The Wonder Spot Read Free Page A

might be a pack in the glove compartment.” There was. “I don’t see any matches, though.”
    â€œI have matches,” he said. I handed him two cigarettes, and he held one and put the other behind his ear like a pencil.
    He walked with me and Albert past the cars and along the grassy edge of the parking lot. He ran his hand along the bushes. I thought of the one afternoon Eric Green had walked me home from school, his finger through my back belt loop.
    Now, Danny said, “Poodles are really smart, right?”
    â€œI can’t speak for the whole breed,” I said, “but Albert is a genius.”
    â€œCan he do tricks?”
    â€œTricks are beneath him.” I said that he’d been named for both Albert Einstein (Robert’s hero) and Albert Camus (Jack’s).
    The sun was glinting off the cars, and in the bright light I saw that this boy looked less like Eric Green than I’d thought. It occurred to me that Danny was older, and I was right.
    He told me that he was in eighth grade and his private school had already started. It always started early, he said bitterly, adding that he’d had to miss the last day of hockey camp.
    I almost said, That’s too bad, but it sounded like gloating.
    As we walked, the bushes thinned out, and you could see a field on the other side. At a large gap, there was a path and Danny said, “You want to . . . ?” and I said, “Okay.”
    He took Albert’s leash and cut through first. Then he reached his hand out for me. I took it, and he steadied me so I wouldn’t slide down the hill, which was more mud than grass.
    He said, “You okay?”
    I nodded.
    He seemed reluctant to let go of my hand, and when he looked at me, everything tingled—not the tiny on-and-off sparks of a foot falling asleep but single and continuous like flying in a dream.
    The grass had been mashed down into a path. What had looked like a beautiful field turned out to be a vacant lot; a ratty blanket and rusted beer cans surrounded the ashes and burned sticks of an old campfire. Even so, the sun was lighting up the trees and weeds and flowers. There was the buzzing hum of insects in unison, loud and then quiet.
    Danny lit his cigarette and said, “I can’t believe summer’s over,”and I heard in his voice what I knew I’d feel in another week when my school started; it made summer seem less real now.
    Danny blew a smoke ring. “Are you going out with anybody?”
    I thought again about Eric Green, who had stopped talking to me. “Not at the moment.”
    At my feet, Albert was sniffing at what looked like a big finger of the flesh-colored gloves Jack wore while dissecting sharks in the basement.
    I could feel Danny’s eyes on me, and though we were in the shade, I thought of Robert saying that my dress was see-through in the sun. I suddenly felt queasy and nervous. “We should get back.”
    He didn’t move; maybe he was hoping I’d change my mind. He used his first cigarette to light his second.
    I got my voice to sound normal, but I felt the quiver underneath when I said, “Come on,” to Albert.
    I tried to pretend I wasn’t hurrying, but I was, and Danny followed. Then we weren’t on the path anymore; there wasn’t a path. I was stomping down weeds. Pricker bushes were scratching my legs. Finally, I caught sight of the parking lot through the weeds. We’d wound up behind the synagogue, where only a catering truck and a maintenance van were parked.
    I slowed down a little then; we walked side by side. In the distance, I could see guests leaving. A few wild children were running around while their parents talked. Rebecca’s father, carrying a tutu centerpiece, was helping her grandmother into a sedan. I saw my father then; he was smoking near the station wagon.
    On reflex, I crouched down behind a Cadillac, and Danny crouched with me. “That’s my