Running on Empty (11 page)

“Was that why your Dad decided to find another job?”

Allie didn’t respond right away. Then, “You know how we talk about everything in our family?”

“Yeah.”

“We talked about this, too. A lot. It wasn’t easy hearing my dad tell us how let down he felt. How people at work looked at him differently. A lot of people don’t understand addiction, don’t understand why a person can’t just say no to whatever monkey’s on their back. The gambling monkey, especially.” She shrugged. “Your parents are the ones you count on to take care of problems, right? Your dad isn’t supposed to
be
the problem, the reason you have to leave your home, your friends, your school. I was really mad at him for a while.”

Ethan felt her sigh, the sound lost beneath the waves and the breeze, and he could sense her struggling against tears.

“When we first moved here,” she continued, “I was miserable, stuck inside my own head, feeling sorry for myself. I wasn’t very friendly, and I know I put a lot of people off. But then you asked me out.” She looked up at him. “You don’t know what it meant to me. I know this’ll sound silly—”

“Nothing you say to me could ever sound silly,” he said, his voice husky.

She hugged him. “It was like turning a corner, like I was finally able to start over again.” Despite the tears in her eyes, she smiled. “I love you, Ethan. For that and for so much more.”

It was the first time she’d told him that. The words caught him like a stitch. “Allie—” he began.

She looked down. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

He put his hand under her chin, drew her face toward his. More than anything he wanted to speak those same words, say the thing he’d never said to anyone before. Instead, he leaned down and kissed her and, in the moments that passed, the cold had no meaning for them.

As they headed back to the Buick a few minutes later, Ethan squeezed Allie’s hand. “I’m glad you told me about your dad,” he said. “I know it wasn’t easy.”

“I just wanted you to understand why I wasn’t more excited about you winning that money. The lottery thing brought back a lot of bad memories, you know?”

“I know now.” He squeezed her hand again.

She brightened. “But at least some good can come of it, right?”

“Me making up for forgetting our anniversary?” he grinned.

She returned his smile. “Big time. But besides that.”

“Such as?”

“The guy at the diner,” she said. “That Boots person.”

“What about him?”

“Sounds like he can really use the money.”

Ethan stopped, forcing her to do the same. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“His four hundred fifty dollars.”

“What?”

“You’re giving him half, right?”

“Why?”

“
He
bought the ticket, Ethan.”

“Yeah, but he gave it to
me
. It was
my
tip.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Allie, I need that money. For my car.”

She looked up at him, a measure of disbelief in her eyes. “You’d really do that? Not give half to a guy whose idea of a big treat every couple weeks is a western sandwich with no tomato?”

Hearing her put it that way, he felt like an ass.

“Ethan,” she continued, “didn’t that woman you work with tell you the guy eats soup all the time? You just spent three hundred dollars on one meal.”

He sighed. “You’re right. He deserves some of the money.”

“You’ll give him half?”

“How about half of what’s left?”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Ethan—”

He threw up his hands. “Okay, okay, you win. Half.”

Grinning, she kissed him again, then reached into her purse and took out her mother’s car keys, pressing the button on the remote entry control.

Seeing the Buick’s headlights flash on and off, Ethan momentarily felt like he was watching one of those video lottery terminals pay off, the strobe and sound announcing the Next Big Winner. Except that Boots’s sudden windfall effectively made Ethan the Next Big Loser. But, of course, Allie was right. The guy could really use the cash.

“I’d give anything to be there when you give him the money,” Allie said, moving around to the driver’s door. “That’d really be something to see.”

Ethan imagined that moment, and he grinned in spite of himself. Yeah, that’d be something to see, all right.

He tugged on the Buick’s door handle but nothing happened.

As he waited for Allie to press the lock release again, a gust of strengthening wind off the harbour sent paper and dirt scudding along the street, and Ethan tugged his collar up against the cold. It felt like a storm was coming.

“So, Palmer!” roared Seth the next morning when he saw Ethan coming down the hall. He was standing beside his locker with Allie and Pete. “Why didn’t you tell us about your big win?”

“I planned to,” said Ethan as he approached them. “I wanted to surprise Allie with it first. You two goons couldn’t keep a secret if your lives depended on it.”

Pete faked a powerhouse right. “Nine hundred bucks, man! That’s some serious coin.”

“Par-tee time, Palmer!” crowed Seth. “And I know just how to help you spend it.”

Allie shook her head. “He doesn’t have a lot left. We celebrated our anniversary last night.”

Seth whistled. “Must’ve been some celebration.” He gave Ethan an exaggerated wink and added, “Hope you got your money’s worth.”

“Jeez, Seth,” Pete muttered. “Way to be crude, man.”

“We didn’t spend all of it,” said Allie, flashing Ethan a bright smile. “Ethan’s giving half the money away.”

Seth snorted his surprise. “Hey, charity begins at home, right?”

“It isn’t charity,” said Ethan. “I’m splitting it with the guy who bought the ticket. End of story.”

“Who bought it?” asked Seth.

Allie quickly told them about Boots, and Pete grinned. “The ticket tipper? That’s
great
, man!” he said, clapping Ethan on the back.

Seth, however, responded with air-kissing noises. “Sounds like a scene from one of those Hallmark movies, Palmer. I can see it all now.” He held his hands out, thumbs meeting in a camera-framing gesture, and he fake-panned the hallway, freezing on Ethan’s face. “Cue the violins.”

Ethan felt heat work its way up his neck. “Funny,” he said, his lips tight.

“No, I’m serious,” said Seth. “Okay, maybe not Hallmark—a guy probably has to give away a million or more to get a movie made about him. But you’re
Live at Five
material at least.”

Ethan rankled. He never watched the Halifax news show at home, but last week Moore-or-Less had shown their class some recorded segments in preparation for a video profile assignment. The clip about the woman lobbying for the right to raise chickens on her city property was especially ridiculous. People with an elevated sense of their own importance being interviewed by people who took themselves far too seriously, like they were saving the world one chicken at a time. The only thing missing was a caption crawling across the bottom of the screen proclaiming
A person is invariably defined by his ability to meet his obligations
.

“Right, Pete?” crowed Seth. “I’m thinking we’ll need multiple camera angles,” he continued, clearly oblivious to Ethan’s growing embarrassment. “And lots of voice-overs, right? Testimonials from friends, members of the community, stuff like that. Maybe we could even—”

“Cut it out,” Ethan hissed.

Seth blinked at him. “Hey, man. Just joking around, right?”

Allie made a sudden production of opening her backpack and pulling out her physics textbook. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve got stuff to do. Didn’t have much time for schoolwork last night, and something tells me Beaker’s got another quiz on tap.”

Pete and Ethan groaned simultaneously, and their unintentional chorus made all four of them laugh, putting the awkward moment behind them.

“See you guys in homeroom,” said Allie. She kissed Ethan goodbye and headed off to the physics lab.

“That’s cool about the money,” said Pete.

Ethan shrugged.

“Seriously, man,” continued Pete. “From what you said about that Boots guy, he can sure use the cash. I’d like to see his face when you give him his share.”

Christ!
Ethan thought, suddenly embarrassed.
Do you have to be so
gay
about it?
What really pissed him off, though, were those last two words—
his share
. The guy spent a goddamn
buck!

As if reading his mind, Seth said, “That’s a lot of coin to be throwing away, man.”

Ethan grimaced. “Don’t look at
me
. It was Allie’s idea.”

Pete nodded. “Sounds like Allie.”

“That money could really come in handy right now,” offered Seth.

“No shit,” said Ethan. “Money
always
comes in handy.”

“But especially now,” Seth said.

“Why?”

“I saw Filthy yesterday.”

Ethan held up his hand as if to stop traffic in the hallway. “I don’t need to hear about Filthy LaFarge cruising in—”

“He wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t what?”

“Cruising. He was parked outside that medical clinic on Quinpool.”

“Yeah? Maybe he’s finally seeing someone about his chronic B.O.”

Seth chuckled. “Nope. Seems he knocked up Shawna Oliver, and she’s planning on keeping it.”

Ethan shook his head. “Filthy’s never heard of condoms?” He jabbed Pete. “Now
that
guy’s
Live at Five
material.”

“Seth hasn’t told you the best part,” said Pete.

“What? You two assholes planning a baby shower?”

Seth looked at Pete, one eyebrow cocked. “I don’t think the philanthropist here is ready for the best part, do you?”

“You know, Seth,” Pete replied, “you could be right about that.” The two stared at Ethan, grins playing at the corners of both their mouths.

“Okay, okay, what’s the best part?”

Seth’s face split. “Filthy’s selling the Cobra. Wants to know if you’re still interested in buying it.”

Ethan ignored Moore-or-Less droning on about her damn video profile assignment, which she’d been yammering about non-stop for the last hour. Seth had explained that Filthy was desperate for cash and he wanted to unload the Mustang in the next few weeks. Filthy knew he couldn’t expect to make any money off it without putting some work into the car first, but he didn’t have the cash—or the time, either—so he was willing to sell the Cobra for the same price he’d paid Kyle. And he was willing to take a good-faith down payment from Ethan to hold the car for a few weeks. “Until the end of Shawna’s first trimester,” he’d told Pete. The fact that Filthy LaFarge even knew the word “trimester” might have come as a shock to Ethan if he hadn’t already been reeling with the news of the Cobra.

“What’s a good-faith down payment?” Ethan had asked Seth.

“A few hundred bucks and he’ll hold it for you ‘til Christmas,” Seth said. “If you don’t come up with the rest by then, he keeps the money and posts the car on Kijiji.” Ethan had sworn at that news. The car wouldn’t last an hour on that site.

“A few hundred?” he’d asked. “He get any more specific than that?”

“You know Filthy,” Seth had replied. “Guy still counts on his fingers. But five should probably do it.”

Ethan glanced across the aisle at Allie, who seemed mesmerized by the English teacher’s explanation of video transitions. That was the thing about Allie—she was always so accommodating, so aware of how others might be feeling that she couldn’t just turn herself off like everyone else did. He remembered going to her house one night and finding her watching a figure-skating championship through fingers spread in front of her eyes. Although she’d never skated herself, Allie loved watching it, loved the way the athletes used their bodies to translate music into movement. But each time a skater began gearing up for one of those difficult combinations, she put her hands in front of her eyes, blocking her view of the screen. When Ethan teased her about it, she’d explained that she couldn’t bear seeing the skaters fall. “It’s like I’m on those skates with them,” she told him. Watching her hands rise repeatedly to her face that evening, Ethan had found one more reason to fall in love with her.

Now, though, Ethan found that same empathy annoying. She’d never even met Boots, yet here she was forcing Ethan to give up a chunk of the cash he needed to get the very thing he’d been dreaming about for as long as he could remember.

Ethan suddenly became aware of silence, and he glanced around the room to see several faces turned in his direction, including Allie’s. She mouthed something to him that looked like
praying nation
, but what the hell did that have to do with anything? Standing at the front of the room, Moore-or-Less was staring at him, too, as though waiting for something. Well, let her wait, thought Ethan. He met her gaze and let the silence spool out until the students sitting around him began to grow
restless, whispering to each other. The teacher blinked first. “So, Ethan,” she said finally, “I gather from your silence that it doesn’t much matter to you one way or the other. Am I right?”

Ethan had no idea what she was talking about, so he took the option she’d offered him. “Right.”

She smiled. “Okay, then, we’ll plan to have you present yours first.”

Ethan’s eyes widened.

“I’m really glad it doesn’t matter to you, Ethan,” the teacher continued. “I was
hoping
there’d be people willing to share their work with the class.”

Now he knew the word Allie had been mouthing to him:
presentation
. Ethan felt his stomach clench. The only thing he disliked more than the crap Moore-or-Less got them to do was the ordeal of presenting that crap for everyone else to see. “Ms. Moore, I—”

“Thank you for volunteering, Ethan,” said the teacher, and he could see behind those ridiculous orange and green glasses a look that suggested she was enjoying herself. Really enjoying herself.

“It’s always a shame,” she continued, “when I’m the only person who gets to see the results of all that effort. I’d like to make presenting your profiles a requirement of the project but I want everyone to have enough time to do their best work, which is why it’s not due until just before the Christmas holidays. Since you’ll be working on other units at the same time, there aren’t enough class periods available for us to view everyone’s. However, I definitely want us to see a few, and I’m glad that Ethan has agreed to show us his first.”

“Look, I—”

“So, does anyone else want to present their profiles?” She scanned the class, and thirty pairs of eyes suddenly looked everywhere but at the front of the room. She nodded. “Okay, but if any of you change your mind, please let me know. This
assignment is an opportunity to reveal as much about yourselves as about the people whose profiles you’ll be compiling. I think it would be a terrific learning experience for all of us to see at least two or three more.”

As if on cue, the bell rang and everyone began packing up and heading to their next class. Everyone except Ethan, who remained in his seat. He needed a few moments alone with Moore-or-Less.

“I tried to warn you,” murmured Allie as she stood up.

He shrugged. “No worries. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Wait for you outside?” she asked.

“Nah, you go. Beaker’s probably handing out that quiz already. I won’t be long.”

She put her hand on his shoulder, squeezed it gently, then left.

Ethan pulled himself to his feet and walked to the front of the room, where the teacher was sorting the assignments she’d collected that period. Everyone else was gone now, and there was no sign of another class coming in. Good. “Ms. Moore?”

She didn’t look up. “Yes, Ethan?”

He wondered if she knew he’d be staying behind to talk to her. Probably. And this annoyed him as much as the way she’d tricked him into volunteering. “I’m not presenting my profile.”

She continued to sort papers, placing them into neat piles that, Ethan assumed, were arranged by last name. The teacher had a thing about alphabetical order. He could only imagine what her closets at home looked like.

“I said—”

“I heard you, Ethan.”

He watched as she finished sorting, then slid the assignments into her briefcase, a sleek blue rectangle with gleaming brass hardware. Ethan half expected it to have a Metropolitan Museum tag on it somewhere, but he didn’t see one. “So,” he said, “we clear on me not presenting?”

She lowered the lid of the briefcase and clicked it shut, then looked up at him. “How’s that assignment coming?”

For a moment he had no idea what she was talking about, but then he remembered: the
Find-out-what’s-important
assignment. “Oh,” he said, thinking of Filthy’s Cobra.
His
Cobra. “I got a handle on that one already.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” she said, and her words sounded genuine. “Care to talk about it?”

“I’m kind of in a hurry,” he said. “I think Mr. Becker’s giving a quiz.”

She nodded. “Another time then.”

“Look, about that presentation. I didn’t volunteer.”

“A roomful of people heard otherwise. Or, more specifically, heard you say it didn’t matter to you one way or the other.”

He hated that she was playing him. She knew he hadn’t been paying attention. Did she just want him to admit it? “I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Really.” The word was more statement than question.

“Yeah, so I’m not sharing any profile. Just wanted you to know, okay?” He turned and headed toward the door.

“Ethan?”

He’d reached the hallway by the time he looked back. “Yeah?”

“The presentation is on a volunteer basis only. I’d never force anyone to share it.” She took off her glasses and laid them on her briefcase. “But why not try stepping outside your comfort zone for once in your life? Show us what you can really do. Stretch yourself.”

Ethan swallowed the urge to tell her what
she
could do, something he was pretty sure would involve some stretching on her part, too. “I don’t want to be late for physics,” he said.

“No,” she said, “you certainly wouldn’t want that.” But there was something in her voice that suggested otherwise.

Screw you
, he thought, then left.