Saint Anything(40)

We stepped out into the hallway and I turned off Jenn’s light, easing the door shut behind us. Halfway down the stairs, we bumped into Margaret and Chris.

“Sydney?” she said, her eyes widening as she glimpsed Mac behind me. “What are you doing?”

Considering she was alone with the guy Jenn had clearly stated she was crushing on, in Jenn’s house, on her way to where there were only bedrooms, I wanted to ask her the same thing. Instead I said, “This is Mac. He’s a friend of mine from school.”

“A friend,” she repeated, drawing the word out. She looked at Chris. “And what were you two doing upstairs?”

“Checking on Jenn,” I told her, narrowing my eyes at her. “Just like you are. Right?”

“Right,” she said, not missing a beat. “Of course.”

I stepped around her, brushing past as I went down the stairs with Mac behind me. As he passed her, she noticed his T-shirt.

“Wait,” she said, turning around to look down at us. “Is this . . . Are you the pizza guy?”

She said this with a half laugh, her voice rising at the end. I’d already decided I disliked her, but it was only then that I felt a full-on bolt of rage. I was about to tell her where she could stick her pizza, in detail, but then Mac spoke first.

“Seventeen forty-two is your total,” he told her. “Small bills appreciated.”

Margaret just looked at him, her expression icy. He stared back, clearly unfazed. Finally, she turned to me. “Money’s on the counter in an envelope. Don’t overtip.”

With this, she turned and began to climb the stairs again. Chris stayed where he was, his expression hesitant. “Hey,” he said to me, his voice low. “I—”

“Come on,” Margaret barked from the landing. There was a beat, and then he, too, turned and disappeared upstairs.

My face was hot as I walked down the hallway to the kitchen, embarrassed and pissed off all at once. “She’s nice,” Mac said. “Friend of yours?”

“No,” I said flatly.

In the kitchen, we found Huck and Charlie still at the table, now taking plain shots and throwing cocktail peanuts into each other’s mouths. They were drunk enough to not really notice us, but I saw Mac take them in as I found the envelope Jenn’s mom had left, the words For your birthday dinner! in a flowery script on the front. If only she knew. I took out twenty-five, sliding it over to him. He handed the five back.

“Take it,” I said, pushing it at him.

He moved it back toward me. “Sydney, come on.”

My move. “Mac. It’s the least I can do.”

His. “I’m not taking your charity.”

Me. “It’s not my money.”

Him. “I don’t care.”

I reached to push the bill again, and he did, too, our hands meeting right over Abe Lincoln’s face. Neither of us moved. I could feel the warmth of his fingertips, barely tangible, against mine. We stayed there for one second. Two. Then, from somewhere, a buzzing sound.

Mac kept his hand on the five, reaching into a back pocket. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen, then showed it to me.

LAYLA, said the caller ID at the top. The message read only:

Where are my fries??????????

I smiled. “That’s a lot of question marks.”

“I told you. She’s serious.” He lifted his fingers away from mine, barely, and pushed the bill one last time in my direction. Then he glanced at Huck and Charlie, who were giggling like girls over something at the table. “You gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve known them forever, they’re fine.”

He nodded, then put his phone back in his pocket and started for the door. I followed him, pulling it open as he took out the pizzas from the warmer and handed them to me. As he went outside, I said, “Thanks again. For everything.”

“No problem. Like I told you, it’s part of the job.”

“Sure it is.”

I stood there holding the boxes as he walked down the steps and to the truck, pulling open the driver’s side door. Upstairs, Margaret was doing God knew what with Chris McMichaels, and I had two more drunk people to deal with once I returned to the kitchen. But Jenn was safe, so was I, and at least there was pizza. I waved at Mac as he backed down the driveway, and he blinked his brights at me before he drove away.

Back in the kitchen, the guys jumped on the pies, diving right in, but I went over to the counter. That five was still sitting there. Unlike some people, I wasn’t one to take things that weren’t mine, so I found one in my wallet and put it in the envelope before claiming the original bill as my own.

As I folded it carefully, I walked back to the front door, peering out at the empty street. Mac’s always somewhere nearby, Layla had told me, but I hadn’t realized how true it really was. That night, curled up on the other side of Jenn’s bed, her soft breathing filling the room, I slept with one hand in my pocket, the bill between my fingers. Each time I woke up, I made sure it was still there.





CHAPTER

10





LOCAL TEEN FACES TRAGEDY, RISES ABOVE, the headline read. Just below it, there was a picture of David Ibarra in his wheelchair. He was smiling.

Suddenly it made sense. Why, when I’d come into the kitchen moments earlier, I’d found my dad standing over the newspaper, which was open on the table. His back was to me, but I could see he had one hand to his mouth. His shoulders were shaking.