The Rest of the Story(28)

I smiled at this, starting up the vacuum again as he dragged the smaller garbage can over to the bag I’d left by the door. For a moment we worked in silence, him emptying another can. Then I said, “Do you work here a lot?”

“I fill in as needed,” he said. “Like everyone else.”

There was a loud crackle, followed by a squeak. Then a girl’s voice said, “Breaker breaker. Who’s got their ears on?”

Roo reached to his back pocket, pulling out a beat-up walkie-talkie. He pushed a button as he put it to his mouth, then said, “You’ve got Rubber Duck and Saylor, go ahead.”

I just looked at him. “Rubber Duck?”

He grinned. “That’s my handle.”

“Your—”

“Roo and who?” the girl’s voice crackled over the handset again.

There was another buzz, followed by a different girl’s voice. “Taylor, it’s the girl you were so awful to yesterday. Did you already forget?”

I must have looked as confused as I felt, because Roo explained, “April and Taylor. They work at the mini-golf places down the block.”

That explained why I’d seen them that morning. “And you guys communicate?”

“The power of the walkie. Works all the way up at the Station.” He grinned, then pushed the button again. “So, yeah, Daffodil. You want to apologize to Saylor now or do it in person later?”

No reply. Finally April said, “Taylor. We can hear you breathing.”

“I’m thinking!” Taylor said.

“I thought they worked at the same place?” I whispered to Roo.

He shook his head. “Nope. Both mini golf, but two different places, right across the street from each other.”

There was another beep, and then I heard a voice say, flatly, “I am sorry for my behavior yesterday. I am working on my jealousy and anger issues and I hope you can accept my apology.”

Roo looked at me, his eyebrows raised. Then, slowly, he pushed the handset’s button, holding it out to me. I leaned toward it, clearing my throat. “I do. Thank you.”

“See?” April said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now we’re one big, happy family again!”

“Which should last for about five seconds,” Roo added into the walkie. “Okay, everyone. Catch you later.”

“Bye, y’all!” Taylor said. She sounded different when she wasn’t so angry.

Roo shoved the handset back into his pocket and glanced around the room. “I should get back to the Station—they’re short-staffed today too. You want me to come back when I’m off? Or you guys got this?”

“You should ask Trinity, but I think we’re okay,” I said as he bent down, picking up a crumpled piece of paper and chucking it in the trash can. “So you guys are all really close, huh?”

He shrugged. “Guess so. Sort of inevitable when there aren’t that many of you.”

“You’re all the same age?”

“Nope,” he replied, picking up the trash bag and shaking it. “Trinity’s the oldest: she’s five years ahead of me. Jack graduated two years ago, and April’s a sophomore at East U. Me, Taylor, Vincent, and Bailey are all seniors this year.”

“Is Jack in school, too?”

He looked at me, surprised. “No. He’s running the Station with his dad. Family business, remember?”

I did. But in Lakeview, everyone at least tried to go to college. Once again, I’d assumed it was the same here. Just like a rich cousin would.

“Okay, so I’m going,” he said. “See you later?”

I had no plans to cross paths with him again that day, as far as I knew. But I still said, “Yeah. See you later.”

Now, it was four thirty, and Trinity and I were on the last room of the day. By my count, we’d been at it six and a half hours, with only a thirty-minute lunch break, when we made and ate quesadillas in Mimi’s kitchen. My arms ached from reaching up to polish mirrors, the smell of bleach was seemingly lodged permanently in my nose, and I understood for the first time the expression “bone tired.” I knew hanging with her to the end would surprise Trinity. What I didn’t expect was that I’d be so proud of myself. Putting things in order, even other people’s things, felt familiar and soothing. Like my anxiety had found a good place to land, too.

“Go all the way out the door,” Trinity instructed me as I cleaned the carpet to the threshold, stepping myself onto the sidewalk outside. “Then unplug and we’re done.”

I yanked out the cord, pulling the vacuum over to my side, and shut the door. “Now what?” I said to Trinity, who was wiping a smudge off the outside of the window.

“We put the cart back, deal with laundry, and fill bleach bottles for tomorrow. Then we get the hell out of here before anyone asks for anything else.”

She led the way back to the door that said STAFF ONLY, opening it. The room inside was narrow, with a row of washers and dryers tumbling the sheets and towels we’d collected earlier. I followed her to a small countertop, lined with spray bottles. All of them were labeled with names, some in recent marker, others faded almost to the point of being unreadable. ESTHER. DAWN. MARIKA. CARMEN. It made me aware, suddenly, that the one she’d given me off the cart said nothing.