In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(79)

“Hey,” I say, and Leo’s rapid-fire speech jolts me to awareness. He wants to take me up on my offer to teach him to fight on Friday, if I don’t have plans. He says that part like since it’s Friday night I must be going out or something, but where the hell does he think I’d go around here? We can’t do it in my apartment because there’s no room, and we certainly can’t do it where anyone would see. “Hold on,” I tell Leo.

“Hey, Rex,” I say, looking up at him. “Um, would it be okay if I have Leo come to your house on Friday night and we use your yard?”

“Who is Leo?” Rex asks, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“I didn’t tell you about Leo?” I push the phone against my chest to muffle it. Rex shakes his head, his expression studiedly neutral. “He’s this kid I stopped from getting beat up the other week. He works at Mr. Zoo’s.”

“You’ve been to Mr. Zoo’s?” Will says, like it’s strange.

“What do you need the yard for?” Rex asks, puzzled.

“Um, I told him I’d teach him to fight.”

Will buries his face in his martini glass to hide the fact that he’s laughing.

“Why does he need—Yeah, of course,” Rex says politely, though I can tell he’s nonplussed. “Feel free.”

“Thanks,” I tell Rex, smiling.

“Hey, come to Rex’s,” I tell Leo, and give him the address. “Can you get there or do you need a ride?”

Will is laughing outright as I hang up the phone.

“You’re teaching some kid to fight?” he says. “Who are you, Mr. Miyagi?”

“Would everyone stop it with the damn Karate Kid references!” I say. Rex and Will exchange a look.

“So, who is Leo?” Rex asks again.

I tell them about coming across Leo in the park and about the kids who were picking on him.

“But he’s a kid,” Rex says. “Like, a child?”

“He’s eighteen, I think,” I say.

“Oh my god,” Will laughs, looking at Rex. Will points a finger at him. “You’re jealous! Rexroth Vale, you are totally jealous of a teenager.” Then he stops laughing and pouts. “Hey! You were never jealous over me.”

Rex rolls his eyes and turns to me.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I never get any trick-or-treaters out that far anyway.”

“Trick-or… oh, that’s what Leo was talking about. Are you sure it’s okay? If you have plans or—”

“No, no. It’s fine. I don’t.”

“Thanks,” I say, and rest my shoulder against Rex’s. “So, do people go all out for Halloween here?”

“Not really,” Will says. “Well, maybe some of your students will; I don’t know. They do an early trick-or-treat thing for the kids so everyone’s home before dark. No fun if you ask me. But, then, I prefer tricks to treats anyway.” He winks at me.

“Did you go trick-or-treating as a kid?” I ask Rex.

“Naw, too shy,” he says. “My mom would usually bring home one of those plastic pumpkins from whatever bar or diner she was working in, and some candy. You?” he asks me.

“Oh hell no. Ring a stranger’s doorbell in my neighborhood and you would’ve gotten shot.” I wait for Will to chime in about whether or not he went trick-or-treating as a kid, but he doesn’t say anything. He gets up and gets another round, Rex waving no to a third beer.

“There are these ghost tours in Philly,” I tell Rex. “You know, like haunted history stuff. And one year, Ginger and I followed the tour to see the route, then on Halloween, we dressed in all white and Ginger did this makeup so we looked dead—she’s really good at makeup—and we hid in this one old graveyard in Old City that the tour went past. And when the tour guide started talking about the ghost of some elder statesman who supposedly haunted the graveyard, we jumped up and ran at the tour group. They all screamed and everything. It was perfect. But then, this old guy came running after us dressed in, like, a rotted potato sack with this long, bloody hair, and we screamed and ran. I guess he was supposed to be there to scare the tour group and we totally f*cked it up.”

Will has slid another drink into my hand while I’m talking and I sip it absently. I scoot a little closer to Rex, staring at Will. He’s not so intimidating.

“Daniel,” Rex is saying. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Um, at your house?”

He shakes his head. “That was a piece of toast. I think you need to eat something. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” I say, as my stomach gives a loud growl. “Do you guys want?”

“Fries,” Will says. Rex shakes his head. I order at the bar and stop at the bathroom. When I get back it’s clear they’ve been talking about me—or, Will has been—because he stops midsentence.

I slide back into the booth and lean my head against Rex’s shoulder just a little bit because I’m so tired all of a sudden. He puts his arm around me.

“So all it takes are a few shots of whiskey to turn the porcupine into a kitten, huh?” Will says. Is he talking to me? Rex’s arm tightens around my shoulder.

“I don’t like you at all,” I say to Will, who grins at me. It seems to break the ice, though, because by the time the food comes we’re all chatting about different places we’ve lived and Will asks me about teaching.