satisfied.
“Better?”
“You don’t look like your mom dressed you anymore.”
“My mom didn’t dress me,” I said. “I dressed myself.”
Dre let out a laugh. “That’s even worse.”
“I guess,” I said. “But if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had anything to fix.”
The laughter on Dre’s face vanished like it had never been there in the first