Bright Lights, Dark Nights by Stephen Emond

believe any girl kissed softer or sweeter.
    She pulled away, put her hat back on. “Should we go back in?”
    I nodded. “We need to get Maelynne off Brownface’s lap.”
    â€œThey’re so wrong,” Naomi said, and shook her head. “Everyone is so wrong.”
    *   *   *
    I didn’t get home till almost midnight. I fell asleep right away and woke up after what felt like half an hour, though the sun was up, to an odd smell: breakfast being cooked. And there were sounds—clanking in the kitchen. This hadn’t happened in years. Dad hadn’t cooked breakfast since the whole family was still living together. Eggs were his specialty, fancy eggs with lots of stuff in them—cheeses and meats. Back then, he’d do it all the time.
    â€œWhere were you last night?” Dad asked as I shuffled into the kitchen.
    â€œWhat’s with the breakfast?” I asked him back, although I wasn’t about to turn down any Belgian waffles.
    There were smells of happiness and sunshine streaming in through the windows. I couldn’t remember waking up feeling this good, this open to possibility. I had, like, 74 percent of a girlfriend. I still had to ask her out, but that was just a technicality. I mean, someone was out there in the world waking up this morning, feeling the same sun, maybe smiling, maybe thinking about me the way I was thinking about her. That was amazing.
    â€œYou still in your clothes from yesterday?” Dad said quizzically.
    â€œWhat are you so happy for?”
    â€œIs that lipstick on your collar?”
    â€œNice try, Dad,” I said.
    â€œYou win, I’ll go first,” Dad said. “I had an interesting evening.” He bobbed his head a bit. This was proud Dad. “I’m on duty, around eight p.m., driving south down Broad Street, and see a car with a taillight out. No big deal, that’s routine. Car’s driving slow, though, so that’s a little suspicious. I pull him over.”
    Dad told me the story, how he pulls the kid over; the kid’s nervous. He checks around the car and sees all the stuff that Rosie had tipped him on. The kid says it’s his dad’s. He brings up Rosie, what happened to her, mentions the details he knows, the stuff he’s looking for, and the kid cracks and admits to everything.
    â€œHe’s just a scared little punk,” Dad said, wrapping up the story. “I take him down to the station. I’m out by nine thirty—easiest case I ever solved.”
    â€œCongrats,” I said. That was breakfast-worthy, I agreed.
    â€œYeah, this could be good, really good for me at work. I’m hoping,” Dad said. “And you? Good party?” He set down our food on the table, and we sat. I nodded. He gave me a suspicious eye, but Dad was feeling hopeful, and I was going to enjoy my waffles, because I felt hopeful, too.

 
    Chapter Six

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    We still hadn’t named this, whatever our relationship was. It was all new still. We’d kissed twice, so there was a closeness, but it was all unofficial. We were just a boy and a girl who kissed and liked each other. The next logical step in this budding romance was to meet up between every possible class, when we weren’t on complete opposite sides of the school. A few times a day we could spend most of the two minutes allotted between periods to walk to one of our classes together.
    â€œUncle Dave says hi,” I said to Naomi when I found her in the main hall after lunch.
    â€œTell Uncle Dave I want to make out with him,” Naomi said. “Just kidding. That’s horrible. I say stupid things.”
    For three days now, we could find each other between some classes, but I wasn’t sure how long I could keep it up, as I’d get to those classes late. This was a fairly new occurrence for me, and I don’t think my teachers had picked up on it yet, or else they didn’t view me as a