“Oh yeah,” she says. “You were the Grand Supreme spelling champion three times in a row! Plus, you’re really pretty, so every time I see you, like that time in Jason’s hospital room, I remember. I like your braids. Are you popular in high school?”
I’m not sure how any of those things are related, and I shoot Marcus a look for help. “Thanks, and I guess?”
“Oh, she’s popular,” Marcus says with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Sweet,” she says. “I really need someone to…” She trails off as she squints at her phone. Then she tucks it into her pink purse and resumes the conversation. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m so glad you’re here and you’re normal because Marcus is not.”
“Here or normal?” I ask, teasing.
“I wish I wasn’t here,” he says with a half-embarrassed groan.
“I wish he was normal.” Marcus’s sister sighs deeply. “I’ve been worried because obviously I’m starting high school, like, tomorrow…”
“You are?” I say, trying to do the math. If she’s ten…
“Okay, not tomorrow, but I have to start planning, you know?” she says solemnly. “I know what happens to kids who aren’t popular. They get stuffed in lockers and their head gets flushed down a toilet.”
“How many times have I told you that movies are not real life?” Marcus says, but she ignores him.
“I obviously need to be preparing, so I asked Marcus but he said he doesn’t know what’s cool for girls to wear. If I turned up at school dressed like him, I think I woulddie.”
I laugh. She just might be the spunkiest ten-year-old I’ve ever met.
“Oh, absolutely.” I lean forward, enjoying playing along. “The other day he wore a beanie to school.”
“No!” she gasps. “I’d die.”
We hear the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house.
“You should give me your number so we can touch base,” Joey says.
“Touch base?” I say, trying not to laugh. I’m concerned about her cultural references.
“No,” Marcus says before either of us can move. “Nope. No exchanging numbers.”
“Why?” She sulks. “If this is about my phone bill from last month, I told Dad I was sorry, and he’s already punishing me by making me eat a banana every morning.”
“No, it’s about your incessant need to talk innocent people’s ears off.”
Joey looks chastened as she heads to the front door.
“Don’t worry. We’ll keep in touch,” I promise her before she leaves.
“Text when you get there safe,” Marcus calls out.
“It’s five minutes away!” she protests.
“Great. So I’ll expect a text in five minutes.” Joey glares at her brother. “Four minutes and fifty seconds.”
“Aaargh,” she says, then squeals as her friend runs at her. Their high-pitched excited voices drift toward us before Joey yells one last “Bye, Marcus!” and then the front door slams shut.
“Wow,” I say.
“Obviously, you don’t really have to keep in touch,” Marcussays before I have the chance to say anything else. “Thanks for seeming so into everything she was saying.”
“Iwasinto everything she was saying. She’s feisty.”
Marcus gives me a wary look, and then he seems to relax. “She has a hard time at school because, as you can tell, she’s a little intense, and ten-year-olds are brutal.”
