She looked at me skeptically. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because Tootag was a fifth grader and he was fucking huge—he had a beard already.” I shrugged. “And you were crying. I felt bad.”
Her expression softened—slightly. “Well, thank you for the book money, but I’m not eight anymore. I can take care of myself.”
When she turned around like the matter was settled, I changed tactics. “Stop being so selfish.”
She whirled to face me again, her mouth agape. “Selfish!”
“Yeah. Tonight is my night off, you know, and I had plans with my dad. But how am I supposed to enjoy them when all I’d be doing is picturing you shivering beneath an overpass, wishing you’d have listened to me?” I gave her a little performance just for fun. “Gianni . . . Gianni,” I moaned pitifully, “why didn’t I believe you? I’m sorry . . . you were right all along.”
“That is ridiculous.” But her lips were dangerously close to a smile.
“No, it isn’t. And I’d feel terrible. Your parents would never forgive me. In fact, I’d probably lose my job, and soon I’d be poor and homeless. Hot girls wouldn’t go out on dates with me, I’d never have sex again—for fuck’s sake, I might as well join the priesthood at that point. No one would ever taste my cooking again. And it would be all your fault, which is why I will cancel my plans in order to chauffeur your ass safely to Harbor Springs and back.”
“Give me a break. You would never join the priesthood.”
“What if you got a flat tire?” I persisted. “What if you ran out of gas? What if you were driving perfectly safe but someone skidded out of control and hit you?”
She chewed on her lip, and I could see her resolve start to melt.
“It’s safer to go together,” I told her with finality. “You know your dad would feel better if I took you. Go ahead and text him right now. See what he says.”
She didn’t even get her phone out because she knew I was right.
“I’m not asking you to do this,” she said quickly. “Just so we’re clear.”
“I know—it’s a gesture, Ellie. A nice, gentlemanly gesture, like giving you my Scholastic book fair money. Jeez.”
“Sorry. I guess I’m not used to your gentleman routine. And one good deed in twenty-three years doesn’t exactly make up for all the other mean shit you did.”
“Come on. I wasn’t mean, Ellie. I was . . . playful.”
“Playful? You called me a shrimp. You pulled my pigtails. You drew mustaches on my favorite dolls.” Her eyes narrowed. “You pinned me down, sat on my chest, and let drool ooze out of your mouth until it almost hit me before you sucked it back in.”
I laughed. “Fuck, I forgot about that. How about I let you sit on me right now? Can we call it even? I won’t even mind if there’s saliva involved.”
“And let’s not forget the Cherry Festival.”
“Are we still talking about that? Ellie, for fuck’s sake, it was six years ago. We were seventeen. And it’s not my fault you got assigned to the dunk tank—that’s where the reigning Cherry Princess has to sit. And it’s the God-given right of the townspeople to come and dunk their princess.” I could still picture her sitting in that dunk tank in her crown and sash, her smile big, her bikini small. The memory made me warm all over.
“You didn’t have to come back fifty times,” she seethed. “You humiliated me over and over again on purpose. Then instead of using the photo of me from before, when my hair was dry and my makeup was pretty, the newspaper used the one of us from after—I was plastered on the front page looking like a wet raccoon.”
“And I had a face full of whipped cream, since you got back at me for the dunk tank by throwing eight pies in my face.”
“You deserved it. And you got back at me later that night, didn’t you?”
For a moment, we continued to stare at each other, both of transported to a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven played in Tanner Ford’s basement.
That dark room. The door closed. The clock ticking.
“I got back at you? Is that really how you think of it?” I asked her.
She started polishing a wineglass again. “Actually, I don’t think of it at all.”
“Me neither,” I lied.
“It’s ancient history.”
“My point exactly. Maybe as a kid I sometimes did my best to antagonize you, and possibly there were some shenanigans that got out of hand when we were teenagers, but ever since I moved back here, I have been nothing but nice. Can’t you forgive and forget?”