Rebel's Tag (2 page)

No, it doesn't sound too harsh. Grandpa's second letter was wrapped around a twenty-dollar bill and all it says is that I should go to the Café Soleil on Broadway Street, order a burger and ask for Joe, the cook.

“What if I don't want a burger?” I ask. “I could just take the twenty and get a new
CD
.”

Indi rolls her eyes. “I think you should do what your grandpa asked. If you're nervous or something, I'll go down there with you.”

I give her a look. “You think I'm scared?”

She grins. “Aren't you?”

“As if,” I say. “Fine. I'll go. Greed wins.”

“And you want me to go with you?” Indi's still smiling.

“No, I mean, you can come if you like but it doesn't matter.” I really do want her to come with me, but no way am I telling her that.

“Fine,” she says. “When should we go? This is sort of cool, isn't it? Like being in a mystery book. What do you think he'll give you? A gold ring? A painting? Or maybe a treasure map! Should we go on Saturday? What if Joe isn't working that day?”

I hold up my hand. “Indi, you're doing it again. Chill.”

She giggles. “Sorry. Can't help it.”

This has to be the worst part about having a girl for a best friend. She talks too much. Mostly she's fine, but man, there are times when I want to put a sock in her mouth. Okay, so one time I did put a sock in her mouth. It shut her up all right, but then she didn't talk to me for a month. It took some serious sucking up to get her to forgive me. See, that's another thing. You could shove a sock in a guy's mouth and he'd just punch you in the head and that would be it. Simple.

Still, Indi and I have this bond. Probably because we've been neighbors since we were old enough to drool Popsicles on each other. And now, even though she mostly hangs out with her girlfriends and I mostly hang out with the guys, she's the one I go to when I have a problem. Or when I need to go roofing.

“Yeah,” I say, “we'll go for the burger on Saturday.”

She frowns. “And what if Joe isn't there that day?”

“Then I guess he isn't,” I say.

Indi crosses her arms. “Maybe we should call the café and ask.”

That's the upside of having a girl around. I wouldn't have thought of that. “Sure. Are you going to call?” I ask.

I get another eye roll as Indi goes for the phone book. She's flipping through it when her father walks in and asks, “Indira, did you finish your homework?”

Indi's dad doesn't say hi to me. He used to like me fine when we were younger. Now? Not much. I think he figures I'm a
bad influence on his honor roll daughter. And Indi says her dad is always complaining: “Your friend being a boy is not right.” We know what he means, but we laugh about the way he says it. It sounds like being male is a mistake I should fix.

Indi glances up. “Not yet, Dad.”

“Well, and when do you intend to do it?” Mr. Bains glares at Indi. “Next year?”

“Dad, I'll do it soon, okay? I just need to make a phone call first.”

Mr. Bains mutters something under his breath and stomps away.

Indi makes the call, jots down the address and tells me we'll catch the bus on Saturday at 11:30
AM
. “And you're buying me lunch too,” she says.

“Anything else, Princess Indira?” I ask.

She sticks her tongue out and says, “Shut up. And go away. I have to do my homework.”

I pick up the letter and head for the door but before I get there, I turn back. “Indi?”

She knows what I want, but she shakes her head. “I can't go tonight, Sam. I really have a lot of homework.”

“Then maybe I'll go on my own,” I say.

Indi plunks her hands on her hips. “You promised me, Sam. Never alone. It's too dangerous.”

“What's dangerous?” Mr. Bains is back in the room, his eyes darting between Indi and me.

“Nothing, Dad.” Indi's quick answer doesn't cut it with Mr. Bains.

“Nothing?” he asks.

I can lie better than she can. “Indi's just telling me she doesn't want to try rock climbing.”

“Hmph,” Mr. Bains snorts. “Indira is a smart girl.”

I go outside into the dark but don't go straight home. I walk for a bit, my hands in my pockets, my gaze on the ground. I don't allow myself to look up; I have to keep that promise to Indi.

“So, what do you think Joe looks like?” Indi asks. We're on the bus, and it's taking forever to go down Broadway. Indi is getting bored and whenever that happens, she starts thinking about what guys look like.

I tell her, “He's probably got rotten teeth, a double chin and wears a long greasy apron.”

“Eeuw!” she says. “Nasty. But I don't think so.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because,” she says, “your Grandpa Max wouldn't leave a treasure with someone like that.”

“Oh. So you're saying that ugly people can't be trusted?” I ask.

“It's got nothing to do with his looks.” Indi lifts her chin and tosses her hair back. “It's the greasy apron I wouldn't trust. Never mind. It's useless talking to you about this stuff.”

“Maybe if we talked about good-looking girls instead, I could get into it.” I give her my best fake smile.

She elbows me in the ribs. “Forget it. Let's talk about something else. Like, what if you get a ruby ring? Wouldn't that be cool?”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Real cool. It might be worth enough to buy a car.”

“A car? What would you do with a car?” she asks.

“I'll have my license in a couple of years,” I say. “In the meantime, I could work on it.”

“You wouldn't really do that, would you?” Indi asks. “Sell your Grandpa's ring to buy a stupid car?”

“For sure I'd do it. I don't need a ring. But a car would be sweet.”

“You can be such a loser, Sam.” She seems serious.

“Indi, come on. I doubt he's giving me a ruby ring. But if it makes you feel any better and I do get a ring, then...”

“Then you'll keep it?” she asks.

“No, but I could get a ruby red car.” I shift sideways to escape the next elbow in the ribs, but she doesn't even try to get me. She just gives me the stare down. Luckily, the bus has finally reached our stop. By the time we get off and find the café, Indi is talking again.

She chatters on about how hungry she is and how good the food smells, and wow, look at all the huge plants. I only half listen because I'm trying to figure out why I feel strange. It's rainy and cool outside, but in here, it's like summer. The café walls are bright gold with streams
of yellow paint radiating from a neon sun set high on one wall. Brilliant lights gleam from the ceiling and from lamps on every table. I should have brought sunglasses. I'm standing there blinking when a woman wearing a shiny gold robe walks up.

“Welcome to the sunshine,” she says. “A table for two?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” I mumble.

The woman leads us to a booth under the neon sun and hands us each a menu. “I'm Goldy, and I'll be your server today. Can I get you a glass of water? Or lemonade?”

“Lemonade, please,” Indi answers.

“Sir?” The waitress is looking at me. I don't think anyone has ever called me sir before. This place is quite a trip. Before I can answer, she says, “You look familiar. Have you been here before?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Never.”

“Hmm.” Goldy studies me for a second more, and then she says, “Well, if you're new, do you know what our café offers?”

“Um,” I say. “I think you have burgers, don't you?”

She laughs. “Yes, we do. But we also provide light therapy.”

“What do you mean?” Indi asks.

“All of our lighting is full spectrum, which makes it feel like being in the sun. Many of our clients come in on rainy days just to cheer up.”

“Oh, yeah,” Indi says. “I've heard of that. Some people get depressed when it's gloomy outside, so they use special lights to make them feel better.”

Goldy nods. “Exactly. Now I'll get that lemonade for you.”

I guess I'm getting lemonade too, whether I like it or not. I flip open the menu but can't focus on it. I'm thinking that Grandpa Max must have come here often and maybe I look like him? Was he depressed? Why else would he hang out in this place?

“I love it here,” Indi says. “If the food is good, I'm coming back for sure.”

“You're not depressed,” I say.

“No, but this really is an upper.” She leans toward me and lowers her voice. “So when are you going to ask for Joe?”

I drop my gaze to the menu. “I thought maybe we'd eat first.”

“I think you should ask right away,” Indi says. “I mean, what if they get really busy? Then he might not have time to talk to you.”

As usual, she's right. So when Goldy returns, I ask her if Joe is around. She looks surprised but just asks for my name. When I tell her it's Sam Connor, her mouth rounds into an
O
and she hurries off again.

“Man,” I say, “we didn't even get to order our food.”

“She'll be back,” Indi says.

Goldy doesn't come back. Instead, a huge man emerges from the kitchen and strides toward us wearing a wide smile—complete with teeth. He's carrying something made out of dark wood. When he reaches our table, he sets the wooden thing on the floor and stretches out his hand. I get to my feet before taking his hand. I don't usually have great manners, but there's something about him that makes me stand up.

“Sam Connor!” he booms. “About time we met! Pleased to meet you, boy. I'm Joe.” His grip on my hand is crushing. Part of me feels like a weak little kid, but I hold on. I don't even flinch when he releases my hand and slaps me on the shoulder.

“Look at you!” he says. “I can see Max in you, all right.” He keeps grinning as he points toward the thing. “For you, from your grandfather. And if I'm not mistaken, you're going to need a burger. One for your friend too?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I mean, yes, please. At least, I think so.” I'm talking like an idiot.

Indi pipes up, “A burger would be great. Thank you.”

“Coming right up. Sam, your grandpa always says the world is a better place when met on a full stomach. Did you know he says that?”

“No, no I didn't,” I stammer.

“Well, that's one of his sayings. There's wisdom in that, don't you think?” Joe asks.

“I never thought about it,” I say.

“No?” Joe wags a finger at me. “Maybe you should. Max told me he had some poor times as a kid and going hungry made everything harder.”

“I didn't know that.”

“No? Well, he never talked about it much. He also says there's more than one way of starving to death.” Joe gives me a parting pat on the head, and then he's gone. Leaving me with what? I stare at my grandpa's gift and I don't get it. It looks like...

“What a beautiful cradle,” Indi coos.

Crap. That's what I thought it looked like. I glare at Indi. “You want it?”

“What?” she asks.

“Do you want it? I don't want it. Talk about retarded. What am I supposed to do with a cradle?”

“I don't know, Sam. But it's not retarded. I'll bet it's an antique. If you don't want it, then you should give it to your mom.”

“I don't think my mom plans to have anymore babies.”

Indi shrugs. “Then I guess you'll have to wait until you have your own kids.”

I just look at her. She looks back, her eyes laughing, her lips smirking. I pretend to scratch my nose, very obviously, with just my middle finger.

That's when Goldy shows up with the burgers. She raises her eyebrows but only says, “Here's your food, kids. And Joe says it's on the house. Cheers.”

The burger is excellent, the best I've ever had. Indi and I barely speak while we eat. When we're done, I lean back and sigh. I have to admit, I feel good. Good enough to leave the twenty Grandpa Max gave me on the table, even though I don't have to. I even feel good enough to take the stupid cradle with me. Although by the time I get on the bus with the thing, I'm already wishing I'd left it behind. Everyone who gets on the bus stares at it. A couple of jokers even ask where my baby doll is.