I pointed at the bus. She said, “You want a ride?”
“Really?” I couldn’t have been more surprised if she had asked if I wanted another head.
“Really,” she said. So I followed her into the senior parking lot and climbed into the Miata. Ashley tended to drive too fast and tailgate, but the top was down, the afternoon was sunny, and she was tan, so I could live with it.
“We had this neighbor in Ohio where I grew up,” I said, raising my voice to overcome the rush of wind. “This old lady who took in every stray dog in the neighborhood.”
“Why?”
“She felt sorry for them.”
“You think I feel sorry for you?”
I shrugged.
“Don’t you think you’re a little young to be so cynical, Alfred?”
“Girls like you don’t usually notice guys like me,” I answered. “Much less eat lunch with them and give them a ride home.”
“Maybe I think you’re interesting. Hey, I’m starving,” she said. “You want to swing through Steak-N-Shake?”
She didn’t wait for an answer but pulled into the drive-through lane and ordered two large chocolate shakes, two double burgers, and two large fries.
After our order arrived, she pulled into a parking place beneath the explosion of red leaves of a Bradford pear tree. The milk shake made me shiver and gave me one of those stabbing pains behind the eyeball. Ashley ate that burger and those fries like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She wasn’t the first thin girl I’d known who could do that.
“You’re really tan,” I said. “Aren’t you afraid of getting skin cancer?”
“I live for the sun,” she said, which I took to mean she didn’t give a flip about skin cancer.
“My mom died of skin cancer,” I said.
“Your mom is dead too?”
I nodded. “My mom. My dad. My uncle.”
“I guess I’ve lived a sheltered life,” Ashley said. “I’ve never had anything like that happen to me. I mean, your mom and dad and your uncle.”
“Oh, it was more than just them. I’ve lost count now. No, that’s a lie; I count ’em up all the time. I’ve never told anybody this except my therapist, who doesn’t count, but I died too.”
“You died?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but I came back—only sometimes I feel like a zombie, but I don’t have any interest in eating people and I dress better. I guess that’s the price I have to pay for sticking around. You know how spiders eat by sucking the juices out of their prey? The body or husk or whatever stays, but all the life’s been sucked out. That’s how I feel. Husk-o’-Kropp.”
She took a long pull from her shake, studying me over the straw.
“Alfred,” she said softly, “nothing ever stays the same. It’ll get better.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re a knight. One of the good guys.”
I wanted to believe her. There were no knights left, but plenty of good guys.
Thinking of knights reminded me of Bennacio, the Last Knight, and his daughter, Natalia, who was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She had kissed me the last time I saw her. I thought about Natalia a lot, wondering where she was and if she was okay, because she was an orphan now like me—but mostly because she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen.
We drove back to the Tuttle house. Ashley put her hand on my arm before I stepped out of the car.
“Here,” she said, digging into her purse. “I want to give you my phone number.”