They walked in silence for a time. Half a block, the long way.
Raymond was having that problem again. Too much awareness of his own physical self. First he hooked his thumbs into his backpack straps. But he could feel his elbows sticking out too far. Then he let go and shoved his hands deep into his jeans pockets. But they still stuck out. Even when he walked with his hands at his sides, he could not stop being aware of his elbows. No matter what they were doing, it never felt like the right thing.
Worse yet, he wanted to say something to Andre on this last day. Something simple. I’ll miss you when you move. But he just couldn’t force it out.
Finally he took a big, deep breath and forced out the word “I . . .” He figured once he’d said that much, he’d have no choice but to finish. “。 . . wish you didn’t have to go to California.”
“You and me both,” Andre said.
Raymond looked down at his friend as they walked. He was so much smaller than Raymond, but in more ways than just height. He was more compact, with finer features. He looked like all his parts fit together correctly, and each part knew exactly what to do at all times. He was more athletic. His skin was darker. Andre was all one thing, in a number of different ways. He fit with himself. Raymond envied that.
He quickly looked away again.
They drew level with the abandoned building at the end of the block.
“Nope,” Andre said. “No way, man. We’re late.”
“I just have a little thing of tuna. I was just gonna leave it.”
“Leave it on the way home. He won’t die.”
“I think she’s a she. Actually.”
“Okay. She won’t die.”
“But she’ll be hungry.”
“She was a lot hungrier before she met you.”
“Yeah,” Raymond said. “I guess that’s true. Besides, it does take me a while to get her to come to me. I could just leave it, though.”
“And then what if some other cat gets it? Or the rats and mice?”
“I guess. Yeah.”
But he couldn’t help looking over his shoulder. All the way across the street. Until they turned a corner and the building fell out of sight.
“Just think,” Andre said. “If you hadn’t bought the tuna, you’d be able to buy a school lunch.”
“Not really. Tuna’s cheaper.”
“Still. What happened to that money your real dad gave you?”
“Spent it.”
“On tuna?”
“No. Well. Partly. Well. Yeah. Pretty much.”
They walked home from school together. Slowly. Slower than they had ever walked before. At times Raymond thought it might be slower than anyone had ever walked before—that they were setting some kind of new world record. Gold medal in the mosey division.
Neither commented on why. Then again, they didn’t need to.
As they pulled level with the abandoned building, both knowing it was Raymond’s jumping-off place, they had to slow even more. And the only way to do that was to stop. So that’s what they did.
“I know you wanna . . . ,” Andre said. He didn’t finish, or mention the cat. It went without saying.
“Right,” Raymond said, realizing he was in prison. That his inability to express what he was feeling had formed such a tight and inescapable box around his being that he could barely breathe. It wasn’t a complete surprise. But the walls were definitely closing in. “Well,” he added, still in no way equipped for a jailbreak.
“See ya,” Andre said.
“Yeah,” Raymond said. “Except . . . no. That’s the whole thing. You won’t.”
“No, I will, man. It’s all good. I’ll Skype you.”
“Oh. Skype. Right. Okay. That’s true.”
“So, no big goodbyes. Just . . .”
“Skype to you soon,” Raymond said.
His friend offered a little half wave, half salute and turned for home—a building less than a block past Raymond’s. A place that would only continue to be Andre’s home for less than another twenty-four hours.
Raymond stood perfectly still on the sidewalk and watched him go, and his self-awareness—or maybe better to call it self-consciousness—ran out of control. He could feel the set of every muscle in his face, and not one muscle felt natural. He seemed to be leaning forward too far, as if the top half of him were staging some mutiny in which it attempted to follow Andre down the street without the rest of him. Even his cheekbones seemed to have something to say, though Raymond could not imagine what that might be.