I walk back to my room after breakfast, making plans to meet up with Dutchy later for... well, I don't know what for. Point is, we're hanging out. I'm puttering around, getting ready to go take a shower, when Spot walks in.
"You stink," he says, climbing up onto his bed.
"Your face stinks," I reply. "I was running, what's your excuse?" Spot looks at me, his eyes hard and fiery. He mumbles something about kicking my sorry ass, but I know by now he's all bark and no bite.
Jack snorts and claps me on the back. "You got cojones, Specs."
I laugh and grab a towel, some clean clothes,and my shower shoes, and head off to the bathroom.
Today is going to be a very good day.
Dutchy and I sit in the courtyard, enjoying the sun while I draw a picture of him. It's turning out really well, but he keeps trying to peek at it.
"Would you stop?" I laugh, adding a superhero costume.
"Why?"
"It throws me off. It's like trying to take a leak when someone's watching you."
He chuckles. "Good analogy. You get ten points for that one."
"Why, thank you." I grin proudly. We sit in silence for a few minutes as I study him.
"So," he says finally, "if you're this good, how come you didn't start here freshman year?"
I shrug. "I didn't apply until the middle of first semester this year."
"And they let you in?"
"No, I infiltrated the school and am attending incognito."
Dutchy laughs loudly and shakes his head. "Man. They must think you're, like, the second coming of Christ, or something. They don't let anybody in middle of the year."
"I guess I'm just awfully special."
"I guess so."
"Finished." I sign the picture and carefully tear it out of my sketchbook, handing it to him. "You are Double Dutch, fearless defender of playground antics... Saving the world, one jump-rope at a time."
"Gee, thanks." He laughs again. "Here I was thinkin' I'd be something manly."
"Pfft," I say, shaking my head and trying to appear serious. "Double Dutch is the manliest son of a bitch that ever lived. Bitches love him."
This causes him to fall back on the grass, cackling. I grin, taking advantage of the fact that he can't see me checking him out. I stare for a few moments before he sits back up, a little bit breathless. Oh, there are so many other things I could do that would leave him like that.
But enough of that.
"What about you?"
"What about me?" He looks at me, a little confused.
"How'd you get here?" I lean back on my elbows, looking out over the nearly-empty courtyard.
"It's kind of embarrassing."
"How? I mean, I know you're here for photography and you're really good at it, so what's embarrassing about that?"
"Well," he says, leaning back beside me, "it's one of those things where if people knew about it, I'd never hear the end of it." Rolling his head back on his shoulders, he sighs. "My dad's a benefactor for the school... so I was guaranteed a spot. I didn't even have to apply, but I did anyway because I didn't want to feel like I was just here because of Daddy and his money."
"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. You're talented, that's what you're here for. You're not here because they want your father's money."
He smiles. "Thanks, Specs."
"Yeah." I smile back at him. Again, with the few minutes of silence. At least it's a comfortable silence. I pick up my drawing of Double Dutch, grab my colored pencils out of my backpack, and start coloring away.
After a few minutes, he speaks up. "Specs?"
"Yes." I don't look up from the drawing, but I am, in fact, paying full attention. I'm good at that.
"There's this movie opening on Friday, and I kinda wanna see it... except, I don't really wanna go by myself. I was thinking maybe you could come with me, and I could show you around the city."
"Why don't you take Sarah or some girl?"
"Because I don't want to?" He rolls onto his side and watches me color the picture, fascinated.
"Why, Mistah Visser," I say, attempting a Southern drawl, but my cliché New York accent kind of screws it up. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were asking me on a date."
He laughs, a little uncomfortably. "So you wanna go, or not? My treat."
"Sure."
He looks up at me and smiles, the sweetest little face I've ever seen. And he turns back to the picture, watching intently. "Cool. Friday it is, then."
Score!