Stones and Spark Read Free Page A

hung on the door.
    But there were people inside.
    So Drew — being Drew — barged right in.
    Not only were there no women and kids in the place, there were almost no white people.
    "Eighty-eight percent black," Drew corrected me later. "Eleven percent white." "Eighty-eight and eleven are ninety-nine," I pointed out. "You're off by one-percent."
    "No" she said. "I'm Jewish."
    "That's not white?"
    "Mediterranean."
    That was Drew. Precise. Particular. A total pain in the tuchus.
    And the most awesome best friend anywhere.
    But now I'm sick of staring at the door. I take out my geology journal and draw the tunnel's weeping walls. I make a note to myself about checking the city's water tables, and rub my thumb over the rock sample one more time, wondering if there's too much limestone or marble. Calcium carbonate, which would erode in acidic water.
    I glance at the door again; the clock says 5:15.
    My shake is melting when Titus brings the onion rings.
    "What's wrong?" he asks.
    "She's late."
    "You keep saying."
    "Drew. We're talking about Drew. The human clock."
    "Yeah, so be grateful. You just got walked to first."
    "Is this baseball lingo? Because I don't speak baseball."
    "That's part of your problem. Along with your palate."
    "My what?"
    "Ability to taste things." He plunks down the mayonnaise. "Go ahead, desecrate my onion rings. But I can't watch."
    As he leaves, I dip one ring in the mayo. This is how I eat my French fries, too. But I'm not prepared for this first bite. When the golden breading crunches open, it releases a glorious steam scented with sweet Vidalia onions. I close my eyes.
    "He ain't worth the spit on his ball!"
    "You should know!"
    The insults zing back and forth. I chew, savoring the contrast between the breading's crunch and onion's tenderness. And the mayo, tying both together.
    "The ump needs glasses!"
    "More like a telescope!"
    Drew told me all these guys played minor league baseball with Titus. He's the only one who made it to the majors, playing two seasons for the Atlanta Braves before a knee injury sidelined him.
    I eat another onion ring.
    But the clock says it's almost 5:30, and suddenly the food doesn’t taste that great.
    I pack up my tunnel rock and notebook, carrying the basket of onion rings and empty milkshake to the counter.
    Titus turns from the grill. "Something wrong?"
    "Can I get our burgers to go?"
    He gazes at me a long time, those eyes like pools of dark water. But finally he whips open the steamer oven and takes out two buns. On the grill, the cheddar has melted over our burgers like golden lava. He wraps up everything in butcher paper, including the rings, then puts it all in a white bag.
    "You're not going to wait for her?" he asks.
    "She's not coming."
    "You're sure?"
    "Drew's never late."
    He hands me the bag. "Never say never."
    "Unless it's Drew," I say. "Then, never means never."

CHAPTER FOUR
    I run home, cradling the bag of cheeseburgers and fries. My legs feel heavy as lead, but worse is the rock hammer. It pokes my spine like an insistent finger, reminding me of something that happened this morning. Something that bothered me.
    Drew and I were standing at our lockers.
    “I’ve got a surprise for you tonight,” I said. “Prepare to be amazed.”
    But she didn’t look prepared to be amazed. She looked a hundred miles away. “You know Newton’s third law of motion, don’t you?”
    “Newton had three?”
    “Raleigh, seriously.” She closed her locker, spinning the dial lock just so. “Newton’s third law of motion states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
    “Okay. So?”
    “So. I have a surprise for you, too.”
    Here’s the problem with having a highly competitive best friend. I could trespass in an abandoned train tunnel and come out with rock samples—and she would still have to top it.
    Now, as I run down Monument Avenue past the statue of Robert E. Lee, the idea hits me: Drew is pouting.
    She knew my surprise was