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When he got back to the door, Jem seemed to have trouble meeting his eyes. “So, um, Theo, listen, one thing before we go: whatever the guys tell you, they’re full of shit. I did not say I had a crush on your beard.”
That seemed to require a response, but the best Theo could do was nod. It must have been enough because Jem relaxed, beamed at him, and led the way to the car.
Theo ended up in the back seat of the GTO. North had the top down, and although the day was hot, and the damp, heavy air crowded them like a living thing, once they started driving and the wind picked up, it felt surprisingly good. Theo hadn’t realized how much he needed the fresh air. He looked over. Auggie’s face was still creased with a tiny smile, his short hair rustling in the wind. When he noticed Theo noticing, his smile opened a little wider, and he turned his body to lean against Theo.
It was later than Theo had realized, closing in on eight, and when North pulled into the Cock of the Walk parking lot, it was almost empty. Emery’s minivan was there, and John-Henry’s Mustang. The smell of deep fryers mixed with car exhaust and something fresh and light, whatever North used to clean the inside of the GTO.
“Seriously?” Theo asked. “Cock of the Walk? I haven’t been here in forever.”
“The squirt picked it,” North said as they got out of the car. “If you’ve got a fucking problem, take it up with him.”
North and Jem started toward the restaurant. Theo opened his mouth to call North back.
Auggie’s hand caught his and squeezed once.
“I’m going to say something,” Theo said. “He can’t talk to you like that.”
“Theo, he’s just giving me crap. Believe it or not, he says that kind of stuff because he likes me. Swap all the stuff about me being short for jokes about butt stuff, and you’ve basically got Fer.”
“I’m familiar with the idea of guys giving each other grief, Auggie, believe it or not. I don’t like him talking to you like that. He takes it too far, and he’s being an asshole.”
Somehow, Auggie was still smiling, and Theo remembered, for a moment, what he had looked like only minutes before: the wraith at the end of the hall, the darkness where his eyes should have been, that horror superimposed on the man in front of him, the one Theo loved.
“Well, yeah,” Auggie said, the smile growing again. Lopsided, Theo saw. Because his damaged cheek wouldn’t respond, not fully. “Have you met North?”
Theo didn’t have an answer for that, so he let Auggie lead him inside.
Emery and John-Henry had taken a table at the back with Shaw and Tean. John-Henry gave them a nod and a smile; Shaw knelt on one of the benches and waved with both hands. He was, for whatever reason, wearing a fuzzy shirt that Theo immediately thought of—and could only think of—as a Muppet pelt. Evie and Lana were running in circles, and although Lana squealed, “Daddy!” when she saw them, she didn’t break away from her game with Evie.
“So much for absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Theo muttered.
Auggie laughed quietly and leaned into him again.
The other men joined them, and they lined up at the register to place their orders. Somehow North got Auggie in a headlock, and after Theo fought down his initial, knee-jerk reaction to stop them, to insist that Auggie stay where he was, where Theo could keep an eye on him, he was able to let North haul Auggie away, where they immediately fell into a conversation with Jem and Shaw. Tean and Emery were talking about something, and John-Henry got in line to order.
For the first time in what felt like years, a weight lifted off Theo. A rush went through him, his eyes stinging, and he forced himself to take deep breaths, to focus on this moment. The inside of the restaurant was fragrant with fried chicken and hot biscuits. Music played softly in the background. Kacey Musgraves, “Rainbow.” Theo was only able to name the song because John-Henry had turned Auggie on to it, and then the song had played nonstop in Theo and Auggie’s house for a week. Auggie and Lana even had a dance for it, a slow, silly waltz: Auggie holding Lana with one arm, his other hand clasped with hers as they spun around the living room.
“Sir?” The girl behind the counter wore braces and pigtails, and Theo vaguely remembered seeing her at school, although he thought—hoped—he’d never had her in class. He realized that somehow he’d lost track of time, and now he was the last one left; the others had made their way back to the tables at the back. In fact, when Theo checked, North was trying to smack Auggie in the head with an empty cup, while Auggie ducked and laughed.
“What would you like, sir?”
The question registered at the periphery of Theo’s awareness, and the answer went through him: his skin tightening, goose bumps breaking out, the feeling like white waters were racing through him, like his body weighed nothing, like his spirit or his soul or his mind was a doorway for something vast that came and went, and in its wake, he was different.
“Sir?” the girl asked again.
Somehow, Theo managed to order. He paid. He took his receipt and clutched it because he couldn’t feel his fingers. Couldn’t feel anything, really, below the cloudiness in his head. Instead of making his way back to the tables, where Shaw was finger-combing Emery’s hair and Emery kept jerking away and snapping at him, he stayed near the counter and waited for the food. Because, if he were being honest, he thought his legs were going to fold.
The same girl brought two trays to the counter and, when Theo started to reach for them, called out a number. The way she looked at him managed to penetrate some of the fog in his brain, and he realized it wasn’t his order.
John-Henry clapped him on the shoulder. “Everything ok?”
“What? Oh, yeah. Just waiting for the food.”
His smile was gentle. “You can wait with us, you know. This place isn’t that big.”
“Right,” Theo said. He even managed a laugh.
North was shouting at Jem, and Jem was grinning as he tossed a phone to Emery—presumably, North’s phone. North spun toward Emery, but to Theo’s distant surprise, Emery only grinned and did a slick, behind-the-back pass to Auggie, who in turn did a little jump and an overhand shot to Shaw, who—because he was Shaw—immediately shoved the phone down the front of his shorts.
