Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(62)

“Just go tell her I can’t make it. Say I came down with the flu or something.”

“Bird flu,” Coop says with a laugh. “Sorry.” He sobers his expression. “Look, if you really want to blow your only shot with your dream girl, that’s fine.”

“Isn’t there any other —?”

“Dude!” Coop roars. “With every second you bitch and moan, the shit particles are seeping deeper and deeper into your pores.”

“Can’t we at least go into the mall bathroom so I can hide in a stall?”

“Right. Sure. And risk running into Leyna? Or Evelyn? Or anyone else from our school? Looking like you were just shot from a whale’s vagina?” He sweeps his hand up and down. “You really want to take that chance?”

I throw my head back and groan in frustration. “Cripes. Okay. Fine.”

We trudge back behind Wal-Mart and duck behind the dumpster.

I unbutton my shirt with the tips of my fingers, careful not to touch the gloppy guano. It really does reek to holy hell. I slip the shirt off and let it slop to the pavement. The cold air stings my bare chest as I reach for my coat, which is balled up on the ground.

Coop steps on it. “No, sir. That’s slathered too.”

I wrap my arms around my naked shivering torso. “It’s cold.”

“Tough testicli. Deal with it.”

“Give me yours, then.”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think so.” He runs his hand down the sleeve of his bomber jacket. “This is genuine leatherette, dawg. I just got this bad boy for Christmas. I’m not about to have it contaminated with bird squat. Go huddle in that doorway over there. It’ll be warmer.”

I glance over at the blue WAL-MART EMPLOYEES ONLY door just a few yards away.

“No way. Someone might drive by and see me. Or come out for a smoke.”

“Don’t be such a wet tampon. Have you seen a single car drive by? And who the hell’s going to take their cigarette break by a dumpster? Get real. You’re safe and sound. Besides, I’m only going to be a minute. I’ll grab the first thing I see.”

“Fine,” I say. “But if I freeze to death, you’ll be the one who’ll have to explain it to my mother.”

He sighs loudly. “Okay, you infant. You can have my coat. But not before you remove those beshitted jeans. I don’t want you getting any splooge on my brand-new hide.”

“Thank you.” I gingerly pinch my wallet and phone from my front pockets, then unbutton my jeans and let them drop to my ankles. Finally, I kick them off over my sneakers. “There,” I say. “Happy?”

Coop laughs, pointing at my four-leaf-clover boxers. “Those your lucky underpants?”

“And what if they are?”

“How they working out for you?”

“Eat me, okay?”

Coop squats down and pinches up my crappy clothes. “You owe me for this, boss. Big-time.” He flings the whole bird-shitty mess into the dumpster, then slips out of his bomber.

I snatch the jacket from him and quickly pull it on, hugging myself to try and get warm.

“All right.” Coop thrusts his hand out. “How much cash do you have?”

I open my wallet and pluck out the lone bill that’s there.

“Ten bucks?” He grimaces. “For a pair of pants and a shirt? They don’t have a Salvation Army in the mall, dude.”

“It’s all I brought,” I say, through chattering teeth. “Don’t you have some money? I can pay you back later.”

“Unfortunately I’m a little light right now.” He plucks the ten from my fingers. “I’ll see how far I can stretch this. Maybe Wal-Mart’s having a sale. What’s your size? Dwarf?”

“Short jokes? Now?” I crouch down, rubbing my bare legs. “Like I’m not humiliated enough here already?”

“Fine, I’ll guesstimate,” he says, turning to go.

“Hurry,” I say.

“No prob,” he calls over his shoulder as he jogs away. “Be back ASAP. You won’t even have time to miss me.”

I turn and lean my head against the dumpster. I guess if you have to be half-naked in public, this is the place to do it. With nobody around to see you and a nice big dumpster to hide behind.

Five minutes go by. Ten. Twelve. What the hell’s taking him so long? I just hope we make it in time to catch Leyna. And that she’s not too pissed that I’m so late. Maybe Coop can help me concoct a brilliant excuse — something that makes me seem selfless and maybe even a little heroic. Maybe I was resuscitating a cat that was hit by a car. Or maybe I should just tell her about the birds. She might find it funny. And feel sorry for me. And offer me a consoling, passionate kiss.

I’m so lost in this fantasy that I almost don’t hear my phone ping with a text message.

I slip my cell from Coop’s jacket and look down, fully expecting to see another update from Matt.

But what I read on the screen is like a wrecking ball to the gut. It’s a text from Coop:

n trbl w/ mall cops. srry dawg. cnt get 2 u :(





MY HEART NEARLY BURSTS from my chest like an Alien fetus. Mall cops? Holy crap! He must have tried to jack some clothes, the idiot. Jesus Christ! What the hell am I supposed to do now?