The Unofficial Zack Warren Fan Club (17 page)

Chapter 18

I heard the water running early the next morning. Still sleepy, I got out of bed to see what Zack was doing before sunrise. Normally I’m up first. So I knocked and he opened the door.

“I’m going out.” He said, and that’s when I noticed he had his new sneakers on and red basketball shorts. His shirt was tossed over his shoulder.

“Where?”

“I like to run.” Good for him. My exercise was a little less invigorating, and usually involved walking Kirk. I could drop three pounds by ignoring salty food. Which would be helpful, if I actually cared about those three pounds.

I followed Zack downstairs, making an excuse about needing to feed Kirk since I wasn’t in the mood to go back to bed. The sounds of mom and Glenn giggling and hushing each other echoed out of the kitchen.

That old bike, the BMX Vince got me, I still had it. I could ride it because he bought one I’d grow into. It was just a tad small now, but manageable. So I changed into shorts, a t-shirt, jammed my feet into sneakers, and hauled ass out the front door. I found Zack stretching in the grass next to the garage.

If I was really critical, I could say that his arms were a little long, a bit gangly. His eyes might be too far apart, and he made this dorky under-his-breath laugh, somewhere between a snort and a chuckle when he thought something was amusing. He could be bossy, and always left blue streaks of toothpaste in the sink and kept the water running while he brushed.

No matter how I felt or what I saw in the depths of his eyes, I had no business even daydreaming about the possibility of him and me. We were just going to be friends.

But my brain wasn’t in agreement with my emotions, the feelings of nervousness and excitement. No matter what I told myself, the feelings always tromped on my good intentions, leaving me upset and confused.

“I’m not about to run three miles.” I glanced back at the house. “No way in hell am I going to sit in my room while our parents go at it like rabbits.”

“When you put it that way, I’d ride a bike with pink streamers.”

At first peddling was awkward, but then I found that the seat adjusted. I hopped off at the end of the driveway to raise it. It wouldn’t budge. I twisted and jerked, managing to slam one of the pedals into my shin.

I peddled right beside him, or in front, depending on how fast I went, or he went. Zack fluctuated between a steady jog and a dead run that would leave me in the dust if I ever ditched my wheels.

While stopping for a water break—Zack had stowed two bottles in the basket on the front of my bike—he asked if we could take a detour through town.

I left my bike outside. Zack pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his shorts and slipped it on. We went into the black diner, thinking it was something interesting to see. Except inside wasn’t much to write home about.

The tables were old and rickety, chairs wobbly. We took a seat in a booth that had stuffing coming out of the seats; I stared at the menu glued to the wall next to our table.

It was all breakfast, all the time.

And chili.

The waitress came over, well, more like waddled. Her hips were huge! And I am so not mean, but I think it’s in a person’s best interest to lay off the sweets and crap when you’re as wide as you are tall. Extra padding isn’t a bad thing until it interferes with your health. Which was why I didn’t mind that my tummy was softer, sometimes it pooched over my jeans when I sat down. I did not want to look emaciated or rock hard. Boney is gross, and I’d leave the rock hard to Zack. He pulled it off much better.

There weren’t many people in the diner, and the ones that were probably considered themselves well seasoned, as opposed to old and crusty.

Two really ancient guys sat in the far corner squinting at a chessboard. They were using salt and peppershakers they stole from the other tables in place of the missing pawns. Then there was an old lady stuffing sugar packets in her purse under the table. Another guy clipping coupons from a week old paper had a steaming bowl of chili in front of him.

In fact, they were the best pancakes I’d ever had. They didn’t even need syrup. Chocolate chips were sprinkled in-between each hot and cakey layer with sliced strawberries smothered in whipped cream. It was heaven. We polished off the whole plate, barely leaving a crumb.

Zack paid the waitress with money he had stuck in his shoe. I wondered if it was sweaty from his running…but the lady didn’t seem to mind, and to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have either.

Chapter 19

Zack

We left Chloe’s bike at the diner and walked across the street to the shopping center, debated going inside, thought better of it, and cut through the back parking lot to a big grassy field that housed a shed for sports equipment. We managed to find swings, and slides, and kid toys. I’m guessing it was supposed to pass for a park. Chloe hopped on a swing and pumped her legs, taking her high into the air. I indulged my laziness and sat on a child’s rocking horse, probably looking like a giant. I wondered if the horse would break under my weight. It was made for the toddling crowed.

“What else do you like, besides sports?” she asked.

“Cars,” I said. “Hanging out with you is fun.”

“Really? Thanks, but you’ve got to give me something more than that.” I could see the light bulb flick on over her head. “You have a punching bag in your room, and I saw trophies that weren’t for baseball in a box when we unpacked.”

“My secret…you can’t tell anyone.” I really didn’t mind if she found out. In fact, I wondered what her reaction would be. “The only other person outside of my dad who knows is Kyle.”

“Okay, it’s your body.” I pushed off the horse and walked over to the swings. She slowed a bit, and jumped forward, tumbling into the grass. Laughed the whole time.

“That was fun.” She rolled onto her back and laughed some more when I stood over her and picked a leaf out of her hair. “You’re so much taller from down here.”