Candy Colored Sky, стр. 34
“You see today’s paper?” Her question comes out of the blue, but I have a feeling she’s been sitting on it for a few miles.
She glances my way and I nod when our eyes meet, offering a short lopsided and sympathetic smile.
“Morgan is doing so much. A few of the local news stations are coming over tonight for interviews and to get updates on the case. She has all of Addy’s pictures pulled out and ready to show. She even has one of her in the outfit she was wearing when I—”
She doesn’t finish the thought and I don’t make her. It’s the outfit Eleanor saw her in. I didn’t pull her out of her house to rehash the things that are torturing her, though. I took her away to let her mind rest and to give her an escape from that feeling I sense is gnawing at her day and night. She feels responsible. I get it because there are days when I feel responsible, too, as if I said something just cruel enough to literally break my father’s heart.
“Are you serious about playing poker with my grandpa? You know he’s a bit of a shark, right?”
Eleanor shifts to face me, and her bent knee ends up resting on the edge of my thigh. I will myself not to look at it but it is literally the only thing I can think about.
“You know it’s card sharp, right?”
I don’t answer right away because, well, Eleanor’s leg and my leg are having a moment. When she snaps her fingers a few inches from my face I feel as though I maybe slipped into a catatonic state for a second or two. I didn’t. Her effect on me is just that powerful.
“Card sharp?” I managed to hear enough to play along. “That’s ridiculous. It doesn’t even make sense.”
“Oh sure, because little card sharks swimming around the ocean makes all the sense in the world.” Her mocking tone stuns me for a second. She may be able to handle herself at my grandpa’s card table after all.
She shifts back so she’s sitting straight again, and I mourn the loss of her knee but only for a beat as she replaces it with the feel of her arm against mine and her head leaned in as she shows me the screen of her phone. She pulls her gloves from her right hand with her teeth so she can work her phone screen, and I watch in wonder as she types CARD SHARP in to the search engine and totally proves she’s right. Technically, both are right. But her term was first.
“You and I would be really good at trivia,” I predict.
She clicks her screen off and tucks her phone away, smirking at me from the side.
“Maybe if we end up at the same college we’ll do one of those trivia nights at the bar and win a free round or whatever,” she says.
I let the visual of that sink in and can’t deny wishing for it to come true.
“Maybe,” I mumble.
The train makes several stops through the suburbs as it inches closer to downtown. Neither of us are dressed for that kind of an afternoon, though, so before we get too far into things, I suggest we get off at the Singerville stop because of the nice downtown and the bus line that goes to the state’s biggest shopping mall.
Eleanor agrees, and we spill out of the train and back into the cold Chicago winter. The sun is out today, a rarity, and it is probably the only thing keeping the temperature tolerable. It helps when we walk quickly, so we seem to speed walk everywhere we go. Our first stop is for hot cocoa at a bakery in the downtown. The hot drink warms us enough to make it to the bus line, and once we get inside the closest department store, we’re treated to a flash of warm air the moment we pull the glass doors apart.
“This is my favorite mall in the entire world,” Eleanor says. “We came here last year for junior prom shopping. I mean the dress was all right, but this place has one of those arcade restaurants and we went there for lunch. That’s what I really remember.”
“Shippy’s,” I say with a nod. I’ve been there once with Jake. It was for his birthday, maybe his tenth, so it’s been awhile. I doubt the place has changed all that much. Skee-ball and pop-a-shot and dance-off games for tickets. “Wanna see if it’s open?”
Her eyes light up at the suggestion, and I thank Grandpa Hank silently for the extra cash in my pocket thanks to his poker skills and being owed a free auto part. He refused to take it back and told me to “have a good time.” I believe today qualifies.
Eleanor nods emphatically and I gesture toward the escalator, a little embarrassed by the way she’s skipping next to me like an excited child. I’d never say anything, though. My hermit status is worth risking for her happiness.
When we get on the escalator, our strides are totally in sync. The result is a tight space that brings our bodies side-by-side and touching on the shared step. I begin to utter “Oh, sorry,” but before the apology finishes leaving my mouth I freeze at the feel of her fingers reaching in between mine. It’s strange how my hand just knows where to go, how my thumb knows it belongs on top and her pinky belongs on the very bottom. Our digits thread together like puzzle pieces meant to fit. Again, like in the train, I fight the urge to stare at the place where we touch. Eleanor is holding my