dead ants.
Three
Sometimes Gaffey felt like his magnifying glass was his only friend. He’d stolen it from the kid next door who had a habit of leaving his science kit unattended on the front porch while he went inside for a lemonade or something. After Gaffey stole it he hid in some bushes and giggled to himself when the boy came back outside and discovered it was missing. The boy cried all night and Gaffey pushed his bed next to his open bedroom window so he could lie there in the dark and listen to the kid’s tormented sobs.
Gaffey had been stoned at the time and later on didn’t see what was so amusing about it. But Price found out about what he’d done when he caught Gaffey frying ants on the sidewalk. Gaffey thought he was done for but Price in his usual indifferent and arrogant way went next door and told the boy’s mother that he’d seen a crow alight on the porch, pick up the magnifying glass and fly away.
“They love shiny things,” he said, and the boy’s mother, with her fat jutting out at odd angles under her floral print dress, seemed to accept this explanation. She only crossed her meaty arms and nodded solemnly.
After that the boy kept his science things indoors. Price told Gaffey that the kid’s father had built him a laboratory in the basement. Gaffey was jealous and for a brief moment contemplated his college days. He’d been so full of science and promise.
Now as he kneeled on the sidewalk with the magnifying glass poised ominously over a lone, black ant, he thought about college again, but decided it wasn’t worth bringing up the past.
The ant collapsed and died with a little shudder. The magnifying glass caught a piercing ray from the sun and shot it into Gaffey’s eyes. He tilted the tool until the glare was gone.
He used his other hand to pluck a leaf from a nearby bush and gently pushed the ant onto it with his index finger. It was always his habit to bury the things he killed. He’d made a cemetery for dead ants in the cool shade beneath the bush.
The screen door next door banged. The boy came outside carrying a test tube filled with bluish liquid and a shiny new magnifying glass. Gaffey jumped to his feet and dashed inside. The ant was not buried, and he was pressed against the front door, salivating.
Four
Maxy liked to read but Rizzy didn’t, so in exchange for accompanying her on trips to the library, Maxy had to go with Rizzy to any one of her various haunts around town, including the Fifth Street Laundromat, where a boy she had a crush on worked, and the ice cream parlor at the corner of College and Main, where another boy she had a crush on worked. Maxy didn’t care much for boys or crushes. She preferred her literary heroes over any boy the real world had to offer.
On Tuesday afternoon Rizzy agreed to go to the library with Maxy, but only after they stopped for ice cream. Maxy hesitated for a moment but then relented because she hated going places by herself.
When school let out the two of them walked uptown to Sundae’s, the ice cream parlor.
“Your boy isn’t working today, Rizzy,” Maxy said as they sat down at the counter. Her eyes were rolling all around in her head as she searched behind the counter for Rizzy’s elusive boy.
Rizzy seemed unconcerned. She ordered a chocolate cone and made eyes at another boy who was busy mopping the floor where a young girl had spilled her ice cream. The little girl was still sobbing and the boy looked embarrassed. Maxy looked at the girl’s mother. Her mouth was set in a thin, angry line. She jerked her daughter roughly by the arm. “Do I have to take you outside and beat your behind?” she hissed. The girl quieted. “That’s what I thought,” her mother said.
Maxy watched Rizzy eat her ice cream for a while, but she’d ordered a double scoop and took her time eating it. Maxy was anxious to get to the library. “Come on,” she urged, starting to rise from her seat.
Rizzy glared at her. Her entire body was still. Her tongue rested on the cold scoop of chocolate ice cream, the warmth of it forming a dent in the soft treat. “Thcrew you,” she said.
“Come on,” Maxy said again. “You can finish that on the way to the library.”
“God.” Rizzy pushed off the counter, twirling her seat around, and hopped to the floor. The boy mopping the floor was looking at her. She gave him a wink.
“Rizzy, come on,” Maxy begged, trying to take Rizzy’s arm. Rizzy pulled away and strode toward the door. Maxy followed meekly behind.
When they were out on the sidewalk Rizzy started her lecture. “Honestly, Maxy. I go to the library with you anytime you want, which is, like, every single day, but then when I want you to go somewhere with me you can hardly stand it.” She bit into her cone.
“I just want to get there early today, okay? There’s a book supposed to come back today that someone has had checked out for, like, two months. And I really want to read it, that’s all.” Maxy’s rebuttal had turned into a quick, painless apology, just like it always did.
“I hate books,” Rizzy said, even though Maxy hadn’t asked her if she liked them or not. She was taking long strides with her long legs. They weren’t walking side by side any longer; Rizzy waited impatiently at the crosswalk for Maxy to catch up.
“I think if you actually tried to read a book, you wouldn’t think they were so bad,” Maxy tried.
Rizzy made an obnoxious slurping sound with her ice cream cone as an answer.
Five
Once they reached the library Maxy begged Rizzy to discard her half-eaten ice cream cone, but Rizzy refused to listen. She pushed open the library’s door with a sticky hand, leaving a chocolate handprint on the glass. Maxy’s face reddened as she thought, They’re going to see that, they’re definitely going to see that and then Rizzy and I will get kicked out and I’ll have to turn in my library card and I’ll never be able to come back here ever again.
Once Maxy was inside she quickly distanced herself from Rizzy, whom she was sure was going to be ejected at any moment. Rizzy didn’t seem to notice or care. She never joined Maxy in her search for new things to read; she usually just took a seat in the reading area and picked at her nails until sufficient time for Maxy to choose a book had elapsed. Maxy was usually startled when Rizzy suddenly poked her head around the corner of a bookshelf and said, “Are you done yet?”
Rizzy was wandering toward the reading area when a voice at the front counter stopped her.
“Drop that cone, young lady.”
Startled, Rizzy turned to find the source of the odd demand. A young man was standing behind the front counter, grinning slyly at her.
“Ooh, cutie,” she murmured under her breath. She smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Why should I?” she said to him.
“Why don’t you come a little closer?” he asked, lowering his voice significantly to show her that she needed to keep hers down too. Once Rizzy was at the counter he whispered, “This is a library, you know.”
“I know,” Rizzy replied, her voice still slightly raised. She took another bite of her ice cream cone.
“It’s not nice, you know,” the young man said. Rizzy looked at him quizzically. He ran his fingers through his brown hair and pointed to her ice cream cone. “There are a lot of people in here who would certainly love to have an ice cream cone like that.”
Rizzy pulled the cone toward her chest. “Get your own,” she said, smirking.
“Where’d you get that from? Sundae’s?”
“Maybe and maybe not,” Rizzy replied, even though Sundae’s was the only ice cream place in town.
“You go to the high school?” His smile was tainted with something wicked. Rizzy wasn’t sure what it was.
“Maybe and maybe not,” she said again.
“Look.” He was getting serious now. “You’re really not supposed to have stuff like that in here. You might ruin a book.”
“I don’t read books.” Rizzy bit the bottom of the cone off and noisily sucked out the rest of the ice cream.
“Really.” He didn’t looked surprised. “So what do you do?”
“None of your business,” Rizzy replied matter-of-factly. She held the empty cone out to him. “Hey, will you throw this away for me please?”
“Tell me your name first.”
“Diane. Now throw it away.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” Rizzy was getting annoyed. “Fine. Fine, Diane.” The young man took the cone from her and tossed it in a trash can. “My name is Price.”
“Liar. Who ever heard of a name like Price?” Rizzy asked.
“I’ll prove it.” He pulled out his wallet and showed her his driver’s license.
Rizzy checked out the date of birth. “Oh my god,” she said. “Are you really that old?”
“I don’t call 23 ‘that old,’” Price replied, irritated. “Anyway, how old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“You look older than fifteen,” Price said, sizing her up.
“Really? How old do I look?”
“Eighteen, at least.” He smiled at her, but it looked more like he was baring his teeth.
Rizzy stood at the counter for a minute, deep in thought. Price turned to attend to a patron. When he turned back to her she was digging the toe of her sandal into the faded blue carpet. “I lied,” she said, looking at the floor. “About my name. It’s Rizzy, actually.”
“I knew you were lying,” Price replied. “Hmm. Rizzy. Is that a nickname?”
“No.”
“You didn’t lie about your age, did you?” Price asked. “Because I swear you could pass for eighteen.”
“I wish I was lying about that,” she said, leaning her elbows on the counter.
Price grinned wickedly. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” he said, leaning close to her. “You’ll have plenty of chances to tell other lies, I’m sure.”
Sometimes Gaffey felt like his magnifying glass was his only friend. He’d stolen it from the kid next door who had a habit of leaving his science kit unattended on the front porch while he went inside for a lemonade or something. After Gaffey stole it he hid in some bushes and giggled to himself when the boy came back outside and discovered it was missing. The boy cried all night and Gaffey pushed his bed next to his open bedroom window so he could lie there in the dark and listen to the kid’s tormented sobs.
Gaffey had been stoned at the time and later on didn’t see what was so amusing about it. But Price found out about what he’d done when he caught Gaffey frying ants on the sidewalk. Gaffey thought he was done for but Price in his usual indifferent and arrogant way went next door and told the boy’s mother that he’d seen a crow alight on the porch, pick up the magnifying glass and fly away.
“They love shiny things,” he said, and the boy’s mother, with her fat jutting out at odd angles under her floral print dress, seemed to accept this explanation. She only crossed her meaty arms and nodded solemnly.
After that the boy kept his science things indoors. Price told Gaffey that the kid’s father had built him a laboratory in the basement. Gaffey was jealous and for a brief moment contemplated his college days. He’d been so full of science and promise.
Now as he kneeled on the sidewalk with the magnifying glass poised ominously over a lone, black ant, he thought about college again, but decided it wasn’t worth bringing up the past.
The ant collapsed and died with a little shudder. The magnifying glass caught a piercing ray from the sun and shot it into Gaffey’s eyes. He tilted the tool until the glare was gone.
He used his other hand to pluck a leaf from a nearby bush and gently pushed the ant onto it with his index finger. It was always his habit to bury the things he killed. He’d made a cemetery for dead ants in the cool shade beneath the bush.
The screen door next door banged. The boy came outside carrying a test tube filled with bluish liquid and a shiny new magnifying glass. Gaffey jumped to his feet and dashed inside. The ant was not buried, and he was pressed against the front door, salivating.
Four
Maxy liked to read but Rizzy didn’t, so in exchange for accompanying her on trips to the library, Maxy had to go with Rizzy to any one of her various haunts around town, including the Fifth Street Laundromat, where a boy she had a crush on worked, and the ice cream parlor at the corner of College and Main, where another boy she had a crush on worked. Maxy didn’t care much for boys or crushes. She preferred her literary heroes over any boy the real world had to offer.
On Tuesday afternoon Rizzy agreed to go to the library with Maxy, but only after they stopped for ice cream. Maxy hesitated for a moment but then relented because she hated going places by herself.
When school let out the two of them walked uptown to Sundae’s, the ice cream parlor.
“Your boy isn’t working today, Rizzy,” Maxy said as they sat down at the counter. Her eyes were rolling all around in her head as she searched behind the counter for Rizzy’s elusive boy.
Rizzy seemed unconcerned. She ordered a chocolate cone and made eyes at another boy who was busy mopping the floor where a young girl had spilled her ice cream. The little girl was still sobbing and the boy looked embarrassed. Maxy looked at the girl’s mother. Her mouth was set in a thin, angry line. She jerked her daughter roughly by the arm. “Do I have to take you outside and beat your behind?” she hissed. The girl quieted. “That’s what I thought,” her mother said.
Maxy watched Rizzy eat her ice cream for a while, but she’d ordered a double scoop and took her time eating it. Maxy was anxious to get to the library. “Come on,” she urged, starting to rise from her seat.
Rizzy glared at her. Her entire body was still. Her tongue rested on the cold scoop of chocolate ice cream, the warmth of it forming a dent in the soft treat. “Thcrew you,” she said.
“Come on,” Maxy said again. “You can finish that on the way to the library.”
“God.” Rizzy pushed off the counter, twirling her seat around, and hopped to the floor. The boy mopping the floor was looking at her. She gave him a wink.
“Rizzy, come on,” Maxy begged, trying to take Rizzy’s arm. Rizzy pulled away and strode toward the door. Maxy followed meekly behind.
When they were out on the sidewalk Rizzy started her lecture. “Honestly, Maxy. I go to the library with you anytime you want, which is, like, every single day, but then when I want you to go somewhere with me you can hardly stand it.” She bit into her cone.
“I just want to get there early today, okay? There’s a book supposed to come back today that someone has had checked out for, like, two months. And I really want to read it, that’s all.” Maxy’s rebuttal had turned into a quick, painless apology, just like it always did.
“I hate books,” Rizzy said, even though Maxy hadn’t asked her if she liked them or not. She was taking long strides with her long legs. They weren’t walking side by side any longer; Rizzy waited impatiently at the crosswalk for Maxy to catch up.
“I think if you actually tried to read a book, you wouldn’t think they were so bad,” Maxy tried.
Rizzy made an obnoxious slurping sound with her ice cream cone as an answer.
Five
Once they reached the library Maxy begged Rizzy to discard her half-eaten ice cream cone, but Rizzy refused to listen. She pushed open the library’s door with a sticky hand, leaving a chocolate handprint on the glass. Maxy’s face reddened as she thought, They’re going to see that, they’re definitely going to see that and then Rizzy and I will get kicked out and I’ll have to turn in my library card and I’ll never be able to come back here ever again.
Once Maxy was inside she quickly distanced herself from Rizzy, whom she was sure was going to be ejected at any moment. Rizzy didn’t seem to notice or care. She never joined Maxy in her search for new things to read; she usually just took a seat in the reading area and picked at her nails until sufficient time for Maxy to choose a book had elapsed. Maxy was usually startled when Rizzy suddenly poked her head around the corner of a bookshelf and said, “Are you done yet?”
Rizzy was wandering toward the reading area when a voice at the front counter stopped her.
“Drop that cone, young lady.”
Startled, Rizzy turned to find the source of the odd demand. A young man was standing behind the front counter, grinning slyly at her.
“Ooh, cutie,” she murmured under her breath. She smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Why should I?” she said to him.
“Why don’t you come a little closer?” he asked, lowering his voice significantly to show her that she needed to keep hers down too. Once Rizzy was at the counter he whispered, “This is a library, you know.”
“I know,” Rizzy replied, her voice still slightly raised. She took another bite of her ice cream cone.
“It’s not nice, you know,” the young man said. Rizzy looked at him quizzically. He ran his fingers through his brown hair and pointed to her ice cream cone. “There are a lot of people in here who would certainly love to have an ice cream cone like that.”
Rizzy pulled the cone toward her chest. “Get your own,” she said, smirking.
“Where’d you get that from? Sundae’s?”
“Maybe and maybe not,” Rizzy replied, even though Sundae’s was the only ice cream place in town.
“You go to the high school?” His smile was tainted with something wicked. Rizzy wasn’t sure what it was.
“Maybe and maybe not,” she said again.
“Look.” He was getting serious now. “You’re really not supposed to have stuff like that in here. You might ruin a book.”
“I don’t read books.” Rizzy bit the bottom of the cone off and noisily sucked out the rest of the ice cream.
“Really.” He didn’t looked surprised. “So what do you do?”
“None of your business,” Rizzy replied matter-of-factly. She held the empty cone out to him. “Hey, will you throw this away for me please?”
“Tell me your name first.”
“Diane. Now throw it away.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” Rizzy was getting annoyed. “Fine. Fine, Diane.” The young man took the cone from her and tossed it in a trash can. “My name is Price.”
“Liar. Who ever heard of a name like Price?” Rizzy asked.
“I’ll prove it.” He pulled out his wallet and showed her his driver’s license.
Rizzy checked out the date of birth. “Oh my god,” she said. “Are you really that old?”
“I don’t call 23 ‘that old,’” Price replied, irritated. “Anyway, how old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“You look older than fifteen,” Price said, sizing her up.
“Really? How old do I look?”
“Eighteen, at least.” He smiled at her, but it looked more like he was baring his teeth.
Rizzy stood at the counter for a minute, deep in thought. Price turned to attend to a patron. When he turned back to her she was digging the toe of her sandal into the faded blue carpet. “I lied,” she said, looking at the floor. “About my name. It’s Rizzy, actually.”
“I knew you were lying,” Price replied. “Hmm. Rizzy. Is that a nickname?”
“No.”
“You didn’t lie about your age, did you?” Price asked. “Because I swear you could pass for eighteen.”
“I wish I was lying about that,” she said, leaning her elbows on the counter.
Price grinned wickedly. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” he said, leaning close to her. “You’ll have plenty of chances to tell other lies, I’m sure.”