Where the Seams Meet by Patrick Holcomb

Author:Patrick Holcomb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Acorn Publishing

Chapter 12

Age 12

January 6, 1993

“So, that’s your brilliant advice?” Danny slid his Pepsi and Twix bar across the convenience store’s counter, then gave Rory Pryor an exaggerated eye roll. “Just be honest.”

Danny shook his head in mock disappointment. Coming from the guy who always prided himself on being the smartest kid in the room, Danny expected something better. Something more useful than the kind of crap you’d hear from an ABC Afterschool Special.

“Well . . . they say it’s the best policy,” Rory added lamely, shrugging his narrow shoulders, and offering his usual tight-lipped smile. “Hey, can you cover mine, too?” Rory’s sharp blue eyes darted between the Snickers bar in his hand and the disinterested clerk behind the store counter. “I’m a little short on cash today.”

In truth, Rory was almost always short on cash. Like the uneven rows of teeth hidden behind his closed-mouth smile, or the fact that he slept on a second-hand couch in the one-bedroom apartment he shared with his mother, it was a point he took great pains to hide. But on those rare occasions when money did come his way, usually limited to Christmas and his birthday, Rory Pryor was generous to a fault.

“Will that be all?” the clerk asked, one pudgy hand rising slowly toward his mouth as he made a lazy attempt to stifle a yawn.

Danny nodded to the clerk, who had already shifted his attention back to the small wall-mounted TV and whatever fake courtroom show he’d been watching when they came in. He rummaged through the jumbled mess of pencils, erasers, and assorted trash in the small front pocket of his JanSport, handed over exact change, then grabbed their items off the counter without waiting for a receipt.

“This is going on your tab, you know,” Danny warned, addressing Rory in a deep baritone, his best imitation of his father. He handed Rory his candy bar, rearranging his features into a judgmental frown as they walked from the store. “There’s no such thing as a free lunch, kid.”

They both laughed at the impersonation, which Danny had been perfecting for months and even Rory agreed was spot-on. Besides his Arnold Schwarzenegger imitation—which he often performed in class, to the amusement of his friends and annoyance of his teachers—it was definitely his favorite. That said, he’d yet to audition this new parody for his father, and he wasn’t planning to anytime soon.

“You don’t think he’ll believe you?” Rory asked, returning to the topic of Danny’s latest detention slip, which had been awarded by Mr. Feasel when he booted Danny from English class earlier that day. “I mean, you really didn’t do anything . . . right?”

“Right,” Danny confirmed, doubling down on the half-truth he’d told Rory inside the store. He squinted as they stepped into the watered-down sunlight of the brisk winter afternoon, considered telling Rory the rest of the story, then decided to save his breath, knowing that Rory’s advice would remain unchanged. “But good luck explaining that to my dad.”

Danny stopped for a beat to pull the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

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