Lucky Cap (12 page)

I nodded. She rolled her eyes. We walked.

“Do you hate me now?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“Tons.”

“I deserve it.”

“Did you find out who stole your cap?”

“No, and I don't care anymore.”

That took care of more of my note.

“How about which cheerleader was in the locker room?”

I thought of Misa. “That doesn't matter, either. It's just a cap.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“LeBron signed it.”

“Yeah…” I didn't like thinking about that.

“You still have your memories?”

“Right.”

“Why weren't you at practice?”

“I got suspended. For a week. Two games. For being stupid. About the cap.”

That did it—the note was officially covered. I wouldn't need to give it to her.

“I saw the pictures,” she said. “Lance's pictures.”

“It wasn't even because of them. I did more stupid stuff than that. I've been outstupiding myself lately. But I'm done. I've decided to smarten up.”

She laughed again. “How you getting home?”

“Oh,” I said. Stupidly. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“I'll ask my mom to give you a ride.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“Did you give notice today?” I asked Dad as we watched a Kings game that night on TV.

“No.”

“How come?”

“You asked me not to.”

“And that
worked
?”

“I want to make the right decision.”

“I can't believe you'd actually walk away from a job at Kap.”

“If it was the right thing to do, I would.”

“So you think doing the right thing is more important than getting lots of money and cool stuff and hanging with famous people?”

He laughed down in his chest, like he didn't want me to know he was doing it, then said, “I do.”

“Interesting,” I said. “You shouldn't base your decision on anything I say then.”

“No?”

“No. What does the Sisterhood say?”

“They say they'll support my decision.”

“Even Lupe?”

“Even Lupe.”

“I'm sure Nadine wants you to quit the big, bad corporation.”

“She said she wants me to do what's right.”

I thought about this for a second. Then I said, “I'll be right back.”

I walked down to the basement, to where Nadine's room was. Her door was painted metallic silver. I knocked. I heard footsteps, then the door opened a crack. The music from inside got louder. Music I didn't know. Strange, rumbling music, with a woman's voice wailing in some strange language. Nadine's face appeared in the opening, above mine. She's taller than me. All of my sisters are.

Weeks before, she had bleached her black hair, then dyed it red. It was pulled back from her face by a white elastic headband. She wore bright red lipstick, a silver miniskirt, a purple bikini top with tassels hanging from it, and white, knee-high boots. This was her new look. Desi called it Goth Go-Go. Not sure what the Go-Go part was about, but the outfit's skimpiness made me uncomfortable. It must have made her uncomfortable, too. It was cold in the basement. Especially considering it was November.

“What is it?” she asked. Her lips barely moved when she talked, like she was a ventriloquist, only she didn't have a dummy.

“Can I t-talk to you?” I asked, suddenly nervous.

She looked me up and down, then said, “Sure,” and opened the door.

I had not been in her room in ages. A year, maybe two. She'd redecorated it, but not the way the others had done the upstairs. It wasn't girly. It was a shiny, silver cave. The walls and ceiling were painted metallic silver, same as the door. They looked as if they'd been papered in aluminum foil. I felt as if I were standing in a hall of mirrors, except, because the surfaces were bumpy (the basement walls were made of rock, not plaster), the reflections were murky and distorted. This wasn't helped by the room's dim light, which came from one small lamp with a beaded shade and a red bulb.

Stacks of black plastic milk crates filled with records lined the walls, and a stereo, with a turntable, sat on top of one of the shorter stacks. A record spinning on the turntable was churning out the strange rumbling music with the wailing non-English-speaking woman. Nadine was the only person I knew who owned and played vinyl.

She stepped over to the stereo and lowered the volume. No remote for Nadine.

“What's that music?” I asked.

“You like it?”

“Uh…”

“You're curious?”

“Uh… sure.”

“It's the Cocteau Twins.”

“Never heard of them.”

She nodded, like she didn't think I would have. “They weren't twins and weren't named Cocteau.”

“Are they dead?”

“No. Why?”

Oh, maybe because she said “
weren't
twins and
weren't
named Cocteau”? Or because they were on
vinyl
? Or because Nadine listened to them and she mostly listened to old music by old or dead people—people who probably dressed in the same old-fashioned clothes only she wore?

I didn't answer the question. Instead, I asked, “Is she saying ‘sugar hiccup on Cheerios'?”

“I don't think so,” she said with a little scowl. “I mean, the song
is
called ‘Sugar Hiccup,' but I don't think there's anything about Cheerios.”

“Is she singing in English?”

“Yeah. Her name's Elizabeth Fraser. She's Scottish actually. Isn't her voice haunting?”

“I can't tell what she's saying.”

“That's part of her mystery,” Nadine said with a dreamy smile.

“Sugar Hiccup” stopped suddenly and a louder, sort of punk song kicked in so fast I squeaked. Nadine smiled and turned the volume down a bit more. Not all the way down. Obviously, the music was really important to her. I wondered what she would do if someone stole her Cocteau Twins record. Would she turn to crime, like I did? I mean, it can't be easy to find Cocteau Twins records anymore. Or
any
records…

Nadine swayed slightly to the echoey sound of the fast drums, acting sort of zoned out. Drugged out? How would I know? I was getting more uncomfortable. I started edging toward the door.

“What did you want to talk about?” she asked without really focusing on me. “Having trouble at Stan?”

I shrugged.

“I thought you were class president. Basketball star. Girl magnet.”

Girl magnet? What a horrible phrase.

“Not so much anymore.”

“Fame is fickle,” she said, and fluttered her hand like a butterfly. A joke, I guess. One I didn't get. Was she becoming an adult already? She was only fourteen.

“Dad said you told him he should quit his job at Kap,” I blurted out.

“
Told
him? No, I didn't
tell
him to stop selling his soul. He came to me and said he didn't feel right working there. I just listened and supported him. It's not easy to do what is right, Enzo. Especially when people offer you a lot of money and perks.”

“Perks,” I mumbled to myself. Magic caps, for example.

“We should be proud of Dad,” Nadine said.

“For what? For quitting?” This went against every guy code I'd ever heard of.

Hey, wait. I quit the student council.

“He's not quitting. He's resigning in protest. He's refusing to support the company on principle.”

“I… I resigned as president.”

“In protest?”

I really wasn't feeling good. No wonder I never visited Nadine's room.

“Not exactly,” I said. “I'd just gotten in so much trouble they were about to kick me out, so I thought I'd better quit first.”

“Better to resign than get impeached,” she said, which was pretty much what Iris had said.

“I was a lousy president. Misa will be better at it. Iris would be even better, but she ran for treasurer instead.”

“Wasn't popular enough to run for president, eh? Not pretty enough?”

She knew the answers, so I didn't bother giving them to her.

“This trouble you got in… were you rebelling against the system, against things you believed were unjust?”

“No. I was just trying to get back my favorite cap. Someone stole it.”

“So you took the law into your own hands?”

“Huh?”

“You broke the law to find the lawbreaker?”

“Oh. Yeah. I did that. Is that bad?”

She didn't answer. Out loud, anyway. Her silence said a lot.

“Well, what would you do? What if someone stole your record?” I pointed at the turntable. “Wouldn't you try to get it back?”

“What would I do? Be sad, I guess. Wonder why someone would do something like that. Look for another copy?”

“There is no other copy of the cap. It was one of a kind. A prototype.”

The music ended suddenly.
Phew.
But then it was quiet in the glowing red foil cave. Which was extremely uncomfortable. I almost asked her to play the record again. Almost.

“Listen, Enzo,” she said, in what was clearly an introduction to some big-sisterly advice, which was what I had come for, but which suddenly I really didn't want to hear. So far most of what she'd said made me feel guilty.

“Yes?” I said anyway.

But her serious expression dissolved into a smile, and she said, “Never mind. You'll figure it out.”

Why wouldn't anybody just tell me what to do?

She walked over to the stereo, flipped the record, and the scary music returned.

“You want me to tape this for you?” she asked.

Tape? Did people still tape?

“No, thanks,” I said, and hustled out of her cave and back into the modern world.

Kai stood at the bus stop in the morning, wearing a new Kap cap. My Kap cap. Well, one like it. The cap was certainly a hit with my demographic. (That's Evan-speak for kids my age.)

“Nice cap,” I said as I approached.

He didn't look at me. Must have been mad because I stood him up. I had thrown him over for a girl, though I wouldn't be telling him that.

“Sorry about yesterday, dude,” I said. “I got… detained.”

“Another detention, huh?”

So he knew about the detentions.

“I tried to make the bus, but missed it.”

This seemed to soften him up a little. Enough to look at me at least.

“Where'd you get the cap?” I asked, eyeing it a little sadly. It reminded me of what I lost.

“From my uncle. For my birthday yesterday.”

Whoops. Forgot about that. Why didn't he remind me? It was probably a test. I failed it.

“Happy birthday,” I said. “Sorry I forgot.”

“That's okay. I'll forget yours on July fourteenth.”

“Someone stole my cap, you know.” I wanted to change the subject. “They took it out of my locker during a pep rally last week.”

“I heard. You don't know who took it?”

“No, and I don't care, either. Stupid cap. I got in so much trouble because of it. Trying to get it back, I mean. Now I say, Who cares? It's just a cap. I have other caps. Like this one.” I touched the cap I was wearing.

He looked at it. “Yeah.” And he smiled a little.

I took that to mean we were friends again. It wasn't like I was expecting some big movie hug or anything. We were real.

“I'm glad you don't care about the cap anymore,” he said. “I mean, you're right to let it go. You don't want to carry anger around with you. It eats you up.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Now that you understand the cap actually brought you lots of bad luck, and you're better off without it, you should probably
thank
the guy who took it, don't you think?”

“I don't know. That might be going a little far…”

“Sounds to me like he did you a big favor, I mean.”

“Could have been a she.”

“No,” he said, like he was sure. “It wasn't a girl.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I…” He looked down. “I took it.”

“What?”

“I'm glad you came around on this. That shows a lot of maturity—”

“
You
took it?”

“Remember, you have other caps. Like you said…”

Firecrackers popped in my brain. I swear I could smell smoke.

“
You
took it? You snuck into the locker room during the pep rally and stole it? Like some
thief
?”

“No! Not like that at all!”

He looked pretty terrified, which is just what he should have looked. I bet I looked pretty terrifying.

“I didn't sneak into the dumb locker room,” he said. “You set it on the bleachers, and it got bumped off after you went to sit with the jocks. I just climbed down and got it.”

“Really?” This cooled my anger a little, if for no reason other than that it forced me to stop and think. Did I really drop it? That would mean I never put it in my locker…

“I was going to give it to you, but then… well… I didn't.”

“What did you do with it?”

He gulped. “I threw it…” He was afraid to finish.

“Kai, where's my cap?”

Instead of answering, he pointed. “Here comes the bus!”

“Where did you throw it, Kai?”

“Can we talk about this later, Enz? The bus is here.”

The bus pulled up to the curb and let out a hiss. I hissed, too. At Kai. The doors opened. Kai climbed aboard. I followed him.

He and I (and Lupe) had been riding the bus every morning since school started, but I always sat by myself. That day I practically sat in Kai's lap.

“Where's my cap, Kai?” I demanded.

“I thought you said you didn't care about it anymore,” he said, doubling over like his stomach hurt.

“Just tell me
where
you threw it, Kai,” I said firmly. “Or do we need to bring the cops into this?”

He shook his head hard. “No! I'll talk. I'll tell you everything.”

“Well?”

“I threw it…”

“Go on!”

“I threw it…”

“Yesss?”

“… in the boys' bathroom.”

“Where in the boys' bathroom? Not in the
garbage
can in the boys' bathroom?”

I said this so loud everyone on the bus turned and looked. The bus driver checked her big, rectangular rearview mirror.

“Everything okay back there?” she called.

“Fine!” Kai called back.

“Why'd you have to throw it in the
garbage
? Why didn't you give it back to me? Or hide it? Was it because…”

I didn't know how to put it. I was pretty sure he'd done it because he was so mad at me for snubbing him, for pretending I didn't know him.

“It was stupid,” he said, looking at the floor of the bus. “I know it. But I kind of believed that the hat was, you know, like
magic,
or something, that it had changed you, and I… I wasn't good enough to be your friend anymore.”

“Oh,” I said.

“So I stuffed it into my backpack. No one saw me do it. They were all too busy watching the pep rally. So I crawled back up and sat down and watched it, too. I was going to try to find you and return it when it was over, but then I thought maybe you might change your mind and be my friend again if you didn't have the cap. You know… if you lost your magic and all. Before I knew it, I'd thrown it in the garbage and was running away.” He looked up at me. “And now here you are. Like magic.”

He smiled this goofy, weak, crooked smile. He looked like he was going to cry. Talk about uncomfortable. Before the tears fell, thankfully, he pulled off his cap and held it out to me.

“You can have this one,” he said. “I know it's not the same. It's not autographed by LeBron James. It's not a prototype.”

I pushed the cap away.

“Keep it. I'm good. I thought the cap was magic, too, you know. Lucky. I thought it made me popular and good at stuff. But it didn't. It was just a cool cap. And now there are lots of them. Like yours. And before you know it, there'll be some even cooler cap everyone will want.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking at the cap. “You're probably right.” He smiled. “Does that mean you're not mad at me?”

“To be honest, no, I'm still mad. I loved that cap. LeBron James signed it, and I met him.”

Kai shrank down in the seat.

“But I was acting like such a jerk to you I probably deserved it. I'll forget about it if you'll forget what a jerk I was.”

“Deal,” Kai said, and raised a fist.

I bumped it. And that was totally that.