Riley Park by Diane Tullson Page A

to me. “It was her boyfriend. But she took the bus today, so that means he isn’t her boyfriend anymore.”
    â€œMaybe he had to work or something.”
    Darius says, “From the car he drives, he makes way more money than a regular job.”
    â€œYou think he sells drugs or something?” I watch as Rubee enters the Safeway. “She wouldn’t go out with a guy like that.”
    Darius looks at me. “And you would know?”
    â€œYes. She’s too sweet.”
    He says, “Sweet girls fall the hardest.”
    I say, “How can you be sure they broke up?”
    â€œLet’s just run with it,” Darius says. “You think she’s too sweet for you?”
    My face grows hot. “No.”
    â€œSo go ask her out.”
    â€œNo.”
    He laughs again, and I’m getting pissed off.
    I say, “Not today. I’ll ask her out sometime when I’m wearing my team jacket. A hockey jacket makes a busted nose look tough.” Instead of ugly. “And I’ll wear my ring, my junior hockey championship ring.”
    Darius says, “If you don’t ask her out right now, I will.”
    My hands curl into fists. “Like she’d go out with you, Wildman.”
    He shrugs. “Only one way to find out.” He slams down the hatch on my car and strides toward the store.
    I catch up with him. “We’ve got everything we need. Let’s go.”
    But he’s in the store and in Rubee’s line.
    Ahead of us, an old woman in sweatpants smacks coins onto the counter. She is ranting to Rubee about an expired coupon. She doesn’t have much on the conveyor: bananas, toilet paper—the cheap stuff—and some liquid meal replacement old people drink. The cans of meal replacement have a redclearance sticker. They must be close to the best-before date. Maybe they’ve expired.
    Rubee speaks quietly to the woman as she pushes several coins back to her. The woman grins, gathers the coins, grabs her bag of groceries and scuttles out of the store. The guy in front of us shovels the rest of his stuff onto the conveyor. Rubee counts the old woman’s coins into the cash drawer. She looks up and sees me. She smiles.
    I look at her hand. She’s not wearing the ring.
    I watch her scan the guy’s groceries. She’s wearing a black cord bracelet with a round red stone. The stone slides back and forth on her wrist as she works. But she’s not wearing the ring. She smiled at me, she’s not wearing the ring and we’re standing in her line with nothing to buy.
    I grab a pack of gum and toss it in a shopping basket.
    Darius laughs. “Corbin, if you’re asking her out, you’ll need more time than it takes to ring in one pack of gum.” He turns and snags a half-filled cart someone hasleft unattended. He pushes the cart into Rubee’s line.
    I say to him, “I’m not asking her out. I’m not ready. If she says no, I’ll lose my once-in-a-lifetime chance.” I peer into the cart. “Nice. You were right out of Huggies.”
    Behind us, a woman says, “Now where did I leave my cart?”
    Darius says, “Once in a lifetime? You’re asking her out, not proposing.”
    I pull a package out of the pile of groceries in the cart. “And animal crackers.”
    The woman’s voice is louder now. “I swear, I left my cart right here.”
    Rubee looks up then, sees the woman. She glances at our cart and rolls her eyes. She picks up the security phone.
    Darius says, “Oops, I seem to have someone else’s cart.” And he leaves it there. Just abandons the cart in the line. He walks by me and past the guy ahead of us until he’s standing in front of Rubee. Rubee puts the phone down.
    I elbow my way past the guy so that I’m beside Darius. I struggle to meet her eyes. “Uh, sorry about the, uh, cart.”
    Darius just stands there. Finally he says to me,