The Fingertips of Duncan Dorfman by Meg Wolitzer Page A

to smack another ball back, but Carl’s mother waved them inside. It was time for Duncan to leave.
    Mrs. Slater drove him to Thriftee Mike’s Warehouse, where Duncan’s mother was finishing up her workday. Caroline Dorfman had wanted him to meet her there so that Duncan could try on a few more shirts she’d picked out for him. During the ride, Duncan sat beside Mrs. Slater in the black car, which smelled like old smoke and perfume. There was a long, awkward silence, as there often was when you were alone with the parent of a friend.
    “So, Duncan,” said Mrs. Slater as the car pulled into the parking lot of the superstore. “Be sure to tell your mom that we’ve got everything taken care of for the big weekend. And also, please tell her I’ll be sending her a release form about those ads. We’ll need her signature.”
    “Okay.”
    “It’s going to be a great campaign,” she said. “Even though some people have a problem with the product.”
    “What do you mean?” Duncan asked. “What’s the product?”
    “Cigarettes.”
    Duncan stared at her. “Cigarettes?” Had he missed something when she was explaining the photo shoot?
    “Yes,” she said. “But it’s all extremely moral. You see, the company really, really doesn’t want kids to smoke. Until they’re old enough to make that decision for themselves. It’s a personal decision, of course. And we live in a free country.”
    “I didn’t know it was for cigarettes,” Duncan said in a faint, queasy voice.
    “Oh, I’m sure I mentioned it.”
    Duncan was becoming surer and surer that she hadn’t, but he didn’t know what to do. He felt panicky, and he gripped the door handle as though he could simply make a run for it.
    “As I’m certain I explained,” Mrs. Slater went on, “the ads are for the low-tar cigarette Smooth Moves. You and Carl will be shown playing a game together. And below the photo it will say something about how kids should only participate in wholesome activities. How they shouldn’t think about whether they want to smoke until they’re fully grown.”
    It seemed wrong to pose for an ad for cigarettes, Duncan thought, even if the ad said the company was against kids smoking. The company, he knew, was just waiting for today’s kids to grow up and become tomorrow’s smokers. An alarm went off inside him, telling him this wasn’t something he should take part in. It was the same alarm that sometimes rang in him when he thought about using his fingertips during the tournament.
    Get out now, he said to himself. Get out now . But he couldn’t; he didn’t know how.
    The car pulled up at the entrance of Thriftee Mike’s. “Thanks for the lift,” Duncan said miserably.
    “You’re welcome. I’m glad we worked everything out. I think you kids will have a terrific time down in Yakamee. It’s only thirteen days from now, isn’t that right? So exciting.”
    Duncan got out of the car and dizzily walked into the store. It was the end of the day, and Thriftee Mike’s was almost empty. A man and a woman stood in the huge, brightly lit space examining a lobster-shaped oven mitt they had picked out of a bin. Nearby, a little kid was pawing at a can of Cheezy Chips from another bin. Way across the store, a blond woman in a red smock waved to Duncan. It was his mother.
    He walked slowly toward her, wishing he could confess everything. What would his mother possibly say to him? She would be knocked out by all that he revealed. “Cigarettes? Are you serious? And about your power—Duncan, I asked you not to show anyone,” she’d say in a heartbroken voice. And then, “You know, if you use your left-hand fingertips that way at the tournament, it will be cheating .”
    “No it won’t,” he would insist. “Carl told me it won’t. There’s nothing about fingertips in the rule book.”
    But he didn’t trust Carl Slater’s opinion. He didn’t trust Carl or Carl’s mother.
    But still Duncan couldn’t tell his own mother the