Page 118 of What Boys Learn

The girl and I are standing about a foot apart, which seems too close, but then again, we’re both trying to read the same three-by-five note cards tacked above eye level, and some of them are handwritten. One person is looking for someone to clean their sailboat, one time only. Another person wants a cook and deckhand to come along for a weeklong trip.

“It’s hard to read some of these,” she says, taking a half step closer to me. I look down and smile, stepping back a little. “You can tell which ones are the old men. They have really messy handwriting.”

I look where she’s pointing and laugh. The note card is covered with shaky blue scrawl.

“On the positive side, if that person’s a pervert you can probably get away from them.”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Old guys can get around fast with those walkers.”

“And anyone can beat you with a cane.”

She’s still smiling, a deep dimple showing. Glossy lips, pink, not that drawn-on dark red lipstick look. She might not be wearing any makeup at all. Jaw-length light brown hair, wavy and messy, with a stripe of blue that’s started to fade. She has a daypack slung over her shoulder. Full, but not huge. A patch on her army jacket saysMACMURDO ANTARCTICA RESEARCH STATION.

“Don’t tell me you’ve sailed all the way there.”

She sees where I’m pointing. “No. I got this jacket from a thrift shop.”

Without looking up, I can still hear the sound of water gushing into a plastic container. He’s watching. Probably overfilling the container or emptying it when no one’s looking, so he has an excuse to stay within eavesdropping range. He’s probably surprised I’m doing this well.I’msurprised. Small talk is hard, and we’re not even at school where I’d have obvious things to say.

“I actually think the badge is a fake,” she says, still staring straight ahead at the board. “McMurdo is spelled wrong. There’s noAin it, really. I’ve thought of ripping it off, but it would leave a hole.”

I keep thinking she’ll reshoulder her bag and walk away, but she doesn’t.

“So, you’re looking for a job?”

For the first time, she turns and gives me a less-thanfriendly squint. Something went wrong. I asked a question. Before, we were just taking turns. Making observations, making jokes. Keeping to our own turf.

I’m about to give up and walk away when she touches my arm. She points to Dr. C.

“Your dad keeps looking at us. I think he’s wondering why you’re talking to a strange girl for so long.”

I resist the urge to tug at the neck of my T-shirt, even though it’s feeling suddenly, uncomfortably tight. “Yeah. He tells me not to talk to strangers. Especially strangers with backpacks and suspicious badges from places they’ve never traveled.”

She laughs. “Because I’m gonna what, rip you off?”

“Maybe. You might pretend you’re a boat cleaner or a dog walker or something, and then just . . . murder me. Take our boat and sail all the way from here to the Atlantic.”

I got that part from Dr. C. We are way inland but I guess it’s possible, lake to river to more lakes and finally salt water.

She laughs again. “So heisyour dad.”

“Uncle,” I say, taking a risk. “Not my favorite one.”

She pulls a face. “I hope he doesn’t know that.”

“Well . . .” I’m getting a rush. It’s working. But I also feel like someone in a movie, playing blackjack at a Las Vegas casino, and I don’t know when to ask for a new card and when to fold. “He’s probably figured out I’m not that eager to sail with him today or I wouldn’t be here, hanging out at the bulletin boards for this long. Obviously, he knows I don’t need a job.”

“So, what did you tell him when you walked over here?”

“That I was checking the lost and found notices.” I point to a small corner of the board with cards about found items: White tennis visor. One sandal. A cat. “I lost my phone yesterday.”

“Aw.” She turns to face me and she touches my arm again. The same spot she touched before. “That’s the worst!”

I feel warm inside. Hot even. But I also feel shaky.

“That must be making your day extra long,” she says, nose squished and eyes half closed. A cute face I’d find annoying if we weren’t alone and she wasn’t making it just for me. “I mean, at least you could half ignore an uncle if you had a phone.”

Why isn’t she getting it?It’s easy. Just leave.