“Yes. That little alien guy eats them.”
“Smart guy.”
Seth sat on the bumper of my car and took a long drink from his soda. His feet were out in front of him, his shoulders hunched a bit. He patted the bumper next to him.
“I don’t know if my car’s bumper can handle our combined weight.”
He patted his flat stomach. “What are you trying to say?”
“No, you’re, I … ”
“I’m joking, Maddie.”
“I know,” I said, but my cheeks still went hot.
He smiled, then stood. “Hold this for a second.” He handed me his big drink and went around to the driver’s side. He began drawing something on my dusty car window.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
His finger moved across the window. “Is Maddie a nickname?” he asked.
“Yes, short for Madeleine, spelled and pronounced the French way.”
“I have no idea how the French spell or pronounce things.”
“It’s spelled L-E-I-N-E at the end but pronounced Lynn versus Line.”
“Ah. I see, very French.”
I laughed. “Why did you want to know?”
“No reason.” He kept drawing or writing or doing whatever it was he was doing on my window that I couldn’t see because it was dark and his body was blocking half of it. “Why is it spelled and pronounced the French way?” he asked.
“My dad traveled a lot before he got married.” Another reason why he was now dissatisfied with his life. He never said as much, but when he talked about his traveling days it was always in reverent awe.
Seth stayed at the window for several more minutes.
“If you take much longer, I will be forced to drink some of your soda,” I threatened.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Really? You don’t seem like the type.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m sure you have some statistic floating around in your head about mono and high schools.”
I laughed. He was sort of right. I did have a thing about germs because I knew how easily spreadable they were. But just to prove him wrong, I resisted the urge to wipe the straw with my sleeve and took a long drink so he wouldn’t think I was uptight. It was Dr Pepper.
He smiled with a short bow of his head as if to acknowledge his mistake, then turned to face me, still not clearing the way for me to look at whatever he’d done to my window. “Well, I better let you get back to your friends.”
“Right. My friends.” I handed him his soda.
“What did they get you?”
“What?”
“For your birthday? What presents did you get for your birthday? Aside from my awesome offering, that is.” He pointed at the candy I still held like it was the most precious gift in the world.
“Oh, um … I’m not sure actually, we haven’t gotten to the gift giving portion of the night.” That was the truth; we hadn’t gotten anywhere close to that. “But I did get a pair of sloth socks earlier.”
He frowned. “Sloth socks? There are socks made out of … sloth fur?”
I laughed. “No. They are regular socks with pictures of sloths on them.”
“But we don’t even have sloths at our zoo.”
“I know,” I said.
“And anteaters are your favorite.”
“I know!”
“Was it supposed to be ironic?”
I shrugged. “Let’s say yes.”
He gave me a half smile. “Right. Well, I’ll see you later, Zoo Maddie.”
I laughed. “Did you just call me Zoo Maddie?”
He bit his lip. “Sorry, sometimes that’s how I refer to you and it just slipped.”
He referred to me in conversations with other people? “Yeah, me too. With you, I mean.”
“Really?” he asked. “You call me Zoo Maddie?”
“Funny, Zoo Seth.”
He smiled. “That is funny that we both call each other that.”
“Probably because that’s the only place we ever see each other.”
“Until now,” Seth pointed out. “The stars have aligned.”
I looked up at the sky like I thought his statement might actually be true, then met his eyes again. “Right. Until now.”
He took a few steps toward his car. “Speaking of the zoo, are you coming to the staff meeting tomorrow?” I nodded as he opened his car door. “Cool. See you then,” he said, getting inside.
I almost wanted to ask him to stay. I could’ve fessed up about my missing friends, but it would just make me sound pathetic and possibly make him feel like he had to entertain me. But there was nothing he could do. He was grounded. It wasn’t like I could beg him to let me in on his movie marathon or make him stand with me in this parking lot for hours.
“Bye,” I said.
“Happy birthday again.” He waved and drove off.
“Yes, happy,” I whispered.
I turned to my car, pausing in front of the window he had spent several minutes on.
Happy birthday, Madeleine, read that like the French men. (I’m trying to rhyme.)
I’ll see you again soon. At that place we call the zoo … n. (Almost worked.)
I laughed. He was such a dork. I climbed into the car. Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad day after all.
I’m sooooooo sorry! I’ll explain everything tomorrow at school! Please don’t hate me!
That was the text from Blaire that I woke up to on Sunday morning. I stared at it for several long minutes, not sure how to respond. It’s okay, didn’t quite work because I had no idea what had happened. And there was still radio silence from Elise.
I decided not to respond. It was my passive-aggressive way of telling her I was still angry and hurt.
I pulled my laptop into bed and spent the morning researching the San Diego State website. After carefully combing through each link, I decided not to send a desperate email about how my acceptance letter might have ended up in the trash. If I was accepted, they would send out their own email a couple weeks after the hard copies were sent. So I was safe still. If I was accepted.
Before long, it was time for the zoo staff meeting. At least that would take my mind off things.
Seth sat in the very back row of chairs that had been set up in the staff room. Carol stood at the front of the room, checking people off as they came in. My instinct was to plop front row, middle, my normal seat in most classes, but Seth smiled my way and I found myself walking to his row. His legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, the picture of relaxation.
“Hey,” I said. The stiff material of the work shirt twisted at my neck as I sat. I tugged the collar.
“You really did get sloth socks,” Seth said, looking at my feet.
I pulled up the cuff of my jeans so he could see them better. “I don’t lie about socks, Seth.”
“That seems like a weird thing not to lie about.”
“If we can’t be honest about the little things, then where are we?” I said, feigning seriousness.
He smiled. “Indeed.”
Our exchange was cut short because Carol called our attention to the front.
“Thanks for coming out, all. I like to have refresher courses like this every so often when things are brought to my attention or when new procedures are introduced.” Carol then went on to review things we already knew. Things we already did.
A black pen sat on the floor beneath the chair in front of Seth. He used his foot to slide it toward him, then picked it up, reached over, and drew something on the back of my hand. When he pulled away, I saw it was a tic-tac-toe board. He’d drawn an X in the center square. He held out the pen for me.
“Are you sure?” I whispered. “I will destroy you.”
He continued to hold the pen in front of me. With a quick glance toward the front to make sure Carol wasn’t looking, I took the pen and filled in the top left square. We went back and forth and ended in a draw.
“Is that how you destroy people?” Seth asked.
I narrowed my eyes at him, then drew a board on the back of his hand, filling in the top right with my O. He studied the board, as if I already had a strategy by not going in the middle spot. He must’ve decided I didn’t, because he went there.