Some Place Better Than Here

Chapter 15: September

Danny looked at me, then at my homie, Mike, and grunted. "Um, who's this," he asked, gesturing towards Mike, then looked back at me. "Girlfriend?"

"My homie, Mike. He invited us to go drink Palm Bays with him."

And with that, I heard my homie mutter, "bitch" under his breath as he punched his "Rolex" hand back in his pocket and stormed away.

"Uh," Danny mumbled, "should I even ask?"

"Uh, nope! Thanks for being my pretend boyfriend though." I unlatched myself from his arm and skipped ahead with SpongeBob.

I expected Danny to be behind me, but when I spun around, he was just staring, looking almost as dumb as Mike.

I could hear the murmur of the waves on the beach below, the late night tide swelling and crashing.

We entered a staring contest. Neither one of us wanted to budge. Danny eventually shrugged his shoulders and turned away to face the black ocean, leaning his forearms on the railing.

I knew this time Danny wasn't going to surrender; he wouldn't give in tonight. As I began walking towards him, holding SpongeBob by his long nose, Danny looked over and stared at me as I approached, as if paralyzed by an apparition.

"Danny," I said, stepping in front of him. Talking quietly so the conversation was only for us. "Why did you, like, first ever start talking to me?"

His eyes flickered with the jerk of his head. He took a step back.

"Uh. Well, um—truthfully?"

"Yeah, tell me. Truthfully."

Danny's face went red. "I dunno. I thought you were—well. I thought you were beautiful."

"Ah."

"Ah nothing, Mary. Maybe you should ask me why I still—for whatever reason that is—talk to you?"

"Okay. Why do you keep on talking to me?" I asked.

Danny opened his mouth, but no words or sounds came out. He blushed, thinning his lips, and then turned his head away. His eyes were cast out towards the ocean as it crashed, rose and fell, inhaled and exhaled. Like this game Danny and I played with each other. A ceaseless cycle we couldn't break. A dark cloud drifting across the sky caught the moon's glow in its haze, bleeding the color like a painting dropped in water. The ubiquitous sounds of the carnival continued to jangle and spring about, and the alluring smell of sugar and cinnamon from a churro stand not too far off competed with the musky humidity. Danny was still looking off at the ocean when the cloud passed from underneath the moon, bringing back the luminance that subtly highlighted the railing.

"Danny? Why do you keep talking to me?"

"Well, because we're friends, right? You said it yourself."

"Good!" I gripped his shoulders. "You're right!"

I turned and walked away, clenching my face. Looking up at Danny's stupid barely visible stars above the aurora of light pollution, I wondered if any of those dim dots were Venus.

I turned back around once more, and yet again, saw that Squeegee Boy was refusing to behave and follow me like a puppy dog—the way all boys were supposed to behave. He was trying to be all dramatic, staring out at the ocean like he was blue-balled as all hell. I called for him. He wagged his tail over. Good boy.

Soon after, the whatever pointless dramatic episode of the teen drama show Danny had been re-enacting was over, and we were normal again, like real people on reality TV. Despite the fact that I refused to let Danny spend any more money on my broke-ass, he stubbornly blew through a fifty-dollar bill on those shitty games and got himself a pop, and me my churro.