Kindling the Moon
Page 41
“Is Jack your best friend or something?” I settled the popcorn between us and scooped up a handful.
Jupe shrugged. “I guess. Jack’s Japanese. The rest of the kids in my class are either white, black, or Latino. Jack and me are the only ones that don’t fit in.”
“Jack and I.”
“Whatever, Jack and I—God, you sound like my dad.”
“Why does it matter what race the other kids are?”
Jupe tore into the popcorn, spilling more than he grabbed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re white.”
“So? My oldest friend is Chinese and she’s demon. My coworkers and friends are all different races and cultures. Nobody cares anymore.”
“Maybe it’s different in Morella,” Jupe said in a preachy voice, “but in my town, once you get to junior high, everything changes. People that used to be friends … well, they just aren’t anymore. Everyone’s got their own groups, and I don’t fit into any of them.”
“Because of your race?”
He shrugged. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know. It’s not like they hate me or anything. It’s just, well, it’s easier for Jack and me to understand each other because we’re both different. He’s the only Asian kid in my class. Most of the Asian kids in La Sirena go to private school. Jack and I have been friends forever—like two years. He taught me all about Toho movies.”
“Huh?”
“Toho. They made the Godzilla pictures—please tell me you know about Godzilla,” he said in an impatient voice that told me if I didn’t say yes, I was the most uncool person on the planet.
“Godzilla’s some kind of flying squirrel, right?”
“What?” His jaw flapped open.
“Joking! I know who Godzilla is.”
“Whoa,” he said, crunching a mouthful of popcorn. “Foa secon there ithaw I—”
“Wait until you finish eating. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
He tried to laugh, but popcorn stuck in his throat and he choked instead. I patted his back to help him out. “Okay there, kid?”
Finally getting the food down the right tube, he said, “I haven’t had popcorn in forever. My dad never lets me get it because I always eat it too fast.”
“Oops.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell him you bought it for me. Or the candy. I’m not allowed to have sugar, like, ever. Only on special occasions.” His big, green eyes glittered with restrained humor.
“Double oops.”
He reconsidered with a mischievous grin. “Actually, if you maybe want to take me to another movie next week, I’ll be extra careful not to accidentally let any of it slip out.”
“Well, Jupiter, movie or no movie next week, I’ll be sure not to tell him that you said ‘fuck’ back at the concession stand in front of the cashier,” I countered.
He laughed and held out a buttery hand for me to shake. “You win, deal. Oh, the movie’s starting. Can I turn up the radio now?”
While Jupe gave me a running commentary, which included telling me everything before it happened, we ate all the popcorn and half the candy during the first half of the movie. I let him have the rest of my Coke after he slurped down all of his. When the creature got captured, we booed at the screen, along with all the other moviegoers parked on our row. Then I got a text message from Lon; we texted back and forth a couple of times.
From Lon, 10:12 PM: IS J BEHAVING?
ALL IS WELL. HOWS YR DATE?
From Lon, 10:14 PM: GONE. NOT A DATE.
BOOTY CALL. WHATEV.
From Lon, 10:14 PM: SHES A COWORKER, NOT A HO.
I snorted a soft laugh after that one. Jupe tried to see what I was typing, but I held the phone out of his reach and thrust the rest of the box of Raisinets in his hand. Eat up, my soon-to-be-diabetic friend.
HO OR NO, NONE OF MY BEESWAX.
From Lon, 10:15 PM: REALLY NOT A DATE. SERIOUSLY.
NEITHER IS MINE. GUESS WE’RE EVEN.
I didn’t get a response to that, but at least my jealousy had calmed. He may not have been attracted to me, but at least he cared what I thought about his extracurricular activities. I interpreted that to mean that he had a certain amount of respect for me. Even so, I figured that I better reel in my feelings—and fast—or I was just going to get hurt, and I didn’t have time for that.
A few minutes later, during the climax of the movie, a small flaw appeared on the film, obscuring the face of the creature. “Crap!” Jupe said. “This blows. How did a pink spot get on a black-and-white print? This is the best part of the whole stupid—”
We both yelped. The film wasn’t pink; the air in front of the car was. Jupe scooted backward into the SUV, kicking the empty popcorn tub onto the pavement. “Holy shit!” he whispered in fright, just as I realized what it was.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, putting my hand on his feet. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s nothing bad. Just my servitor.”
He looked at me with crazy eyes. “Your what-a-tor?”
“My servitor.” I quickly dug around my coat pocket and retrieved the clay doll that anchored the spell. “It’s not an imp or anything.” I held the doll in my open palm and we watched as the tiny pink figure bobbed and floated through the air, then slowly filtered into the doll while the spell was absorbed back into its anchor; within seconds it had completely disappeared.
Jupe shrugged. “I guess. Jack’s Japanese. The rest of the kids in my class are either white, black, or Latino. Jack and me are the only ones that don’t fit in.”
“Jack and I.”
“Whatever, Jack and I—God, you sound like my dad.”
“Why does it matter what race the other kids are?”
Jupe tore into the popcorn, spilling more than he grabbed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re white.”
“So? My oldest friend is Chinese and she’s demon. My coworkers and friends are all different races and cultures. Nobody cares anymore.”
“Maybe it’s different in Morella,” Jupe said in a preachy voice, “but in my town, once you get to junior high, everything changes. People that used to be friends … well, they just aren’t anymore. Everyone’s got their own groups, and I don’t fit into any of them.”
“Because of your race?”
He shrugged. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know. It’s not like they hate me or anything. It’s just, well, it’s easier for Jack and me to understand each other because we’re both different. He’s the only Asian kid in my class. Most of the Asian kids in La Sirena go to private school. Jack and I have been friends forever—like two years. He taught me all about Toho movies.”
“Huh?”
“Toho. They made the Godzilla pictures—please tell me you know about Godzilla,” he said in an impatient voice that told me if I didn’t say yes, I was the most uncool person on the planet.
“Godzilla’s some kind of flying squirrel, right?”
“What?” His jaw flapped open.
“Joking! I know who Godzilla is.”
“Whoa,” he said, crunching a mouthful of popcorn. “Foa secon there ithaw I—”
“Wait until you finish eating. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
He tried to laugh, but popcorn stuck in his throat and he choked instead. I patted his back to help him out. “Okay there, kid?”
Finally getting the food down the right tube, he said, “I haven’t had popcorn in forever. My dad never lets me get it because I always eat it too fast.”
“Oops.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell him you bought it for me. Or the candy. I’m not allowed to have sugar, like, ever. Only on special occasions.” His big, green eyes glittered with restrained humor.
“Double oops.”
He reconsidered with a mischievous grin. “Actually, if you maybe want to take me to another movie next week, I’ll be extra careful not to accidentally let any of it slip out.”
“Well, Jupiter, movie or no movie next week, I’ll be sure not to tell him that you said ‘fuck’ back at the concession stand in front of the cashier,” I countered.
He laughed and held out a buttery hand for me to shake. “You win, deal. Oh, the movie’s starting. Can I turn up the radio now?”
While Jupe gave me a running commentary, which included telling me everything before it happened, we ate all the popcorn and half the candy during the first half of the movie. I let him have the rest of my Coke after he slurped down all of his. When the creature got captured, we booed at the screen, along with all the other moviegoers parked on our row. Then I got a text message from Lon; we texted back and forth a couple of times.
From Lon, 10:12 PM: IS J BEHAVING?
ALL IS WELL. HOWS YR DATE?
From Lon, 10:14 PM: GONE. NOT A DATE.
BOOTY CALL. WHATEV.
From Lon, 10:14 PM: SHES A COWORKER, NOT A HO.
I snorted a soft laugh after that one. Jupe tried to see what I was typing, but I held the phone out of his reach and thrust the rest of the box of Raisinets in his hand. Eat up, my soon-to-be-diabetic friend.
HO OR NO, NONE OF MY BEESWAX.
From Lon, 10:15 PM: REALLY NOT A DATE. SERIOUSLY.
NEITHER IS MINE. GUESS WE’RE EVEN.
I didn’t get a response to that, but at least my jealousy had calmed. He may not have been attracted to me, but at least he cared what I thought about his extracurricular activities. I interpreted that to mean that he had a certain amount of respect for me. Even so, I figured that I better reel in my feelings—and fast—or I was just going to get hurt, and I didn’t have time for that.
A few minutes later, during the climax of the movie, a small flaw appeared on the film, obscuring the face of the creature. “Crap!” Jupe said. “This blows. How did a pink spot get on a black-and-white print? This is the best part of the whole stupid—”
We both yelped. The film wasn’t pink; the air in front of the car was. Jupe scooted backward into the SUV, kicking the empty popcorn tub onto the pavement. “Holy shit!” he whispered in fright, just as I realized what it was.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, putting my hand on his feet. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s nothing bad. Just my servitor.”
He looked at me with crazy eyes. “Your what-a-tor?”
“My servitor.” I quickly dug around my coat pocket and retrieved the clay doll that anchored the spell. “It’s not an imp or anything.” I held the doll in my open palm and we watched as the tiny pink figure bobbed and floated through the air, then slowly filtered into the doll while the spell was absorbed back into its anchor; within seconds it had completely disappeared.
