Arson Read Free

hopes that Venus might actually find him in some way amusing. But in his white and black uniform, covered from nose to neck in a dozen different flavors of Tobey’s Sinfully Sweet ice cream, he knew it was empty hope. He held his eyes low, hair curling against his forehead. Then he smiled, feeling like an idiot.
    â€œYou get paid to serve us ice cream, loser, not flirt with customers,” Mandy’s friend said.
    Eye games followed while Arson took the cone back. “Stupid me. Forgot the chocolate shots.”
    Mandy sighed under her breath. “Here you go.” Reaching over the counter, she handed him a five-dollar bill.
    â€œDon’t even worry about it,” Arson said. “We’re allowed to give away one free cone a day, compliments of the house, or maybe  lair  would be more appropriate. Always feel awkward telling people this has any resemblance to a home when it has  Tobey’s Sinfully Sweet Ice Cream plastered across the front of the building with big red horns. Either way, consider it a gift.”
    The friend, whom he’d later remember as Kim from third period biology, piped up again, snapping her fingers. “Excuse me, loser. Does it look like we care?”
    Arson handed Mandy the cone again. Luckily, she and her friend were the last customers of the night. He didn’t dare get into it with Mandy’s friend, even though he wanted to tell her to just shut up and take the free cone. He followed their shadows out the door with interest, focusing on Mandy’s.  What does a guy have to do to get a girl like that?  he thought.
    Moments later, Arson flipped a switch on the wall, and the  Closed  sign illuminated the front window.
    â€œThanks, Arson. That was real nice,” he mumbled to himself, imitating Mandy’s voice. “I really like you.” His shoulders sank. “Saying it to yourself doesn’t make it true, only pathetic.”
    He locked the door, put his face to the glass, and tried to get a better look at the girls as they walked, but he was too late. Feeling misplaced, another sigh blew out of him. He didn’t fit into this world. Nights like these made him wonder if he was simply a manufactured piece of hardware, a mistake in the assembly line of humanity. He felt unique, but in a horrible way.
    Arson suddenly started coughing. A sharp pain cut through him. It was the same sensation that had found him on the rooftop. Worse. Sweat dripped from the center of his palms, and they quickly got hotter. Arson raced to the sink, where scoopers sank to the bottom, the colorful assorted residue of a day’s worth of ice cream rising to the milky top. Without even thinking, he submerged his hands in the cool water, and the pain went away.
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    * * *
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    Kay prepared herself for bed, always treasuring the short, fleeting moments at night with her husband.
    She cleaned during the day, doing dishes, mopping floors, washing laundry—necessary qualities of all strong women, tasks lost on today’s generation. For women, there was no room for something as selfish as a career. But child-raising, pride, and tradition, on the other hand, were what made a woman valuable. Respectable men were supposed to work and provide for their wives, lead. Everybody had their place. It was the way it had always been.
    Before bed, Kay often stared into the vanity mirror for a while, gazing into the eyes that had grown so cold over the years. “I’m old,” she said, letting her hair down.
    The gray static strands zigzagged past her shoulders and across her breasts. The naked woman in her mirror groaned.
    Kay looked down and caressed the fatty parts of her skin. The saggy, undesirable folds infuriated her. She didn’t want them. Who would? It had been years since she’d felt beautiful. She longed for the days of her youth. Simpler times. She remembered when she first began to blossom, confident with the blessing of puberty