Whippoorwill by Joseph Monninger Read Free Book Online

you.”
    â€œYou didn’t care to know me. That’s the truth. You put me over in a little box and you figured that was all you needed to find out about me.”
    â€œDanny, you’ve always been a jerk around the neighborhood.”
    He looked at me, then smiled. Then he laughed. It was a good laugh.
    â€œYou’re probably right,” he said. “Don’t spare my feelings.”
    â€œYou just were,” I said, feeling the tension I had held in all evening come bubbling up. “You annoyed a lot of people, not just me. Sorry, but you asked. Besides, you didn’t like me, either.”
    â€œMy dad always called you Apple Annie,” Danny said. “You used to eat apples all the time, so that’s what he called you.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous.”
    â€œIt was just a name he gave you,” Danny said. “Don’t sweat it.”
    â€œWhat are we doing here?” I asked.
    â€œWe’re getting a hamburger, that’s all. Is there a law against it?”
    â€œI mean, why did you ask me to come out here?”
    â€œBecause you’re hot.”
    â€œI am so not hot,” I said, blushing.
    â€œDepends who’s looking. I think you are.”
    â€œThis is ridiculous.”
    Danny raised his eyebrows. He had gray eyes, slightly closed lidded, like a cat waking from a nap. I liked watching his face, I realized. He had an expressive face. It was almost like he was acting, but he wasn’t acting, so it was okay. I couldn’t make my mind push past the notion that he thought I was hot. No, I reminded myself, he
said
I was hot, but that didn’t amount to a hill of beans. Guys said anything to girls. They just did.
    Fortunately, the counter girl called us up for our food before we could go any deeper into things. I went up with Danny, and he paid. I didn’t know if that made it a date or not, but I supposed it did. He had a wallet made of duct tape, I noticed. It was gray and sleek. He slid it back into his pocket and held the tray in front of him on the way back. He told me to grab ketchup and some napkins from a counter. I did. We slid back into the booth just as the music changed. It was still country western, but it was a guy singing about loyalty and horses and something about a pickup.
    â€œThank you,” I said when Danny slid my plate off the tray.
    â€œYou’re welcome. They have buffalo burgers you should try sometimes. They taste pretty good and they’re supposed to be better for you.”
    â€œHow’d you find out about this place?”
    â€œOh, I don’t spend much time at home if I can help it. Not exactly a fun, family environment.”
    He smiled. It was a joke, I realized. Then he bit into his hamburger. It was big and he had to hold it between his hands like someone playing an enormous harmonica. A little juice dripped back on his plate. At least he kept his mouth closed when he chewed.
    I took a bite. It was good.
    â€œWhat I like to do,” Danny said, referring back to how he had found out about the place, although at first I didn’t follow his train of thought, “is drive. I don’t know why. I like driving, and I like working on my car, and it’s just feeling good with the window down. Maybe it’s a boy thing, I don’t know. But I go on little trips and get myself lost, and then I try to figure out how to get home, and how things are laid out. I have a gazetteer under the passenger seat and it has these maps all blown up so you can see the countryside, and I like pulling that out and comparing the roads to where I am and seeing the landmarks. You know, if you pay attention, you can see why things were built the way they were. Like, why did they put in a railroad here, down by the river, and then you realize, well, they had to follow the river because that’s the natural way for the valley to run. I mean, it’s not like they were going to put a train over a