Нил Шустерман - Antsy Does Time

“Don’t worry—they’re just like people who can see,” I told her. “Except that they can’t.”

“I don’t want to say or do anything wrong ...”

“Don’t worry,” I told her, “that’s my department.”

Lexie and Raoul arrived a minute or so later, and I wondered where they’d been, since Lexie lives right upstairs, and then I wondered why I’d wondered. I went up to Lexie and took her hand. Kjersten was confused by this, until I guided Lexie’s hand into hers. It was something I was just used to doing; it spared Lexie the awkwardness of an inexact docking procedure when it came to shaking hands.

We sat at a table that used to be reserved for famous people from Brooklyn, until they realized that people from Brooklyn who got famous never came back.

Lexie released Moxie, her Seeing Eye dog, from his harness as soon as we sat down, and he obediently took his place beside her chair.

We made awkward small talk for a while about the differences between public high school and their ultra-high-end school for the wealthy blind. For a brief but unpleasant few moments, the girls had this little tennislike discussion about me, like I wasn’t there—all I could do was follow the ball back and forth.

“I like Antsy because he’s not afraid to say what’s on his mind,” serves Kjersten.

“Believe me, I know,” returns Lexie. “Even when he shouldn’t say anything at all.”

“Oh, but that’s the fun part,” Kjersten smashes for the point.

I decided a change in subject matter was called for.

“So,” I said to Raoul as the busboy poured water not quite as expertly as I did, “you don’t have a guide dog—is that because clicking does it all?”

“Pretty much,” said Raoul proudly. “Echolocation makes canes and canine companions seem positively medieval.” He’d been pretty quiet until now, but once the conversation became about him, he perked up. “Personally, I think it could be an adaptive trait. Evolutionary, you know?”

“Raoul doesn’t have a guide dog because most people don’t get them until they’re older,” Lexie explained curtly. “Technically I’m not supposed to have one either, but you know my grandfather—he pulled some strings.”

“I don’t need one, anyway,” Raoul said. Then he clicked a few times and determined the relative location of our four water glasses, and the fact that mine was only half full, on account of the busboy had run out of water since he didn’t check his pitcher the way you’re supposed to before you start pouring. And he calls himself a busboy!

“That’s amazing!” Kjersten said.

But I wasn’t so convinced. “He could have heard the water being poured.”

“Could have,” Raoul said, “but I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Okay, then,” I said, crossing my arms. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“He can’t be that specific,” said Lexie, jumping to his aid, but Raoul clicked, and said: “None. You didn’t even put up your hand.”

Kjersten looked at me, and grinned.

“All right, Raoul wins,” I admitted. “He’s amazing.”

“And the crowd goes wild!” said Raoul.

“Can we just order?” said Lexie, running her finger across the Braille menu. Maybe it was my imagination, but she was moving her finger a little too fast for her to actually read it. I’ve seen Lexie read before. I knew the pace of Braille—or at least her Braille. Kjersten was watching me watching her, so I looked away. Maybe a double date with Lexie wasn’t a good idea after all.

“They’re flying me out to Chicago next week,” Raoul said. “To do a national talk show.”

At that, Lexie closed her menu a little too hard. The sudden clap made Moxie rise to his feet, then sit back down again.

Raoul reached out, gently rubbed his hand along her sleeve, and then took her hand. “What’s wrong, baby?”

I grimaced at that. I couldn’t help myself. If you knew Lexie Crawley at all, you knew never to call her “baby.” That, and the fact that he was holding her hand, just kind of gave me mental dry heaves. I mean, sure, I was dating Kjersten, but I think the human brain isn’t designed to deal with situations like this.

I looked over at Kjersten, who noticed my reaction, and again I looked away.

“You don’t have to accept all those TV invitations,” Lexie told Raoul. “And you don’t have to echolocate for people all the time. You’re not a sideshow act.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, you should.”

Suddenly I found my menu to be a place of safety. “I’m thinking maybe the ribs,” I said. “How about you, Kjersten?”

“Isn’t this a seafood place?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like seafood.”

That’s when Kjersten’s phone rang. Even her ring tone was cool. NeuroToxin’s new hit. She pulled the phone out of her purse, looked at the number, then dropped it back in. “Not important,” she said, although the look on her face said otherwise.

The waiter took our orders, and once he was gone, small talk became big silence, until Raoul said, “I can echolocate the number of people in the room—wanna see?”

Lexie stood up suddenly. “I need to freshen up.” Moxie rose when she did, but she went off without him.

Even though Lexie knew this restaurant inside and out, there were enough people moving around to make navigating to the bathroom like flying through an asteroid field. I got up to escort her.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Kjersten, who smiled at me politely. “I gotta go to the bathroom anyway.”

As Lexie and I neared the restroom, I heard Kjersten’s phone ring again. I glanced back just long enough to see her answer it.

“I like Raoul,” I told Lexie. “He’s kinda cool.”

“If he ever stops talking about himself.” We were at the restroom doors, but Lexie didn’t make a move to go in. “Having a special ability is all fine and good. But there’s got to be more to a person than sonar.”

“Yeah ... I guess if he didn’t have that, he’d be pretty boring, huh.” I thought about how the conversation was all about him and his uniqueness back at the table, and I realized it wasn’t because he was conceited; it was because he had nothing else to talk about.

“Kjersten seems very nice,” Lexie said. “I’m happy for you ...” I knew Lexie well enough to know there was an implied “but” at the end of that sentence. I waited for the but to present itself.

“But... there’s something about her,” Lexie finally said. “I don’t know, it’s not quite right.”

“You barely said a word to each other—how can you tell anything?”

“I have a sense about these things.”

“Being blind doesn’t make you psychic,” I said, sounding more annoyed than I intended to. No—actually I intended to sound exactly like that.

“There’s something in her tone of voice,” Lexie said, “something in the silences. It’s ... off.”

“So what? She’s got family stuff going on, that’s all,” I said. “Her brother’s illness.”

“That may be part of the reason.”

“The reason for what?”

“For why she’s going out with you.”

I didn’t like the way this conversation was heading. “Maybe she just likes me—did you ever think of that?”

“Yes, but why does she like you?”

“Why does she need a reason? She just does! What—you think it’s strange that a girl who’s two years older than me, really smart, and looks like a supermodel would want to date me?” There are some things you just shouldn’t say out loud. “Okay, maybe it is strange. But what’s wrong with that? So she’s strange. So am I—so are you—since when was there a law against that?”