The Precious Dreadful by Steven Parlato

Author:Steven Parlato [Parlato, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

19

After the pond, I’m close to calling Willa, but as I imagine rehashing the Aidan fiasco, I admit I haven’t got the energy for it. Or for Willa’s reaction, which will almost certainly be as dramatic as the event itself. Instead, I commence drowning sorrow in Forever Fudge. Flatulence be damned.

The sugar crash finally hits. Hard. I conk, and I’m out ’til early afternoon when Willa calls, to discuss a “semi-big matter.” She feigns chipper, but I can tell something major’s up. Ironically, she suggests we meet for ice cream. Pocketing some lactose pills, I slip through Bren’s den without alerting mother bear, and head to Sprinkles.

Slouched in her plastic chair, it’s obvious Praline Pirouette’s not sufficient to lift Willa’s spirits.

When I ask, “What’s your parasite?” friend-code for “What’s eating you?” Willa just grunts, shoveling a spoonful.

Scooping whipped cream with a peanut butter cup, I ask, “Is it Nicky, Wills?”

She slams her spoon on the plexi tabletop with force enough to snap it in two. “Wow, who died and made you clairvoyant?”

“It doesn’t take a mind reader. Your face is a billboard. What’s up? Is he still obsessed with the show?”

Shoulders shaking, Willa struggles to swallow a glob of butterscotch without choking. Then she answers. “He’s obsessed, but not with the play.”

“What do you mean? Don’t tell me he’s fallen for a costar. That’d be entirely too predictable.”

“I wish it were that simple.”

Magenta splotches each of Willa’s cheeks. Fighting the urge to call her Raggedy Ann, I reach across the table. She resists, fingers curling into a stiff fist, but, refusing to let go, I hold her hand.

Breaking down, she blurts, “I’ve lost him, Teddi. And I don’t know if I want him back.”

“How, Willa? And why?”

She shakes her head, black ringlets sproinging, and says, “Dick.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“He’s a dick, Teddi. Nic the Dick.” She gets up, pitching her half-eaten ice cream into the trash. Returning, she spreads a napkin on the tabletop and sags, resting her face against it.

I wait for her to speak. When she doesn’t, I spread a napkin next to hers and lay my head alongside. Touching my nose to Willa’s, I say, “Talk to me.”

She groans. “Oh, T Bear, what’s the point? It’ll just upset you.”

Straightening in my seat, I pull her upright. “Willa, why are you worrying about my feelings? If I can help, that’s what counts! Besides, you’ve spent more than your share of time lately listening to me gripe about Aidan.”

At the mention of his name, my heart hiccups, and oddly, Willa’s cheek patches darken. As she bites her bottom lip, a fresh tear plinks from her chin, seeping into her napkin.

Swiping the next tear with my thumb, I say, “What is it, Wills?”

“Aidan—”

Over the shushing sound in my ears, I ask, “What about him?”

Breath shivering out in a thin stream, Willa studies the tabletop and says, “Nic is, like, fixated on Aidan or something.”

“Fixated?”

“Yeah, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he’s obsessed with your boyfriend.”

I resist joking that’s one more thing they have in common, because she’s genuinely bugged.

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