“I’m sorry.” Kala put a hand on his shoulder, rubbed it.
“It’s all right.” Matt thought back to Cindy’s remark. The only family he had left was a brother in prison, a curmudgeon aunt, and a grandfather who didn’t recognize him.
“I’m starving,” Kala said.
“I told you to go to Lincoln with everybody,” Matt said.
Ganesh and company were getting cabin fever. He’d texted Matt that they needed to go to a real restaurant and a real bar, preferably one without tumbleweeds outside and inbred hicks trying to kill him. It was sweet of Kala to hang back. To make sure Matt wasn’t alone. She was from rural Oklahoma, so he supposed she had a higher tolerance for small towns. Though even Kala was starting to get that cooped-up look about her. Once you lived in Greenwich Village, it was hard to go back. That was why every New Yorker comes across insufferably superior.
Kala said, “I needed a break from everyone. And I wanted to see you—you’ve been gone all day.”
“There aren’t many food options this late,” Matt said.
“You’ll think of something.”
Matt drove the clunker out of the lot, not sure where to go. He could head to Lincoln like the rest of them, but it was already late. He was tired, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d spent the day watching TV and visiting with his aunt.
Kala gazed out the window at nothing. The air was thick. It was already feeling like summer.
“Anything would be great,” she said, still staring outside like she was searching for something on the horizon. “Even that crap fast food you and Ganesh like.”
“You’re really slumming it,” Matt said.
“When in Rome,” Kala replied. It was something she always said, and Matt had picked up the habit of saying or thinking it himself. Funny how you acquire the verbal tics of your friends.
“We could go to Runza,” Matt said. “I think it’s open late.”
“Go to what?”
“You’ve never had a runza?”
She shook her head.
“Oh, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Soon Matt was veering onto the interstate, keeping his distance from the semis barreling down every lane. He punched the gas, concerned the old tank wouldn’t even hit fifty.
Kala gripped the plastic handle that hung over the passenger window as the station wagon rattled and finally picked up speed.
Ten minutes later Matt pointed out the window. “It’s still there.”
Kala glanced at the glowing green-and-yellow sign atop a long pole designed to be visible from the interstate. Matt took the exit loop and pulled into the lot.
“It looks like a McDonald’s, but green,” Kala said.
“I told you not to get excited. Eat here, or get it to go?”
Kala peered into the restaurant. Empty except for a kid in what undoubtedly was a polyester uniform pushing around a mop.
“Definitely let’s get it to go,” she said.
As Matt pulled up to the drive-through speaker, Kala said, “What exactly are they?”
Matt thought about how to describe them. “A runza is like a warm bun filled with beef, onions, and cabbage. It kind of looks like a Hot Pocket. I know it sounds horrible, but it’s actually good.”
A distorted voice came through the speaker. Matt ordered an original runza, fries, and a Coke.
Kala leaned over Matt and called out the window, “Make that two of everything.”
Back on the road, Kala plucked out one of the fries and bit into it. “Is there, like, a park or somewhere we can eat? Anywhere but the motel.”
“My old school isn’t too far away. There used to be outdoor tables.”
“Ooh, I get to see the institution that shaped Matthew Pine.”
“I’ll spare you the suspense: there was no Dead Poets Society.”
Kala sipped through her straw, her eyes twinkling.
* * *
The benches were newer, but in the same place: across from the outdoor basketball court, next to the gym.
Kala examined her runza with curiosity, poking at it with a plastic fork.
Matt picked his up like a burrito and took a bite. The taste took him back in time. He had no specific memory, just a feeling.
Matt scanned the area. The cliché was true that everything looked smaller. The school was a two-story redbrick building. The front was barren, no trees or landscaping, an empty plain of concrete.
The dark sky lit up beyond the building, lightning in the distance. So far away, you couldn’t hear any thunder.