Chapter Thirteen

“No,” Patsy said, blocking my hand when I tried to reach into my pocket for money. “I want to pay for both of us.”

“No way,” I told her. “Next time.” I wanted her to know I hoped there’d be a next time.

It wasn’t exactly a date. I’d been invited for dinner at her house, and it had just seemed kind of natural to suggest catching a movie at the mall afterward. I already liked Patsy, but I liked her even more when she told me she was into martial arts movies.

I was a bit worried that it’d be hard to make conversation, but so far we had lots to talk about. Clay told me that on his first date with my mom, he’d actually written up a list of stuff they could discuss. But in the end, he’d said, he hadn’t had to use it.

“So what did you think of my mom’s lasagna?” Patsy asked as we got closer to the ticket booth.

“She makes great meat sauce.”

Patsy laughed. “You mean tofu sauce.”

I gulped. “That was tofu? I hate tofu.”

“I thought I hated it too. At first. Then I got used to it.”

“Your mom and dad seem to be doing okay,” I said. Patsy and I hadn’t talked much about what had happened that day at her house, but I had this feeling I had to say something. After all, I knew more about her family than most people did. And of course, she knew a lot about me too.

“Mom’s a lot happier now that Dad’s in counseling for his gambling problem,” Patsy said as casually as if we were still talking about lasagna. I looked around to check no one else was listening in. “Mom and I are gonna have to go too. For family counseling,” Patsy added.

“They want me to go too,” I said, dropping my voice.

When Patsy smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkled. “Family counseling is in,” she said.

“It is?”

I was glad she let me pay for the tickets.

“Do you want butter on your popcorn?” I asked her as we headed for the concession counter. There was a line there too. Oh well, I thought, that gives us more time to talk.

Patsy was the one who came up with the next topic. “Are you going to the trial?” she asked.

She was talking about the home invader, of course. Now that he was out of the hospital, he was going to be tried on nine counts of break and entry. I’d told Mom I wanted to go — even if it meant missing a few days of basketball camp. I’d talked Mom and Clay into enrolling me for another month.

“I’d like to go,” I told her. Then I told Patsy something I hadn’t told anybody else. “You know, I’m kind of relieved all the home invader had was a concussion. The thing is, I feel kind of connected to him. Like I understand him.”

Patsy raised her eyebrows.

“Not the tying people up part, or stealing their stuff, or scaring them,” I added quickly. “More the observing people part.”

I felt Patsy’s eyes scan my face as if she were looking for something. “Why can’t you just observe them outside their houses? Like here, for instance.” She lifted her eyes up toward the girl who was selling popcorn. The girl tugged at her hair net, then reached down to massage her lower back. You could tell she was eager to finish her shift.

“I can. I do. It’s just that observing people is more interesting when they don’t know you’re watching them. Then you really get to know them.”

This time Patsy nodded. I had the feeling she was starting to get it. “I guess it’s like watch- ing a movie — or reading a book,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” I told her.

Someone tapped my shoulder. It was my mom. She was with Clay. “What are you kids doing here?” my mom asked.

“Patsy and I figured we’d catch a movie after supper. We’re going to see Tae Foo Rumble. What about you guys?”

Don’t say you’re going to see Tae Foo Rumble, I thought to myself.

No such luck.

“Us too,” my mom said. “This is great. We can sit together. It’ll be like a double date.”

I felt my ears turn hot.

“Sure,” Patsy said, in a voice that didn’t sound so sure.

“You know, honey, now that I think about it, I’m not exactly in the mood for a martial arts movie,” Clay said, taking my mom’s elbow. “Wasn’t there a chick flick you wanted to see? I’d bet they’d let us change our tickets.”

My mom looked at him. “Sure,” she said, “that sounds like a good idea. You two enjoy your movie, okay?”

“I thought you hated chick flicks,” I heard her tell Clay as they walked back to the ticket booth.

“A guy can get used to anything,” he told her as he put his arm through hers. Even from behind, I could see his cowlick sticking up in the air.

Patsy had been watching them too. “So are you getting used to him?” she asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess so,” I said. “Just do me one favor, Patsy.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t tell him.”