Read Online Bright Lights, Dark Nights by Stephen Emond - Free Book Online

out of her mouth. And then it was all I wanted to hear. The light at the intersection turned red and the little walking guy turned white. A bunch of people crossed the street together under a smattering of traffic lights and streetlamps.
    I took Naomi’s hand and felt a shiver through my whole body. I was positive my hands were clammy and sweaty and my heart was ready to explode, but I didn’t hesitate. I was sure that this was okay. That this was supposed to happen. I gave her hand a squeeze and she squeezed mine back. Some kind of secret communication and I didn’t know what it said. Maybe I’ve got you, or Is this more than friendship? or maybe just Hello .
    â€œI promise you I’m not a compulsive liar,” I said as we walked toward the less glamorous transit bus in the parking lot.
    â€œYou promise? That’s exactly what a compulsive liar would say,” Naomi said. “I think you’re witty. Most people would have bailed on the Uncle Dave story about three seconds after the joke, but you hung in like a trouper. I’m proud of you, man.”
    â€œDo you want to walk back?” I asked. The two guys from the concert weren’t far behind us, and a line of people in the parking lot were piling onto the bus already. We could be alone, stretch this out. Have some space. “We can get a bus at the next stop unless you have to get home right away. I can protect us if we get in trouble. I’m a black belt in karate.”
    â€œAre you really or is this more compulsive lying?” Naomi asked. She let go of my hand as we passed the bus stop. My hand felt empty now.
    â€œThis is lying,” I said. “I’m completely beltless. But it is pretty safe here.”
    â€œAll right, let’s walk. But if any ninjas pop up, you better protect me.”
    â€œHave you angered ninjas?” I asked. “No, you know what? It’s a deal.” We made our way through the tall uptown buildings and bright lights to the nighttime oranges of the business district. Orange lights, brown trees, yellow walk signals, and cars lined up on every curb. Everywhere we looked, there was life, even at ten, eleven, whatever time it was. The night owls were out. Nate might have been right about tonight: it just could be the best night of my life.
    â€œLet’s play a game,” Naomi said as we waited to cross the street. “We each get to ask the other five questions, and by the end we’ll know everything there is to know about each other. I’ve got, like, a thousand questions I can ask already, so it should be easy. You in?”
    â€œI’m in,” I said. The silence of the bus ride to the concert felt like ages ago. “You go first, since it’s your game. I need to know if this is, like, ‘your favorite letter’ kind of questions or ‘who would your murder if you had the chance’ kind of questions.”
    â€œThose are both good,” Naomi said. “But okay. First question. Walter Wilcox, what is your favorite memory?” She gave the side of my head a playful poke, and it gave me a rush.
    â€œMy favorite? Wow, that’s tough,” I said. She hit hard right off the bat. “I could still be thinking by the time we get to the bus stop.”
    â€œWhat’s the first thing that popped into your head?” Naomi asked. I couldn’t say the head poke or the hand-holding. Could I? No, I couldn’t say that. I did have an image, though.
    â€œI don’t know if it’s legitimately my favorite memory, but Disney World,” I said. We crossed another street, darting through headlight beams. “I was eight years old. My family drove all the way down there. My family never really did anything, so that was a huge deal. I was obsessed with it all year. Nobody fought. We all had a blast, so, yeah, maybe that’s my favorite memory.”

    â€œHow about something specific?” Naomi asked. “So I can