M.I.A.

Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

Sydney

"All I'm saying is that I think Kerouac is a genius," Matt is saying.

Nick rolls his eyes as he dusts cigarette ashes to the ground. "Spare me your fan-girl fodder, Matt."

"Ah come on," Matt says, his bloodshot eyes glancing expectantly between me and Nick. When neither of us responds, he drops his own cigarette with a sigh and stomps it under one of his Birkenstocks. "Whatever. I gotta get home. See you tomorrow."

I wait until he's in his car and driving away before I finally let myself relax. "Finally," I breathe, "I thought he'd never leave. I know he's your friend but seriously, he's-"

"Pretentious?" Nick offers, grinning at me behind his fingers as he takes another drag.

I grin back. "Exactly." I look away, examining the mostly empty parking lot for Mia's silver Nissan. Still nothing. Uncomfortable in the intense heat, I shift butt cheek to butt cheek, trying to unstick my shorts from my thighs.

Nick finishes his cigarette and drops it to the asphalt, letting it burn out between our feet. "She's late today," he reflects.

I nod, it's too hot to talk much. And we don't really need to talk. The quiet comfort between Nick and I is how I know things are right with the world. I finish my own cigarette, burning it down to the filter before flicking it against someone's car.

"I'm starving," Nick reflects.

Biting the inside of my lip, I mull around in my side-bag with the Wisdom Eyes on it, searching for something to nibble on. I dig down deep, past the lighter and the bowl and that hemp bracelet that I keep meaning to put back on but never do.

I've usually got—ah! "Here." I hand him one of the mostly-smashed fortune cookies from the Chinese we got last week when we were studying for our English test. I bought it, of course. It was the least I could do for him since he practically failed on purpose to be with me during summer school. He knows I'd never pass without him there to light a fire under my ass. I feel awful that he does things like that, he could be in honors if he wanted—go to an Ivy League. But, at the same time, I kind of like it.

Nick unwraps the cookie, dumps the crumbs into his palm and chucks them into his mouth. As he chews, he looks at his fortune and his full mouth turns down.

"What does it say?" I try to see it, but his large hands block most of it and what I can see of the red print is indecipherable in the bright light.

"Great misfortune awaits you."

"In bed," I add.

He narrows an eye at me, calculating. "These things are never right."

"You never know. I know where you sleep. One of these days I might decide to shank you." I elbow him playfully.

He squirms away and bats at my arm. "What's yours?"

I turn my attention to my own cookie, carefully opening it and taking only about half of the crumbs out and chewing them before fishing the folded paper out of the clear cellophane. I always eat half the cookie before I read the fortune. I don't know why. I swallow and look down at the fortune.

"You see things that others can not." I grimace.

"In bed," Nick breathes in my ear.