I hopped on one foot.
“Matty, Matty, that will do. Matty Matty, go upstairs.”
I jumped higher as the ropes got faster. Grace was in hysterics by now.
“Matty, Matty, say your prayers. Matty, Matty, turn out the light. Matty, Matty, say good night.”
They stopped singing and the ropes swung faster and faster until finally those little brats got me and I tripped up. Grace was laughing so hard, I think she stopped breathing; she looked like a tomato.
The girls clapped along with a small crowd that had collected. I puffed my chest out, huffed on my fingernails, and rubbed them against my shirt. “Not bad, huh?”
“You’re full of surprises,” Grace said, catching her breath.
“And I will be . . . forever.”
“Where did you learn how to do that?”
“I was a camp counselor last summer.”
“Ha! Saint Matthias.”
“Actually, I got fired.”
“Why?”
“You don’t want to know,” I said.
“Actually, I do, especially because you were fired from a job while working with kids. That’s a red flag right there.”
“It was all Clara Rumberger’s fault. She was another counselor. Her mom, Jane, was the director.”
“So, what happened? You got caught messing around with Clara?”
“Not exactly. Jane was the one who kind of had a thing for me.”
“The mom?” Her expression froze.
I nodded, growing more embarrassed by the second.
“What’d you do, Matt?”
“Clara sort of caught me and her mom, um . . . well, in a delicate situation in the camp kitchen after lights-out.”
“Oh. My. God. You pig.” She punched me in the arm. “I can’t believe you were hot after a cougar. So, why’d you get fired?”
“Well, apparently Clara threatened to tell her dad, Jane’s husband, unless I was fired.”
“She was married?”
I held up my hands in a defensive gesture. “She told me they were getting a divorce.”
“Man, Tati would have a field day with you.”
“Which reminds me. What was the deal with you guys earlier?” We headed back to the tree as we talked.
“I don’t know. She’s mad because she thinks I’m giving something up for you.”
I grabbed her hand and swung her around. She looked up at me and then looked away quickly. “Look at me, Grace. Are you giving something up for me?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate.
“I would never want you to feel that way. You said yourself that we’re young, that we should do what we’re meant to do.”
“What’s that?” she whispered.
“I’m not sure, but I know I’m taking the internship, and you should go with Pornsake, if you think you should. You could always go to grad school later.”
“Dan wants to travel for a year and a half, Matt. He has a tour planned. He’s been saving and preparing for a long time.”
“Okay . . .”
“That means you and I wouldn’t see each other for that long.”
The thought made me physically ill. “But if it’s what you think you should do after we graduate, then do it.”
She blinked up at me and then shook her head and looked down. “That’s it? That’s how you feel? ‘Just go ahead, Grace, leave for over a year, and good luck’?”
My heart was pounding out of my chest. “Is your scavenger hunt over?”
“Change the subject much?”
“Let’s get drinks and talk,” I offered.
“Yes, Matt, because we always make such great decisions when we’re drunk.”
“Just come on,” I said. “I have an idea.”
We found a pub and spent the rest of the afternoon there. But instead of talking, we drank away the questions that surrounded our futures . . . that surrounded us. Grace picked ten songs on the jukebox and insisted on staying until each one played. By the time the last one came on, we were well and properly sauced.
“Are you drunk?” I slurred.
“Are you, MatthiUSSSS?”
“I nee’ take you somewhere, ’kay, Gracie?” I pulled her along as we stumbled out onto the street and down to the subway. We were laughing hysterically as we tried to keep our balance without touching the subway poles. The other riders were not amused. We got off downtown and walked a few blocks. “Look,” I said, pointing to City Hall, “we ssshould totally get fuckin’ married righ’ now, Grace! Thass the only thing that’ll make this ALL better.” I grabbed her shoulders and looked her right in the eyes, which were alight with happiness—or maybe it was drunkenness. “Wanna?”
“Thass a grea’ ideeea, Matt.”
I don’t know how but we managed to fill out all the necessary paperwork and fork over the fifty bucks. The justice of the peace, an irritated, short, red-haired woman told us, “You need a witness, and I’ve only got fourteen minutes left on the clock. You’d better hurry.”
“Wait,” I said, “Hold on.” I came back a few minutes later with a homeless man who said his name was Gary Busey. I had to pay him ten bucks.
The ceremony was over in about a minute. I think I said, “I do,” as did Grace, and then we kissed sloppily.
Gary Busey cleared his throat behind us. “Come on you two, get a room.” We hugged him and then ran into the bathroom and washed Gary’s overwhelming salami smell off of our hands. When I came out, Grace was waiting in the hall. I held my hand out. “Mrs. Shore, may I have this dance?”