Free If You Really Love Me by Gene Gant Page B

little reassuring squeeze right there in the hall with other kids around.
    “I’m being a big baby, I know. I’m sorry.”
    “Sorry for what? If one of my best friends moved away, I’d be down too.”
    “We’ve been friends practically since we were born. Cary’s always been there for me.” I start to take off my jacket but a sudden wave of sadness hits me and I slump forward, resting my forehead against the locker’s door.
    Saul slides his arm around my shoulders. “Well, I know I can’t take the place of your best friend. But I’ll be there for you, man.”
     
     
    A PATTERN develops. Mom goes to work, and she goes out with Breeze. Between her job and her dating, I hardly see her. In a few days, I use up all of the groceries I bought. Saturday, I go back to Southern Market, but Mr. Luigi isn’t there. Two of his sons are running his booth. They say he went out of town for an old friend’s funeral. They don’t offer me any work and seem annoyed that I’m distracting them from their customers, so I leave.
    I spend the last of my money on a box of limited edition pumpkin pie flavored Pop-Tarts. There are six packets of two pastries each in the box. Opening one packet for breakfast and one packet for dinner, the Pop-Tarts take me three more days. Mom keeps forgetting to go to the supermarket, and I know that’s because when she gets off work, the only thing she can think about is seeing Breeze. The few times I do see her, I don’t say anything about groceries because she’s so happy, and I don’t want to ruin that for her. I stop by a few fast-food joints where I have already applied for a job and been turned down. The managers tell me they still don’t have any work for me.
    Usually, in a situation like this, I would go down to Cary’s for a meal, but I’ve kind of been avoiding him. I’m not avoiding him out of anger; I’m not mad at him, I swear. I’m staying away from him because I have to get myself used to not having him around. Otherwise, I think it would be too much of a brain shock to go suddenly from him being right downstairs to him being completely gone. I might have a stroke or something.
    But there’s Saul. At school, he manages to spend time with me between our classes, even if it’s only for a few seconds to exchange smiles. Kids at school are beginning to talk. I see them looking as if they don’t quite know what to make of us—like we’re a couple of extraterrestrials and they’re trying to figure out what planet we’re from—and then they whisper among themselves. I don’t care what they say about me, but I do worry over what they think of Saul now that he has so openly shown that he likes me.
    He drives me home every day, and we watch an episode of Avatar together. We do homework together. We make out. We make each other laugh. In just a little under two weeks, he’s become the brightest spot in my life.
    He comes to the rescue. On the Monday before Thanksgiving, we’re sitting on the sofa in my living room while he’s working on his iPad to pull up the next episode of Avatar. “I’m starved,” he says. “How’s about a peanut butter sandwich?”
    One thing I’ve noticed about Saul is that he doesn’t eat a whole lot of “regular” food, at least when he’s around me. Most times when we have a snack, he pulls out one of the protein bars he keeps stashed in his jacket. He does seem to like peanut butter, however, and I feel bad having to turn him down. “Sorry, man. I don’t have any peanut butter.”
    “No problem. You got an apple or banana or something?”
    I shake my head. “Mom hasn’t had a chance to do the grocery shopping.”
    He gives me a long, silent look that is almost suspicious. “Come on.”
    He takes me to the supermarket and hands me forty bucks and tells me to get what I need. Looking at him holding out that money to me fills me with so many different feelings. I want to laugh and cry and kiss him and shout. But I’m also ashamed