Page 32 of Script Swap
Chapter 7
“We’ll take it from here” was the politest thing the sheriff said to me.
The rest of it was, well, energetic.Forceful.And full of explanations.Even after I told the sheriff my theory about the missing murder weapon.
When the sheriff finally let me slink away, Bobby was waiting under one of the old pines.
“You okay?”he asked as he opened the cruiser door for me.
I nodded.
“She’s stressed,” Bobby said as we drove out of the parking lot.
“She’s right to be mad,” I said.“I shouldn’t have opened that window.”
“I thought you told the sheriff the window was already open.”Bobby put up his hands.“Never mind.Retracted.”
We drove a while longer.We passed a rhododendron with massive pink blossoms, and a squirrel darted out in front of us (note: Bobby didn’t panic and slam on the brakes, the way I would have), and down in a wash, a pair of kids were shooting each other with Nerf guns.
“I know this is going to sound crazy,” I said.“But I can’t help seeing myself in him.And not because he was cast to play me and sort of looks like me.”
“He doesn’t look anything like you,” Bobby said.
Which was actually weirdly flattering.“But I get it, I mean, you have this dream, and you want it, but your parents want it even more than you do, and you’re still young enough that you believe if you stick it out, pay your dues, it’s going to happen.It’s all going to work out.You’re going to be the lucky one, the one who beats the odds.”I rubbed my forehead and leaned back.“God, it’s so much easier when you’re twenty.”
Bobby rubbed my leg.
“I was standing there, and it was like—like I couldn’t think straight anymore.Someonekilledhim, Bobby.And he was a kid.I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I kept thinking about how someone had to find out what happened to him, and then I thought that even if the sheriff did let me help, it would be hours and hours later, and—and I knew not to do it, and I did it anyway.Which takes me to my encore performance of: She’s right to be mad, I shouldn’t have opened that window.”
And then Bobby Mai said theleastBobby Mai thing ever: “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m sorry, say that again.”
That earned me some slanted eyebrows.
“Kidding,” I said.
“If you need to talk, Dash, I know I’m not the best at expressing myself.But I can listen.And I can be there for you.”
“No, it’s okay.I mean, I didn’t even know Kyson.It was…just weird, I guess.”
“I didn’t mean Kyson.”
“You didn’t?Wait, what are you talking about?”
Bobby hesitated.“We can talk about whatever you want to talk about.Whatever you’re feeling.”
God, if I didn’t love him with every ounce of my little gay heart already.Bobby Mai, man of mystery—and reserve, and self-control—who was now inviting me to share my feelings with him.
I found his hand, still on my leg, and squeezed it.“I’m okay.Thank you, though.It means a lot to me that you asked.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he did let it drop.
The afternoon wasn’t any more of a success.First, I tried to freak Keme out by telling him Slender Man stories.(He said he wasn’t scared, but you could tell he was.) Bobby ruined it by texting me to ask what I was doing.Then I tried playing Xbox.Halfway through a game ofFortnite, Bobby texted me, quote,to check in.So, I went upstairs to our room.I tried to veg out with some mindless reality TV.Love is Blindwas always a hit.I’d started my second episode of the afternoon (the unfortunate couples were about to meet each other’s parents) when Bobby texted.Again.
How’s writing going?
I screamed into my pillow for a while.
