Page 86 of Devil in Disguise
“You want to see him smile?” Jennifer asked.
“Seriously? He can smile?”
“Watch.” And there it was. Her mom making some baby-talk noises off camera, asking Nick if he was a good boy, if he loved his sister, and Nick’s face creasing into a gummy grin. And Dyma’s heart just about exploded.
“Wow,” she said. “Wow.”
“Harlan loves it,” Jennifer said, once her face had appeared again on the screen. “He talks right to him, asks him these really serious questions about whether he’s keeping me up at night and wearing his big-boy shoes like he’s supposed to, and Nick just smiles like anything. He sure loves his daddy.”
“Now, see,” Dyma said, “how could anything be more wholesome than you guys? You know what? I’m not going to worry any more about the show, or about my final today, which went OK, I think, or at least nottoohorribly, and anyway, it’s done. I’m just going to study some more for my Statics test, watch a little bit of a movie, and go to sleep, because I have to be at work at seven tomorrow morning.”
“You do that,” her mom said. “Worrying about me isn’t your job, baby. I’m happier than a woman has any right to be, and if there’s any problem, Harlan and I will deal with it. You just worry about you.”
Which was fine. Until the next day.
37
Awkward
At ten minutesto three on Wednesday afternoon, Dyma stood up, stuffed her calculator and pencils back into her backpack with as little noise as possible, walked to the front of the classroom, dropped her Scantron sheet and the stapled-together pages of her Statics exam into the bins, mouthed, “Thank you,” to the professor, slung her backpack onto her back, and walked out the door, leaving half of the class behind her.
If you finished every problem, checked your work, and still left early? You couldn’t have blown it.
She carried the euphoria with her all the way to the Rec Center despite the dash through the near-freezing rain, blew through the doors, and found Avery and Fletcher waiting.
“Hey,” she said. “Two down, one to go! How did you guys do? Man, I’m stiff. I need to work out hard.”
They didn’t answer, and she looked between them and asked, “What? Who crashed and burned? I hope it’s not you, Avery, because your mom is not playing. No Har Gow for you!” Because, yes, she’d had dim sum with them. Dim sum was amazing. College was supposed to open up opportunities, right? So far, it was mostlyfoodopportunities, but she’d take it, because, wow, could food be good. Braised pea shoots with garlic? Steamed buns with red bean paste? Yes, please.
Avery said, “There’s a thing.”
“What thing?” And when he didn’t answer right away, “Come on. Tell me.”
Fletcher held out his phone. Dyma clicked on the “Play” button of the video, and up came a montage of football shots. Owen snapping the ball, then standing up and making his block like the mountain he was, like nobody would ever move him. Harlan, his feet nearly thirty inches off the turf, his body curved in an impossibly graceful arc, his gloved hands closing around the ball.
A bull bison standing in the blowing snow, turning his massive head and starting to run. And her. In her holey sweater and fuzzy socks and looking about sixteen—barelysixteen—the way Owen always said she did without makeup.
The audio accompaniment was worse.
“The Harlan Kristiansen you never knew. Horrifying crimes, shocking scandals, heartbreaking loss, and the power of love. Mother versus daughter. Teammates at odds. A specialBuzzreport, tonight at nine, eight Central.”
She went climbing anyway. What else was she going to do?
* * *
Owen said,“Right. You ready for this?” Sitting on his bed in his hotel room, on a video call with Dyma.
He’d seen her text only a couple of hours ago.Help they are talking about all of us tonight. Nine o’clock your time. Mom says she won’t watch & Harlan won’t either. Not worth it she says. Also who cares. Last final tomorrow plus work so I shouldn’t watch. Can’t get distracted. How do I not though.
He hadn’t texted her back. He’d called her instead.
“They can show whatever they want,” he’d tried to explain. “Theywillshow whatever they want. It’s the Tao thing again. ‘Care about what other people think, and you will always be their prisoner.’ It’s better ignored.”
“What if they get it totally wrong, though?”
“Theywillget it totally wrong. They always do. Have you done anything to be ashamed of?”
“Ever? Well,yeah.”
