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Even days later, when I peer at the calendar and realize it’s just one fucking week until the Spruce Ball.
In my last-minute desperation, I finally suck it up and drive out to his house. I come right around the house to the back door—not the front, since no one who means anything or isn’t a solicitor or Girl Scout Cookie Pusher comes to the front door—and I knock until Mrs. Parker’s sweet face is hovering in front of mine. She has this pained grimace on her face that breaks my heart when she says, “I’m sorry, Jimmy, sweetheart, but Bobby just isn’t feeling well and isn’t up for visitors.”
“Please,” I beg her. “I’m his best friend. I’m not just a visitor. Bobby!” I call, peeking around her and into the house, for a second foregoing my manners in an act of desperation. “C’mon, man! I said I’m sorry! Bobby, just come talk to me!”
She comes out of the house and closes the door behind her. “I know you care about him, Jimmy. You love him more than anyone else in all of Spruce. I know you do. But—”
“You’re darned right I do!” Then I remember my manners. “I mean, y-yes, I do, Mrs. Parker, ma’am,” I add more meekly.
“He’s hurt about losing his job, but he’s also … confused about his … you know …” She leans in and, in a scandalous whisper, adds: “about his feelings for you.”
“Confused?” I stare at her, worried. “How is he confused?”
“You’ve got to give him some time, sweetie.”
“This isn’t fair. This is all that f—” I swallow a curse word. My mama raised me right. “This is all Anthony Myers’ fault. Did you know he’s been mean to Bobby all summer at that movie theater? And then he goes and starts a fight with me in the lobby, and I’m up to here with that moron, and then—”
“Jimmy.” She puts her hands on my shoulders. “I don’t blame you one bit for standin’ up for my boy. I don’t. You’re so brave and … valorous. I just think …” Then comes the pained grimace again. “Perhaps this time it just went a step too far.”
“A step too far?”
“Just give him time, Jimmy. He needs time.”
For a second, I’m fighting tears. Then another bolt of rage runs up to my head, causing me to consider literally racing around to his window and banging on it. Then I feel defeated and sad and wanting to drop on the dusty ground.
I close my eyes, take a breath, then slowly nod.
Mrs. Parker’s arms envelop me. “You’re a good boy, Jimmy Strong,” she says as she hugs me. “You’re a good, good boy.”
And that’s how I leave Bobby Parker’s house, being sweetly consoled by his mama to the sound of their cat Delilah meowing from between her legs, watching me with giant, curious eyes.
I spend the afternoon in the arcade playing Mortal Kombat II for hours trying to reclaim my high score, once again, from some “T-BOY” kid who keeps proving himself better than me.
Another hour later, I’m back home, sulking on my living room couch with the TV playing who-the-fuck-knows while I just stare ahead at the fireplace we use one month out of the year.
I don’t know what to do with myself.
Maybe I should just take his mama’s advice and give him time.
“You alright, bro?”
The question comes from my brother, who’s come into the main house for some reason or another. I don’t even answer him, my arms folded, my body sunk halfway into the couch, my ratty red-and-white hat sitting so low on my forehead, the thing covers half of my face.
He sits on the couch next to me. I feel his arm come around my back, where he starts to pat and rub my shoulder.
“Heard what happened at the theater a few days ago.”
I sigh. “It was over a week ago.”
“Everyone’s talkin’ about it.”
“Let them talk. I don’t care.”
“Did you really punch Anthony Myers in the face so hard, he lost three teeth?”
I roll my eyes. “Sounds like the Spruce Game Of Telephone is already expert-level this summer. You just believe what you want to about what I did or didn’t do to Anthony fuckin’ Myers.”
“I heard it was over a fight about Jazzy. You still into her?”
My face wrinkles right up. I stare at my brother hard. “What the fuck kind of rumors you listenin’ to lately?”
“The kind I get from my colleagues at the school. And Coach Larry, who’s worse about gossip than our own mama.”
“He won’t talk to me.”
Tanner lifts an eyebrow my way. It takes him a second or two to realize who I’m talking about. “Bobby?”
“I got him fired. All because of my stupid temper, and the way Anthony was lookin’ at me, and all the shit Bobby’s probably had to put up with … all on account of a stupid grudge Anthony’s got with me, apparently.” I huff and cross my arms even tighter across my chest. “I just feel so …”
