Chapter 5: The Check

The diner was three blocks off campus, under a flickering sign that read OPEN 24 HRS.

Quincy took the booth by the window.

I took the seat across from him and picked up the menu with both hands.

"Order whatever you want," he said.

"I will. I'm paying."

"No."

"Yes."

"You paid two dollars at three in the morning," he said. "I let you. That was a loan."

"Then we're even. This is a fresh account."

The waitress came, and I ordered a grilled cheese, a side of fries and a chocolate shake. Quincy ordered black coffee and eggs.

He watched me eat.

It wasn't unpleasant. He watched me with his whole attention, and he didn't look away.

"What?" I said, with my mouth full.

"You eat like someone who isn't scared."

"I'm not."

"You are. You just do it anyway."

I put the fry down.

"You're very observant for someone who texts in single words," I said.

"It's a gift."

The waitress came by with the check, and I reached for it.

It was already gone.

I looked up. Quincy had one hand on his wallet, and he was sliding a card into the little leather folder.

"I told you I was paying," he said.

"I told you I was."

"You said we'd see."

I stared at the folder in the waitress's hand.

I felt the old, quiet click in my chest.

It was the feeling of owing someone, and it meant I should already be leaving.

Nobody pays for me. I pay, and then I can leave.

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