The Legend of the Ditto Twins (5 page)

"...Go-To
Guy. Get it?"

"I
guess," said Dad. "Like The Answer Man?"

"Exactly.
We hardly ever see him, except..."

“...at
recess."

"Well,
why don't you invite him over sometime?" Mom started clearing away the
breakfast dishes without waiting for an answer. "You'd better get moving.
You're gonna be late. And come right home after school, so we can start moving
things."

"But...
But we can't come home right after school." I persisted.

"We've
got Vocabulary Club..."

“...
and by the time we
get home, it'll be too late..."

"And,"
I added, "we have an English test tomorrow..."

“...on
To Kill
a Mockingbird..."

“...
and we haven't read
the last three chapters..."

“...
so you see, moving
is out of the question."

Clark
made it sound non-negotiable. I nodded and started out of the
room,
motioning him to follow.

"Just one minute, you two!"

We stopped and turned around. Mom’s
eyes drilled into ours, unable to determine if we were lying or not.

"Okay," she muttered.
"But Saturday we move one of you into Grandma’s room. Saturday. And that's
final."

I wish we'd talked things over on the
way to school that morning, but we both were so overwhelmed with a panic we
didn't understand that we just rode our bikes in silence.
Separate rooms!
Plus, there was no time
during the day to be alone and analyze the impossible situation that loomed on
Saturday.
Separate beds!
Anyway, it wasn't until we were heading home that we began to discuss our
crisis.

"Mark? What are we gonna
do?"

"I was just gonna ask you the
same thing. Shit."

"I don't suppose we could run
away from home. Shit."

"Where would we go?

"New York, maybe. I'll bet we
could find work there."

"Doing what?"

He shrugged his shoulders.
"Waiters, maybe. Or taxi drivers. No! I've got it! Become models. Like on
TV. We're good-looking enough. Everyone says so."

Clark laughed out loud. "Or
Hollywood. And become movie stars. Oh, sure." He paused. "And how
would we get there? Ask for an advance on our allowance?"

"I never thought of that."
We walked our bikes in silence for ten minutes before I got an idea.
"Maybe we should talk this over with The Go-To Guy. He might have..."

“...
an idea.
He hates his mom and dad."

Ten minutes later we parked our bikes
outside Walgreens, but he was nowhere in sight.

"This doesn't make sense,"
said Clark. "He's..."

“...always here. I know. This is
where he..."

“...hangs out. I know. Shit."

"Double shit." I took one
last look around. "Thank God we've still got
four
days till Saturday. We can always track him down tomorrow."

I squatted down and started fiddling
with the combination on my bi
cycle
padlock.
The first time I tried, it didn't click open. Now, ordinarily that would really
have ticked me off, but this time it didn't at all. Matter of fact, I took it
as a sign. And I told Clark so.

"A sign? Are you crazy?" he
asked.

"Maybe. But we're here. At
Walgreens."

"So?"

"And we're out of
cigarettes."

"So? We don't have any money,
even if..."

"Clark, no one's gonna sell them
to us anyway. You said so yourself last night. We're just gonna have
to..."

“...swipe em." My brother's eyes
grew wide, but within seconds, shrank into slits. "We're just gonna walk
in there like we know what we're
doin
' and swipe
em
, aren't we?"

I nodded.

"Okay." A moment later, he
added, "How?"

"Well, there's two of us. You
can go talk to Mr. Johnson, ask him about the Kiwanis. Just get him talking.
You're good at bull-shitting. And while you're distracting him, I'll just...
you know... swipe em."

Clark nodded. "Diversionary
tactics—like a S.W.A.T. team. Okay, yeah."

And then we just stood there.

And stood there.

Finally, I readjusted my backpack and
straightened my shoulders. "Okay. If we're gonna do it, let's do it!"

"Okay. On three."

Before we knew it, we were inside the
store. I didn't see Mr. Johnson anywhere. Instead, there was a young Asian girl
I'd never seen before standing at the cash register. And behind her was the
wall of cigarettes.

"Hi. Can I help you?"

"Uh... Is Mr. Johnson
here?" asked Clark.

"No, he's over at the Kiwanis.
He'll be back in half an hour. Maybe I can help you?"

Clark began to ease into
snowjob
mode. "Well, I dunno. Maybe you could. See, my
brother and me, we're trying to find something to buy for our mom's birthday.
It's Saturday, and we don't have much money. Got any ideas?"

"Uh... hmm. Does she have a cell
phone?"

"Hey, that's an idea. Now where
are they?"

She pointed to the back of the store.

"Great. Could you show us? We
don't know much about cell phones."

"Well, I really shouldn't leave
the counter. Mr. Johnson said... You know, shoplifters and stuff."

"Oh, yeah, sure. You really have
to be on the lookout."

She nodded. "Mostly, you high
school kids. Always trying to cop cigarettes."

Clark tried a wink. "Good thing
you don't sell beer."

She laughed.

He did too, then lapsed into what
appeared to be deep thought. "But... I dunno. Cell phones are kind of
expensive, anyway. You got anything a little cheaper?"

She looked around. "Oh, I know.
What about perfume? We're having a sale. Right down that aisle."

"Which aisle?"

She pointed. "Next one over. Big
yellow sign. Next to the Marlboro poster."

Clark started to back away from the
counter.

"No, I see it," I said,
stopping him. "No point in both of us wandering all over the store. I'll go
check it out." I smiled pointedly at him. "You two just keep talking.
Clark, help the lady guard her cigarettes."

She laughed. "So your name's
Clark, huh?"

My brother nodded. "What's
yours?" By now he was leaning on the
counter,
one hand brushing against hers.

I moved
down the aisle, my eyes barely clearing the shoulder-high row
of
well-stocked
shelves as I watched Clark continue the conversation. There was the perfume
display, just like she'd said, and right next to it a huge blow-up of a tall,
macho cowboy, and a bold red-and-white banner urging customers to buy Marlboros
by the carton. Special this week only! Two for the price of one!

"I
found it," I shouted across the store.

The clerk
called back, "If you have any questions..."

And then
she went back to staring at Clark's blond hair and blue eyes as they chatted
away. She was actually flirting with him. I was stunned. It had never occurred
to me that someone might find him...you know, hot.

"Give
me a sec," I said and squatted down, peering at the various bottles of
perfume and kneeling as if to examine them more closely. Once out of sight, I
crab-walked toward the stacks of cigarette cartons, quietly unzipped my
backpack, and (acknowledging the poster's generous offer) slipped two cartons
into it.

"You
find what you want?" I heard her call.

Quickly,
I crawled back to directly in front of the perfume display, grabbed a bottle,
and stood.

"How
much?" I asked, holding it up.

She told
me.

"Kind
of expensive." I replaced the bottle and returned to the counter.
"Tough call." I smiled at her to see if she thought I was hot, too.
"You be here tomorrow?"

"Every
day till six. Another hour."

I tried
to look surprised. "Its five o'clock already? Oh, shit. We've gotta get
home."

"Oh,
shit. That's right!" Clark turned to the girl. "See, our
grandmother's coming for dinner tonight."

We both
winked at her again as we began to ease away from the counter toward the front
door. "See you tomorrow."

Outside,
we unlocked our bikes as quickly as we could.

"Well?" asked Clark.
"Are we in business?"

I nodded as we pedaled away in
triumph.

"You are a phenomenal liar,
Clark," I giggled.

"Yeah. I'm learning."

We hadn't gone more than two blocks
when we saw The Go-To Guy climbing out of a brand new Lexus LS400 and waving
the driver a casual farewell. As the vehicle sped off, we slowed down and
braked, right in front of him. Almost ran him down. I spoke first.

"Hey, we've been looking for
you. Where've you been?"

He shrugged. "Around. You were
really
lookin
' for me? How come?"

"Uh... It's a long story."
I began.

He scratched his freckles. "I
got time."

I tried again. "See, it's our
folks."

Clark helped me. "They're being
real shitheads."

"Parents always are." He
lit a cigarette, right there on the street, but he didn't offer us one, thank
God. "My old man! Don't get me started. That ole bastard. Soon as I
graduate, I'm just gonna pack up and get out. Head for Chicago."

"Run away?" The words just
sort of tumbled out of Clark's mouth.

"Split. You bet your ass. Soon
as I get enough money."

"You'd really actually leave?
Leave home?"

"In a heartbeat."

Suddenly, he seemed a lot taller.

"I don't think we could do
that," admitted Clark.

A leer twisted the corner of our
buddy's mouth. "But you been
thinkin
about it,
huh?"

I paused. "Sort of."

"That bad, huh?"

"The pits."

"They don't get it," added
Clark.

"Then fuck em. Go ahead and
split."

"Our allowance wouldn't get us
very far."

The Go-To Guy nodded, paused
contemplatively, and glanced around as if about to reveal the secret of the
century. "Well, there's all kinds of
ways
to make a buck. Easy money. Even in this shitty town."

I beamed. "We knew you'd have an
idea."

So did Clark. "That's why we
were looking for you."

The Go-To Guy grunted, pitched his
cigarette, and took a step back
as if
to get a better picture of us. In
silence, his eyes wandered down our bodies, lingering a bit below the belt.
That made me kind of uncomfortable.

"You know, you guys could make a
shitload of money. You look so fuckin' young and innocent. Yeah, a
shitload."

"How?" we asked in one
voice.

He reached in his shirt pocket and
elaborately pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. Neither of us spoke. We just
watched as his other hand slithered into his hip pocket, found his wallet, and
opened it so that we could clearly see inside it. More bills. We just stared.
Satisfied that he had properly impressed us, he tucked the fifty in with the
others, snapped his wallet shut, and replaced it.