Free A Plague Year by Edward Bloor

“And thatReese’s peanut butter cups, Cadbury eggs, and Heath bars are all made by Hershey’s?”
    Her pretty face oscillated back and forth slightly, indicating no.
    “It’s true. It’s like … we think we’re making choices in the supermarket, but in reality, there’s not much choice at all.”
    Wendy’s blue eyes bore into mine. She told me, “That’s kinda deep.”
    I smiled. “Thanks.”
    Her mouth twisted into a frown. “But do you really believe that?”
    I stopped smiling. “Believe what?”
    “That there’s not much choice?”
    I didn’t understand. “For what?”
    She looked toward those distant aisles. “Not much choice for your life. You know—for where you live, for what you do.”
    “I sure hope there’s a choice. I don’t want to stay here.”
    She looked interested again. “No? You want to move somewhere else?”
    “Yeah! I’ve been sending away for college brochures, to places I think I can get into. You know, if I work hard. And they’re all in Florida.”
    “Florida?”
    “That’s about as far from here as you can get.”
    “Yeah.” She hesitated for just a moment. “We’ve lived there.”
    “Really? Where?”
    “Melbourne.”
    “Was that a nice place?”
    “Yeah. It was nice. But I liked California even better. San Diego. That’s where my mom lives now.”
    “Oh?”
    Then she came right out and told me: “My dad left my mom for Catherine, back when Catherine was a grad student. My mom’s remarried now, to a naval officer, and she travels all over the world.” She assured me, “So it’s all cool.”
    Catherine Lyle reappeared at the front of the aisle. She turned her cart toward us. Again she avoided eye contact with me, but not with Wendy. She waved for Wendy to join her at the register.
    Wendy said, “I guess we’re through shopping. I’ll see you in second period tomorrow.”
    “Yeah. In our old context.”
    “Right. Good word. Use it three times and you’ll own it.”
    “I know.” I thought,
She must read the same PSAT workbook I do!
    I watched her walk away. She had that model walk, too.
    A minute later, Dad stopped at the end cap and stared at me curiously. He said, “You’re due for a break, aren’t you, Tom?”
    I checked my watch. “Yeah, I am. Can I get the keys to the van?”
    Dad fished in his pockets. “Sure.”
    I took the keys and walked out, way out, to Dad’s parking space. I was hoping to study some vocabulary and I thought the van would be the safest place, but I was wrong. I had just opened the book when Reg appeared at the window, lit cigarette in hand. He asked me, “Uncle Tom, did you rat me out with your dad?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “About that Chiquita banana thing?”
    “No.”
    “No? Then it must’ve been Uno. He’s the type. He’s lacking in the testicular department. You know?”
    “Yeah. I guess.”
    Reg flicked an ash away. “What are you doing out here?”
    I showed him the book cover. “Learning new words.”
    “For school?”
    “For a test.”
    “For one of my dad’s tests? I got the answers to those if you ever need ’em. They’re the same tests every year.”
    “No. For the PSAT. I’ll take it next spring.”
    He took a deep drag. “Uh-huh. What’s that?”
    “It’s a test that colleges use to give out scholarships.”
    “So this is about money?”
    “I guess so. Yeah.”
    “I hear that. It’s all about money. Or the lack thereof.” He pointed his free hand at the book. “What are the words? Let’s see if I know any.”
    I resigned myself to a vocabulary lesson with Reg. “Okay.
Obviate.
”
    “What’s that mean?”
    “ ‘To anticipate and prevent.’ ”
    “Give me an example.”
    I looked at the store in the distance. “Like if you think someone is going to shoplift, and you have an employee follow them around, you
obviate
the need for a cop.”
    “Because you anticipated what might happen. You thought it through.”
    “Right.”
    “I hear that. Give me