Chapter 22

Free Donuts

Prunella was not an early riser, as evidenced by her tired eyes and groggy voice when she showed up at Alan's house for yoga Saturday morning. Alan had thanked her profusely for coming over a couple of hours ahead of schedule so he could beat the infamous Saturday lines at the DMV. Technically, he had all day to take the knowledge test, but he was eager to get it over with and free up the rest of his Saturday, but for what he was not entirely certain.

Likewise, George had been eager to accommodate when returning the chessboard, though Alan suspected he was proud of his work and wanted to show it off, even though he would never admit it. That, or he wanted to eliminate the task, eliminate the distraction because he, George, was eagerly anticipating the school dance. More than once this past week, he had mentioned pressing his good white shirt and practicing his dance moves, always pointing out that part was difficult without a partner but he had tried his best. Perhaps he was going home to practice some more. Whatever the case, George had arrived thirty minutes ago, looking happy and far more energetic than anyone with whom Alan had crossed paths this morning.

For so long, the image of the damaged corner had been burned into his memory, and it was a startling contrast to see the board restored and refinished, looking just as it had the day Mr. And Mrs. Fox had given it to him. Minutes before Prunella arrived, Alan had taken it to his room, sat on his bed and looked it over, still hardly believing what he saw. If a stranger looked upon the board, someone who knew nothing of its past, what damage had been done to it, he was sure they would not be able to discern anything out of the ordinary. He himself had to look intensively to see the tiny fissures separating the filler from the original organic material. Nevertheless, they were there, small reminders of the big mistake he had made, mementos of what his carelessness had cost. Never again, he had thought, tamping down the emotions that stirred in his chest. Prunella would be here far too soon for that. Right now was the time to focus and relax. Today, as soon as he had time, he would find a safe place to keep the board. From now on, he would take good care of it and keep it from harm.

"The Autumn Ball is today, isn't it?" said Prunella through a yawn as she and Alan set up their mats in his parents' garage, free of vehicles, warming to a yoga-friendly temperature with the aid of a space heater. "Do honors students still get free tickets?"

"Yeah," Alan said, thinking of the printable voucher his mother had received in an email from MCM, "but I don't know if I'm going."

"Well, it's nothing compared to homecoming," she said, with an air of the elitism that cropped up anytime she mentioned her high school status, "not if you're looking for a real school dance. But if you're in it for the lulz, I say go."

"Lulz?" said Alan.

"It was one of the most hilarious things I witnessed my entire eighth-grade year," she said, stifling a giggle. "Apparently, it's always promoted as this big event, but it ends up being one big flop, and from what I saw, that's absolutely true."

"What went wrong?"

"It's more like what when right in conjunction with what went wrong that made it so funny. I'll set the scene for you. The gym is nicely decorated, right? You've heard about the fake trees? There's mood lighting, snacks, the infamous Golden Punch, and DJ Phat Stacks playing all his fist-pumping jams… Pretty cool, huh? Then you've got the students, parted like the Red Sea—girls on one side of the gym and boys on the other, or the cliques and people who actually brought dates have splintered off from the crowd—and everyone is standing around, awkward and afraid to move. I totally didn't mind being a wallflower. Popcorn was the only thing that would've made the afternoon better."

"Wow," said Alan. The first thought that came to his mind was, "Muffy will be disappointed—she's been talking about the ball since summer."

"Oh, yeah, she'll hate it, especially since she never got a date."

"She didn't? Did she tell you that?" Alan hoped Prunella was not going to say she had divined that bit of knowledge. He assumed that, if anyone was sure to take a partner to the Autumn Ball, it would be Muffy.

"Aren't you ever on Facebook?" she said.

"Not a lot." Especially not lately, he was not.

"Every other post she's made has been some countdown reminder that the ball is coming up, and people—i.e., boys—need to be sure to snag a date before it's too late. It's as desperate as she can be without being overtly desperate. I give her a good half hour before she bails and runs to the mall to soothe herself with retail therapy and a Cinnabon."

"A tad harsh, don't you think?"

"Not trying to be mean; just calling it like I see it. As for you, go or don't go. It's up to you." She unzipped her coat and tossed it over his father's tool chest and added, her voice serene now as if she had turned it on with a switch, "Ready to warm up?"

His second yoga class yielded a confusing mix of invigoration and relaxation, just as it had last week, and by the time they had reached Shavasana, Alan felt ready to tackle the knowledge test as well as whatever else the day held. He focused on his breathing and listened as Prunella guided him through the pose…

"What's with the show-and-tell?"

Alan was on the bench at World's End again. Next to him sat Lydia, draped in a dark, flowing purple dress. The air around them was crisp, breezy, and the trees looked to be on fire as the sun shone on their yellow, brown, and orange leaves. Some of the leaves loosened with the occasional gusts, and they fluttered to the ground around them. In Alan's lap was the restored chessboard. He had never brought a prop into a dream before. He had also never caught on to the fact he was dreaming this early before, but he answered Lydia's question.

"George returned it a couple of hours ago. I suppose it's been on my mind ever since."

"Well, it looks great, almost like it never happened."

"I promise I'm going to take care of it."

"Meaning you're going to store it away in your closet again."

"Yes, but at the top, with respect. I was thinking of keeping it wrapped in a towel or a pillowcase."

"Alan… It's not meant to be stored away."

Her eyes twinkled with amusement, but they bored into his. Alan squirmed in his seat. "I'm following your lead. You barely played with it when it was yours."

"But it's not mine anymore. You don't have to keep it in bubble wrap. Enjoy it. Share it. Pass it on."

"Pass it on? To whom?"

"I assume you'll have children one day."

How absurd. "I can't conceive of anyone else. Ever."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Did you conceive of me? Before you met me, did you ever imagine falling for a cute little Irish girl?"

Truth be told, he had not. "That's supposed to prove some point?"

"Nothing too deep, only that I'm right." Lydia stood. "I've really gotta go. Have fun with your test, Zen Master."

She took only a couple of steps then stopped when Alan protested. "Wait! How do you know about the test? How do you know…that nickname?"

"Remember? I know everything you know."

"Right… Then answer me this: If you know everything I know, why won't you tell me what this is all about?"

Lydia paused, appearing to think it over, then she turned and kept walking. Everything around Alan was fading. "That's just it," she called over her shoulder. "Maybe you don't know. Not yet."

"But, Lydia—"

"Aren't you supposed to be in yoga class…?"

"I'm not asleep!" Alan said with a gasp, waking up on his mat, still sweaty.

"Ah! Neither am I!" Prunella yelped, sitting bolt upright.

Alan wondered how long they had been out as both he and Prunella took a few seconds to fully come to their senses. He checked his watch. By his estimation, it had been somewhere around five to ten minutes.

"Sorry," Prunella groaned, rubbing her eyes. "I did say it still happens to me sometimes, especially this early."

"Yeah…" Alan said. He took a deep breath through his nose. He needed to get oxygen to his brain, needed to clear his head and come back to reality. "Yeah, you did say that…"

"Well…" Prunella yawned again, then placed her palms together in a prayer-like gesture, drawing her thumbs in toward her heart. "That concludes today's class. Namaste."

Once Prunella had packed up and put on her coat, Alan raised the garage door.

"Thanks again for coming here this early," he told her over the humming of the gears.

"Glad to help," she said. "It's helping, isn't it?"

"Admittedly, I think I enjoy it."

"Are you okay? You're a lot quieter than before class started. You look kind of worried."

"Um…" Though not exactly worried, Alan was still pondering his most recent perplexing dream. While he figured he needed to talk to someone about his dreams, he did not think it wise to involve Prunella Deegan. For now, he would only consult with her on the matter of child's pose and Chaturanga. "I guess it's a bit early for me, too—Mr. Crosswire?"

"Hi-ya, Alan!" Mr. Crosswire said, walking briskly up the driveway toward the now open garage. His car sat parked next to the curb, idling and spewing steamy exhaust into the cold and quiet morning air. Donning a thick wool coat and a wide and cheerful smile, he carried a white rectangular box, the kind often used by bakeries. "Perfect timing, or what? Hello, Prunella! Hope you kids are hungry cause I've got a dozen of the best donuts in town for ya. Some of them are even still warm!"

"Um, I…" Alan said, barely comprehending the situation as Mr. Crosswire handed the box over to him. "Thank you?"

"My pleasure. You enjoy and share some with your folks. I'd stick around, but I've got a few more stops to make. Have a great weekend!"

With that, Mr. Crosswire left for his car. He was gone in a matter of seconds. Alan looked to Prunella, who was staring down the street after Mr. Crosswire's car, her mouth agape. She looked back to Alan with an expression that begged to know what had just happened.

"I'm…just as confused as you are," Alan said. "Would you like a donut?"

To be continued…