Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 94897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“I don’t want nothin’,” Mal mumbled, not meeting Jag’s eyes.
“I didn’t ask,” Jagger replied. “Let’s go.”
There was more belligerence in it when Mal turned fully to him and snapped, “I told you, don’t want nothin’.”
“Ass to a stool, I’m making you a malt.”
“I don’t got money for a malt,” Mal retorted.
“I’m buying,” Jag offered.
“That’d be awesome, if I wanted something. But…I…do…not.”
“So sit with me while I have a cherry Coke.”
With that, Mal lost it.
“Why can’t you just fuck off?” he bit.
And Jag immediately leaned over him, it was threatening, and he meant it to be, but it was the wrong call.
Mal lurched back into the seat, his eyes widening in fear.
Okay, where did that response come from?
Jag eased back an inch physically as well as with his attitude and again modulated his voice when he said, “I give a shit. I was at work, Arch texted, and I jumped on my bike to listen to what you might have to say. You don’t have anything to say, all right. But I’m havin’ a cherry Coke and I’m makin’ you a malt or whatever you want and we’re gonna just be. But we’re doing it together. You with a guy who cares and me there to listen if you decide to talk. So, will you go to the soda fountain with me?”
Mal took a minute with that before he nodded.
Jagger straightened, and Mal slithered out of the chair.
They walked together to the fountain, or Jagger walked, Mal slunk.
He didn’t miss Archie watching them, Joany standing beside her.
Archie looked worried. Joany looked irritated (and worried).
They were part of Mal’s village.
And so was Fabe.
Mal just needed to get that.
That and the fact that you didn’t shit in your village.
“Hop up,” he muttered when they got to the fountain.
Mal hoisted himself up on a stool.
Jagger went behind the counter. “What do you want?”
“Chocolate shake, made with syrup, not chocolate ice cream.”
That was specific for a kid who didn’t want anything.
Jag didn’t comment on that.
He put his hands to his hips and stared at the stuff behind the counter, primarily the old-fashioned three-rod shake machine, then he looked at Mal. “Do you know how to work any of this shit?”
Mal stared at him open mouthed a second, then he cracked a smile.
Okay, the smile was good.
But Jag didn’t comment on that either.
Out of nowhere, Archie ordered, “Sit down, you goof, I’ll make your stuff.”
Jag watched Mal clam up completely in the face of Archie.
He then gave her a look.
She mouthed, “I’ll hurry.”
Jag rounded the counter, sliding a finger across her hip as he did, then rested his ass on a stool by Mal’s.
She didn’t lie. She hurried.
Mal avoided watching her.
It wasn’t that long ago Jag had been Mal’s age so he knew what was going on with this.
He was crushing, huge.
So much, whatever was fucking with his head had come out in an ugly way, a way that he’d disappointed her, and now he was embarrassed he’d acted like a dick.
When Jag had his cherry Coke, Mal had his shake, and Arch had taken off, he let Mal have a couple of swallows before he admitted, “All right, kid, I lied.”
Mal looked up at him.
“You’re gonna get a lecture, a short one, but an important one,” Jag went on.
Mal’s face started screwing up.
Jag was quick about saying what he had to say before the boy said something he’d regret.
“Fabe’s a cool guy. We both know that. What is not cool is you talking trash to him. And I’ll just say that’s to him or about him if he’s not around. He is who he is and how he is and that’s none of your business, outside how he treats you. And I know he’s cool with you. So there’s not one single reason for you not to be cool with him. Are we on the same page with that?”
Mal looked guilty and hid it by turning away and slurping up more ice cream.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jag said, lifting the glass and taking a sip (and Archie had bona-fide Coca-Cola glasses, with the bulbous top and the narrow base).
Shit.
Fountain cherry Coke made with two syrups and seltzer just couldn’t be beat.
They sat in silence.
They sat in silence longer.
Mal made those slurping noises that meant his shake was gone.
And they sat in silence after that.
Jag had hoped the kid would open up, but it seemed he wasn’t going to.
He still gave him more time before he got off his stool, grabbed both their glasses and headed behind the counter to put them in the bus bin.
He then positioned himself opposite Mal at the counter and leaned into his forearms to get eye-to-eye with the boy.
When they locked gazes, Jag spoke.
“Right, I gotta get back to work, Mal. It’d be groovy you worked on your homework a little. And when Fabe gets back with his smoothie, it’d be cool you said words to make amends. That’s up to you. But from here on in, your day fucks with your head, you need someone to sit with and just be, you tell Arch to call me. I’ll be here.”