Page 19 of Rebound With Me
I sigh. I’ve been sighing all morning.
“Well. What the hell right? What’s the worst that could happen? You’re what—thirty?”
“I’m twenty-seven.”
“You are?” She looks genuinely shocked by this news.
“Yes.”
“I thought we were around the same age.”
“I’m five years younger than you.”
“Wow.”
“Do I look like I’m in my thirties?”
“No. God no. You look nineteen. You’ve just always had a thirty-something vibe to you. Like, we always joke that you have a secret husband and five kids in Canada and you just work here during the school year.”
“You do? Who’s we? Is that really what people think of me?”
“Well, honey, it’s not an insult or anything. You’re just usually so proper. It’s about time you realized you don’t have to act like a first grade teacher every second of your life.”
I grin. “I said ‘fuck’ a bunch of times last night.”
“Oh I’ll bet you did. WhichOutsiderscharacter is he? Dallas, right? He’s straight-up Dallas Winston.”
This is a game we play. Whenever we have a troubled boy in our classes we try to figure out which character fromThe Outsidershe is. I get a lot of Ponyboys and Johnnys in the first grade and by the time they get to her fourth grade class, they’re Steve Randles.
I had such a crush on Matt Dillon and Dallas Winston when I was thirteen, but I told people that Ponyboy was my favorite.
“He was probably a Dally when he was younger, but he’s got those Johnny Cade eyes.”
“Right,” she says, nodding emphatically. “The eyes.” She pulls out her phone and brings up the picture I sent her last night.
“Sodapop,” we both say at the same time.
Dreamy.
“Yeah.” She finally puts her phone back in her hidden pocket. “Sodapop.”
“Yeah.” I stretch my arms up and yawn, reach for the coffee.
“You gonna come for a run with me?”
“Um. I mean, I don’t know if or when he’s going to show up, so…I should probably hang around here.”
“Can’t you text him?”
My face falls.
“He didn’t give you his number?”
“I don’t even know his last name.”
“Wow. So you really might not see him again.”
I pout.
