Jill Smolinski - The Next Thing on My List

‘ So far, so good.’

‘ Well, you realize you can’ t hog it all to yourself. You promised you’ d let me participate. All I do these days is write, so I need to live vicariously through you.’

‘ It’ s true,’ Kip agreed. ‘ This is the sort of thing he lives for.’

‘ So, June, what have you got for me?’ Sebastian pressed.

Thinking of the one task that seemed to be eluding me the most, I said, ‘ I don’ t suppose you know anyone by the name of Buddy Fitch.’

‘ As a matter of fact, I do!’ he cried.

‘ You do?!’ Ohmygosh, this was incredible! I started jumping around. The search was over! Boy, what were the odds that Sebastian would know-

I stopped. ‘ You were just fucking with me, weren’ t you.’

‘ I didn’ t know you’ d get so worked up. Who is he?’

‘ Beats me. That’ s the problem. There’ s an item that says Make Buddy Fitch pay. But it’ s hard to exact revenge on a person when you have no idea who he is.’

‘ Have you done an Internet check?’ Kip asked.

I caught them up on what I’ d tried so far: scanning the yearbooks, searching on the Internet, talking to Troy, who had called me back to say that the people he’ d talked to had come up empty, too.

‘ Tell you what,’ Sebastian said. ‘ I’ ve got a couple PIs helping me do investigation work for my new book. I’ ll have them do some digging into this Buddy Fitch character.’

‘ Oh, I don’ t want to ask you to do all that.’

‘ No problem. I owe you one.’

That was true; he did. Besides, I didn’ t know where else to turn. It was vital that I find Buddy Fitch. After all, it would be awful to go through all the trouble of racing to finish the list, only to fall one short.

Chapter 8

T he next few weeks passed quickly. To punish me for being assigned the gas giveaway, Lizbeth refused to ease up on any of my usual deadlines-and, in fact, I suspected she was making up extra work to give me. I stayed late at the office most nights trying to juggle everything. I hadn’ t noticed how busy I was until my mom called to talk about a finalist being voted off American Idol and I realized I’ d forgotten to watch. Not the entire season-just a few episodes-but still. (I liken it to those people who get to the end of the day, find they’ re peckish, and remark, ‘ Gee, I forgot to eat!’ That never happens to me, either.)

Even with work heating up, I made time to get together with Deedee every Saturday afternoon-although things with her weren’ t progressing as quickly as I might have hoped.

I’ d been allowing her to choose the activity, and every week she said she wanted to see a movie. Making up for lost time, I’ d guess. The only problem, I began to realize, was that it didn’ t exactly create the sort of bonding experience that would allow me influence over her life. I’ d pick her up at her house, we’ d drive the ten minutes to the theater, talking mostly about what we happened to observe outside the windows of my car-things like billboards, that lady with the shopping cart, which pizza places offered the thickest layer of cheese. Once at the theater, we’ d get snacks, watch the movie, and then head back home. So far, the only life lesson I’ d taught her was my trick when buying popcorn: insisting that they fill the bucket half-full of popcorn, squirt on the butter, then fill it the rest of the way up before adding the final buttering. ‘ That way, every bite is greasy,’ I’ d told her wisely. And while she’ d seemed genuinely impressed-ordering popcorn like a pro on subsequent visits-I doubted that’ s the sort of thing Marissa had in mind when she’ d written, Change someone’ s life.

In the interest of moving forward on the list, I tried to suggest another activity when I picked Deedee up for our fourth outing. The science center had a special show of actual preserved dead bodies. I thought for sure that’ d be a draw-what teenager doesn’ t enjoy gore?

‘ But the new Chris Rock movie just came out! I’ m dying to see it.’

I buckled my seat belt and started the engine. ‘ Wouldn’ t it be nice to do something new?’

‘ Pleeeeeeease,’ she pleaded. ‘ I hear it’ s really funny. Everybody’ s seen it. If I don’ t, I’ ll be the only person in my entire school who doesn’ t know what’ s going on.’ In her earnestness, she wiggled like an upended Jell-O mold.

How could I say no to that? ‘ Okay. Chris Rock it is.’

Everything went as usual until we were at the concession. I heard Deedee whisper to herself, ‘ Shit!’ followed by a mumbling in Spanish.

‘ What?’ I asked, but having learned to put a deaf ear to her swearing, I turned my attention back to the guy behind the counter. ‘ No, don’ t fill it up all the way. Halfway. Then add the butter& .’ I leaned over to give Deedee a nudge, but she was gone.

I paid for the snacks and attempted to balance them in the paper-thin cardboard carrier-two sodas, a giant bucket of popcorn, a box of Whoppers, and some Twizzlers-as I scanned the crowded lobby.

No sign of her.

Please tell me I didn’ t lose her.

I still had the tickets, so she couldn’ t have gone into the theater. I tried to recall what she’ d been wearing. Baggy jeans, I think. A gray hoodie. I shouted into the women’ s bathroom for her. No answer.

Worry knotted my stomach, but I told myself it was ridiculous. This wasn’ t a toddler who had wandered into traffic. She was fourteen. The place was silly with teenagers-loud, bright mobs of kids talking loudly and pushing at one another and drawing attention to themselves while pretending that was the last thing they wanted-yet none of them was my teenager. This was bad. The Big Sister program surely frowned on losing your charge.

I debated having Deedee paged, even though I knew she would kill me, when I spotted her sitting inside a phone-booth-shaped driving video game in the corner of the lobby. I could see the edge of her arm and pants and part of her ponytail.

‘ Deedee?’ I said, leaning in, trying not to spill the drinks.

‘ Oh, hey,’ she said. ‘ Just checking out this game.’ She hadn’ t put in any coins. ‘ Game over’ remained on the screen from the last player.

‘ You scared me-I thought I lost you.’

‘ Sorry.’

‘ The movie’ s about to start.’

‘ Okay.’ She didn’ t move, but she craned her neck to look past me, obviously searching for something& or someone?

‘ Is there a problem?’

‘ Nope. No problem.’

After another minute or so, she finally got up, snatching a soda from the tray in my hands, which upset the delicate balance I’ d worked so diligently to establish. I fumbled, trying to hold everything together, to no avail. Deedee made a grab for the popcorn, and I managed to save the Twizzlers. The rest crashed in a wet mess to the ground, splashing my pants and earning applause from the people nearby.

As I bent down to clear everything, I heard, ‘ Nice job, Deedee. Real graceful.’

I gazed up to see a girl standing there who was probably cute, but all I could see was her smug grin.

‘ Oh, hey, Theresa,’ Deedee said nonchalantly. ‘ I didn’ t know you were here.’

Suddenly Deedee’ s dash to hide in the video game made sense. She appeared to be as glad to see this girl as I was to see Lizbeth every morning.

‘ Me and Claudia met up with Tony and all them.’ Then she asked, ‘ Who you here with?’

Deedee, clearly not seeing any way around it, introduced me with a tip of the head. ‘ Her.’

I’ d been reduced to a pronoun.

Theresa appeared to expect further explanation. Deedee seemed mute, and I couldn’ t come up with anything that wouldn’ t shame her further. I understood how embarrassing it must be to get caught at a Saturday afternoon movie with an adult when your peers are there with friends. Was I a family friend? A relative? Would my admitting to being her Big Sister be akin to committing social murder? For lack of anything better, I said, ‘ I’ m her parole officer.’