Highly Illogical Behavior(41)

“It’s not like that,” she said.

“It is, though. It is. And you guys would have the right to be disappointed. I want to just say yes, I can go outside and get in that pool, but I can’t yet. I won’t know until tomorrow.”

“I think you’ll be fine,” she said. “I really do.”

“Okay. Here’s an idea. I want you guys there, but you have to promise to swim. Even if I can’t. Maybe that’ll distract my parents from the heartache.”

“Promise,” she said. “I’ll talk to Clark.”

“Awesome.”

“No matter what, you’ll finally get to see those abs in person. They’re majestic.”

“Can I tell you a secret? I’ve been doing crunches for weeks so I won’t be too embarrassed.”

“That’s hilarious. How’s that working for you?”

“I don’t have the muscle,” he said. “He really is from Krypton, isn’t he?”

“Superman would never drive that van,” she said. “Hey, does he ever talk about me?”

“Are you kidding? When is he not talking about you?”

“Be serious,” she said. “I want to know if he talks about me. Good or bad. Just tell me.”

“Lisa, he talks about you all the time. Always good. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just missing the gang, I guess. You down for some company?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said. “We also have a Munchkin tournament to finish.”

“Yes, we do. Clark’s at work, so we’ll be over around five, okay?”

That afternoon, as soon as they pulled into the driveway and got out of Lisa’s car, Solomon swung open the front door wearing a plastic Viking helmet and holding up a toy sword.

“Tonight, we dine in hell!” he yelled as they walked up.

“We must have the wrong house,” Lisa said.

“Prepare to be slaughtered!” Clark yelled, running past her and into the doorway, where he grabbed the sword and pointed it toward her.

“Good luck,” she said. “I brought my A game today, boys. It’s going to be rough.”

“She’s got to go down,” Clark said as she strutted by him.

Halfway into the first game, neither of them had a snowball’s chance in hell of beating her. Three games later, she was still undefeated. When the tournament was finally over, Solomon threw his cards down in fake anger and Clark fell to the floor like she’d stabbed him in the heart.

“Who wants a rematch?” Lisa said maniacally.

“I need a break,” Solomon said. “I thought I really missed you until this bloodbath.”

“What are they teaching you at summer camp?” Clark asked.

“The only thing I learned is that Janis is sort of a bitch and Sloppy Joes are still disgusting.”

“I can’t believe you won’t let me meet her,” Solomon said. “She sounds so . . . fun.”

“I think she hates me,” Clark added.

“Who could hate you?” Solomon asked.

“I know, right?” Clark stood up and walked over to the sliding glass door. He looked out at the backyard and then turned toward Solomon.

“You ready for tomorrow?” he asked.

“Don’t know.”

Solomon got up and walked over to stand beside him. He gazed out at the empty pool, half filled with moonlight and half with darkness. And the only thing he could think about was how useless it was without water—just a weird-shaped concrete hole in the backyard.

“Maybe you should go out there tonight,” Lisa said.

“What? Why?”

“Your parents aren’t home. So that pressure’s off. Maybe we all just walk right outside like it’s nothing.”

“Like it’s nothing?” Solomon asked. “It’s not nothing.”

“I know,” she said. “But we can make it nothing, Sol. Let’s make it nothing.”

She walked over and reached for his hand. For a second, he thought about giving it to her, about letting her drag him out there and getting it over with. Pull it like a Band-Aid, his grandma would say. But he couldn’t.

“Not tonight, Lisa.”

“Tomorrow then,” Clark said, quickly patting Solomon’s right shoulder with one hand. “It’s going to be great, buddy.”

? ? ?

Solomon couldn’t sleep that night. He wished it were like Christmas when he was a kid—that nervous excitement keeping him up in anticipation of a living room full of new toys and gadgets. But it was more like an aching pit in his stomach, a deep, low pain that pulsated all night and constantly reminded him of what the next day would bring.

At three in the morning, he tiptoed down the hallway in just a pair of pajama pants. He stepped into the living room, staring at the sliding glass door like he was staring deep into the void of space, a black hole leading into a world that had been so far out of his reach for so long. He moved closer, close enough to grip the door handle. Close enough to see his breath on the glass. And then he slid it open.

He didn’t move. But the cool early morning breeze swirled around in his face, lifting patches of his shaggy hair, and making him shiver. He wasn’t going to cry or anything. And he didn’t feel anxious or especially loopy, either. He was so close to the outside, but he was still standing, and that helped his breathing even out a bit. His heartbeat was strong, but not frantic like all the other times he’d secretly tried to go out there. All those times he’d never told anyone about. Now it was different, though. He was ready. And the pain in his stomach was starting to go away. So he just went for it.