Page 40 of Ordinary Secrets

Ever since Trey stopped frolicking around the grass like he’s a cartoon character, he’s been telling me funny stories about the early days of his band.

“Yep, that was our first unofficial band name. Kevin and Marcus came up with it. They were arguing over whose dick was bigger. Marcus said, and I quote, ‘Bro, I’m Black. When I take mine out, it falls and goes ka-boom.’”

I could sit here all night listening to this man tell me stories. “How did you end up becoming Flames in the Night?”

“The brains of the band, of course. Liz and Emmy were our final additions. They wanted a name that represented our band’s diversity. Kevin is half Chinese, and Liz is half Hispanic. Marcus is Black, and Emmy’s family is from the UK. Liz said that our diversity makes us stand out. What stands out better than fire in darkness?”

“You boys are so lucky you have Liz and Emmy around.”

“No kidding. Without them, we’re a—” Trey’s head snaps to the right. A frown replaces his smile as he glares off into the trees.

I glance that way but don’t see anything to be frowning about. “Everything okay?”

His head whips back to me. “Uh, yeah.” Forcing a half smile, he says, “What were you saying?”

“I wasn’t. You were.”

“Oh, right. I was saying that without the girls, we’re a mess.” His head snaps to the right again. This time, his face twists like there’s something sour in the air. Under his breath, he grumbles something. It’s so quiet, the only words I catch are “ignore it.”

Ignore what?

For a moment, we sit in silence. Trey glares at his water glass with a crumpled look on his face like he’s contemplating life—hard. He must come to some sort of decision, because with a creak of the wicker, he’s out of his chair with his wallet out.

After tossing three hundred-dollar bills onto the table, he says, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

And just like that, he’s gone. He doesn’t even grab his jacket before sprinting away as if the restaurant is on fire.

Where is he going?Curiosity takes me over as I grab my purse and his jacket and run after him. It probably looks like we’re pulling a dine-and-dash, but I’m confident those three bills will cover double what we ordered and a hefty tip.

When I catch up to Trey on the sidewalk, he’s glowering at the groups of people strolling the busy street.

“Are you okay?”

He jumps and flips around. “I thought I said to stay at the table.”

“Yeah, but?—”

He doesn’t let me finish. Roughly, he snatches his jacket from me and shoves his arms into it. “Stay here. Please. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for me to respond, he runs off again, zigzagging around pedestrians with the speed of a wild animalchasing its prey. I run behind him, a little less aggressively, spitting out apologies to the people with crooked faces left behind in his path.

I almost lose him when he turns a corner down a backstreet. At the end of the alley is shouting and laughing. Three teenage boys stand over a smaller teenage boy on the ground, kicking him. Before I can process anything else, a loud voice yells, “Stop!”

The three teenagers jerk their heads up. The bulkiest one steps forward with his hands up in surrender. “Chill. We’re just playin’ a game.”

Trey gestures toward the boy on the ground. “It doesn’t look likehe’shaving fun.”

“No worries, dude,” the tallest teenager says. “We’re all friends.”

Trey turns to the boy, who’s still covering his face with his arms. “You okay, buddy?”

The boy sits up, making a movement with his hands, and mouths something.

“He’s fine,” the bulky teenager says. “It’s just a game.”

Trey scowls, then moves his hands around too. The kid on the ground widens his eyes as he picks himself up. He rubs his ribs a little, then moves his hands again. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s using sign language.

When Trey communicates back the same way, the three bullies drop their jaws. I do too. I had no idea Trey knew sign language.

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