Highly Illogical Behavior(13)

“Boring,” Janis said. “You want to hang out after school?”

“Can’t. I’m helping Clark’s sister with her geometry homework.”

“Is she paying you?”

“Clark’s dad is. Ten bucks an hour.”

“Damn,” Janis said. “I mean, darn.”

Lisa knew helping Solomon would probably put a strain on her friendship with Janis. She knew it would eat up time with Clark, too, not to mention all the hours she needed for studying, working on the yearbook layout, and presiding over Student Council meetings once, sometimes twice, a week. But it was worth it. Some people sign on for the impossible. And they’re the ones everybody remembers.

? ? ?

She’d seen his house before—not because she was stalking him or anything—but because she’d been to a birthday party across the street once as a kid. When she got out of her car, an orange cat darted across the driveway and made her jump a little, almost dropping the cookies she’d baked for Solomon in the process. Yes, she’d baked him cookies.

“Look!” she blurted out nervously as soon as he opened the door, presenting the plastic-wrapped plate with her arms outstretched. “Cookies!”

“Hi,” he said.

He was standing several feet back, but he leaned forward to take the cookies and she got her first good look at him. He was handsome. His dark hair was slicked back to one side and he had big brown eyes—the kind that look a little green sometimes in the right light. He was tall, too, much taller than she’d expected. At least 6’1”. He smiled at her after he spoke, but she could immediately see how unnerved he was by all of this.

“That your cat?” she asked, still standing outside.

“Oh, no. That’s Fred. He’s the neighbors’.”

“Ah. I’m allergic.”

“Same here.” He nodded his head a little.

“Solomon? Am I going to get to come inside?”

“Yeah . . . yeah . . . sorry. God. Come on in.”

He stepped back away from the door and let her enter. Then he used one foot to gently kick it shut, and Lisa wondered if that was as close as he’d get to the outside.

“So . . . umm . . .” Solomon attempted. “I don’t really . . .”

“Give me a tour?” she interrupted. “That’d be a good place to start maybe.”

“Right, right,” he said. “Uh . . . this is the foyer, I guess.”

“It’s lovely,” she said.

He showed her the living room, dining room, kitchen, and den without saying much more. She asked lots of questions though, and he gave the shortest answers he could muster.

“Do you cook much?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“Is that your Xbox?”

“No, it’s my dad’s.”

“Can I see your room?”

“Sure.”

In his room, with its bright white, empty walls, Solomon took a seat on the edge of the bed and watched as Lisa walked around, inspecting his bookshelves and the tchotchkes he had scattered around on his desk. She was trying to be nonchalant, but it was hard to do with him watching her like that.

“You like to read I see.”

“Passes the time.”

“Yeah. I guess it would.”

“Lisa,” he said, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She sat down in his desk chair.

“Why are you here?”

“You know the answer to that,” she said. “To be your friend. But you’re going to have to be a little more talkative to keep up with me.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not really sure what to talk about.”

“You wanna start by explaining these walls? It looks like a hospital room in here.”

He laughed. And when he laughed, Lisa took her first full breath since walking through the door.

“I just like it that way, I guess.”

“Minimalist.”

“Huh?”

“Minimalist,” she repeated. “Very trendy right now, actually.”

“Oh,” he said with a shrug. “Lots of stuff makes me feel closed in.”

“You’d hate my house,” she said. “My mom can’t stand an empty wall. If she had good taste in art, that might be okay. But it’s all roosters and cheap landscapes from Wal-Mart. She had a cow print phase a few years ago that I almost didn’t survive.”

Another laugh. She was definitely sensing that he was starting to appreciate her humor. And he seemed a little less anxious than when she’d arrived. Complete sentences were a good sign.

“I think maybe it’s because I’m inside so much,” he said. “I guess I like the idea of my room seeming endless or something.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I like that. Or maybe you could just imagine whatever you want in here.”

“No,” he said. “That’s what the garage is for.”

“Oh. Okay.”

A few minutes later, as he opened the door that led from the laundry room into the garage, he looked at Lisa with a very serious expression and then let the door slowly open and stood to one side. She stepped through the threshold, and he watched her without saying another word.