Megan wanted to wrap her arms around her body to cover it.
Finally he nodded. “Okay.”
“Great.” It sounded way too enthusiastic. She repeated in a less spunky tone, “Great.”
This young man was so self-possessed he made her feel like a child. He strolled toward the restaurant
with long, easy strides. Megan had to walk quickly to keep up.
She sat across from him in the booth, torn vinyl scratching the back of her legs. Inside the diner, she
could see the boy more clearly than in patches of neon and shadow. His eyes seemed a brighter shade of
blue in the fluorescent light. He scanned the menu and placed his order. The strappy, once-white T-shirt
he wore showed off his well-defined arm muscles when he passed the menu back to the waitress. The
material of the shirt molded to his chest, outlining the bump of each nipple pressing against it.
Megan quickly lifted her gaze back to his face.
He stared at her, eyes flat an
d calm as a lake on a hot summer day.
She could read nothing in them and wondered what he could possibly be thinking of her.
“You have questions?” he prompted.
“Oh, uh, right.” Megan pulled out her notebook and a small recorder from her purse. “You don’t mind if
I tape this? It’s easier than writing everything down.”
He considered a moment then nodded.
She pressed the button and spoke. “Interview with…Mouth. White male, age…?”
“Seventeen.”
“Can you tell me a little about your family and your parents?”
“There was just my mom.” He didn’t offer anything else. Megan began to understand why Ricky had
laughed when he suggested Mouth for an interview. He wasn’t a talker.
“How did you come to be on your own?”
“My mom was an addict. After we got evicted, there didn’t seem to be much point in sticking around
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anymore. I could take care of myself better than she could.”
“You didn’t have any relatives to stay with?”
“No. I stayed at a friend’s place for a while, but I couldn’t live there forever. Then I hooked up with
some other kids who live in this abandoned building.”