was like trying to get hold of a dream or get at an itch that was in a really difficult-to-reach place.
He walked through the hallways, frowning, staring around him. Something was missing.
He combed the hallways and the classrooms. What was it? Had they taken a bulletin board down? Didn’t there used to be a water fountain over there?
Well, whatever it was, it sure wasn’t Danton. In gym class, he was on Edward’s tail the whole time, pushing him to run and jump and catch. Edward’s feet, of course, acted like they belonged to some distant relative in Australia, but when, now and then, he got it right, made a good pass or actually got the ball in the hoop, Danton would get all happy and excited and would yell, “You see? You see? That’s what I’m telling you!”
He was such a nice guy that Edward couldn’t help trying his best.
Danton’s lunch tray was amazing.
There was a plateful of something that bore a distant resemblance to spaghetti and meatballs. Beside it was a sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap. Next to that was a styrofoam carton with chicken nuggets. Additionally, he had two bananas and a small plastic cup of applesauce. He began with the spaghetti. He plunged in with his spork as if he had been lost in the wilderness for days.
While he ate, he talked and asked Edward questions. He’d taken his little brother to Coney Island last weekend. Had Edward ever been on the Cyclone? Did Edward do any martial arts? No? It was the best discipline and good for coordination and the core. It was just what Edward needed. Maybe Edward would like to take a trial class at his dojo. Edward nodded and did not mention that he had no idea what a dojo was. Did Edward play World of Warcraft? Edward did not. He knew this was a video game, but he did not mention that his aunt allowed no video games. What did Edward do after school?
Edward hesitated. “Not much. You know, TV, the computer, homework, thinking about things.”
Danton was eating the sandwich. It might have been bologna or might have been thin slices of rubber tire. When he was done he caught sight of the slice of bread that Edward hadn’t eaten. “You gonna eat that?”
Edward handed it to him silently. Danton examined it, then took a large bite. Then he took another. He finished the rest, closing his eyes as he chewed. When he was finished he opened his eyes and gazed curiously at Edward.
“What was that?”
“Anadama bread with honey and butter. My aunt made the bread herself.”
“Do you have any more?”
“That was the last piece.”
“Is there more at her house?”
“Her house is my house. I live with her. She made a couple of loaves yesterday.”
“She’s a genius.”
“I wouldn’t say that. She’s actually a wacko, but she’s a good cook. She teaches baking and stuff.”
“How’s she a wacko?”
He sighed. This was not easy to talk about, but Edward did not believe in telling untruths. “She believes in solstices and nature and saving the souls of spiders and stuff.”
“How come you live with her? Where are your parents?”
Edward paused again. The answer to this was always a conversational landmine. “Dead,” he told Danton at last.
It was funny how the other person always looked so embarrassed at this news, like it was their own fault or something. “Oh, hey, I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. I don’t remember much about them.”
“You don’t have any brothers or sisters or anything?”
“No.” The look of sympathy on Danton’s face made Edward irritable. What would he do with a little brother or sister? “Listen,” Edward said, “Do you have the feeling that something’s missing?”
“What?” Danton blinked.
They both looked around the lunchroom. There was shouting and laughter, chairs scraping across floors. The troll ladies who served the food yelled at people to move along. Paper airplanes and crumpled balls of aluminum foil sailed through the air.
At the same moment, they both realized
He walked through the hallways, frowning, staring around him. Something was missing.
He combed the hallways and the classrooms. What was it? Had they taken a bulletin board down? Didn’t there used to be a water fountain over there?
Well, whatever it was, it sure wasn’t Danton. In gym class, he was on Edward’s tail the whole time, pushing him to run and jump and catch. Edward’s feet, of course, acted like they belonged to some distant relative in Australia, but when, now and then, he got it right, made a good pass or actually got the ball in the hoop, Danton would get all happy and excited and would yell, “You see? You see? That’s what I’m telling you!”
He was such a nice guy that Edward couldn’t help trying his best.
Danton’s lunch tray was amazing.
There was a plateful of something that bore a distant resemblance to spaghetti and meatballs. Beside it was a sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap. Next to that was a styrofoam carton with chicken nuggets. Additionally, he had two bananas and a small plastic cup of applesauce. He began with the spaghetti. He plunged in with his spork as if he had been lost in the wilderness for days.
While he ate, he talked and asked Edward questions. He’d taken his little brother to Coney Island last weekend. Had Edward ever been on the Cyclone? Did Edward do any martial arts? No? It was the best discipline and good for coordination and the core. It was just what Edward needed. Maybe Edward would like to take a trial class at his dojo. Edward nodded and did not mention that he had no idea what a dojo was. Did Edward play World of Warcraft? Edward did not. He knew this was a video game, but he did not mention that his aunt allowed no video games. What did Edward do after school?
Edward hesitated. “Not much. You know, TV, the computer, homework, thinking about things.”
Danton was eating the sandwich. It might have been bologna or might have been thin slices of rubber tire. When he was done he caught sight of the slice of bread that Edward hadn’t eaten. “You gonna eat that?”
Edward handed it to him silently. Danton examined it, then took a large bite. Then he took another. He finished the rest, closing his eyes as he chewed. When he was finished he opened his eyes and gazed curiously at Edward.
“What was that?”
“Anadama bread with honey and butter. My aunt made the bread herself.”
“Do you have any more?”
“That was the last piece.”
“Is there more at her house?”
“Her house is my house. I live with her. She made a couple of loaves yesterday.”
“She’s a genius.”
“I wouldn’t say that. She’s actually a wacko, but she’s a good cook. She teaches baking and stuff.”
“How’s she a wacko?”
He sighed. This was not easy to talk about, but Edward did not believe in telling untruths. “She believes in solstices and nature and saving the souls of spiders and stuff.”
“How come you live with her? Where are your parents?”
Edward paused again. The answer to this was always a conversational landmine. “Dead,” he told Danton at last.
It was funny how the other person always looked so embarrassed at this news, like it was their own fault or something. “Oh, hey, I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. I don’t remember much about them.”
“You don’t have any brothers or sisters or anything?”
“No.” The look of sympathy on Danton’s face made Edward irritable. What would he do with a little brother or sister? “Listen,” Edward said, “Do you have the feeling that something’s missing?”
“What?” Danton blinked.
They both looked around the lunchroom. There was shouting and laughter, chairs scraping across floors. The troll ladies who served the food yelled at people to move along. Paper airplanes and crumpled balls of aluminum foil sailed through the air.
At the same moment, they both realized
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