Books by Philip Hoy

Keep the Change

When you get to the Volkswagen, Rudy and CC are already waiting. You unlock the passenger side and tilt the seat forward. CC climbs in first with Rudy right behind her, but you push the seat back before he can follow. “Dude,” you say, your hand on his chest. “Sit in the front seat.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says, getting in. “Someone’s gotta DJ, right?”

When you come around to your side, Luz is sliding her hand up along the curve of the bug’s domed top. “Nice car, Lil’ Boot,” she says with a knowing look. Then, before climbing in, she reaches up and gives your shoulder a tight squeeze. “You’re taking care of it, right? Checking the oil regularly? All that?”

“Yeah, Luz, of course.”

“Okay.” She releases you with a firm pat on the arm and slips behind your seat.

The engine sputters to life and you pull away from the curb in a tight U-turn, planning to head back through the neighborhood the way you came in. Near the party house, someone standing in the middle of the street begins to wave as you approach. You roll your window down and stop next to her. It’s Ruth.

“Hey,” she says. “Got room for one more?”

“Hell yes,” says Rudy opening his door, but her eyes are on you and she doesn’t move until you smile and nod.

“Dude,” you say, turning to Rudy who is already out of the car with the seat forward. “Now you should get in the back.”

“Oh, right.”

But Ruth is already around the car and climbing behind the seat. “No,” she says. “I’ll sit with the girls.”

You steal a glance past Rudy toward the party house. The front yard is quiet again, everyone gone back inside except the two bouncers standing near the side gate. One catches you staring and steps from the shadows with his arms crossed. You quickly turn away, and as soon as Rudy is back inside, take off.

“I’m Ruth,” you hear her say, and in the rearview mirror you see that she has wedged herself between Luz and CC.

“Luz, we met inside.”

“Oh yeah, Star Wars.”

“And this is CC,” says Luz.

“Rudy,” says Rudy, twisting around in his seat. “We’re going to Foster Freeze. You hungry?”

“Starving,” she says, and then catches you looking at her in the mirror. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“No problem,” says Rudy.

You make your way out of the neighborhood and onto the backroads again.

“So,” says Luz, stretching the vowel. “Boyfriend problems?”

Ruth catches you in the mirror again, and you vow to keep your eyes on the road. “Something like that,” she says.

“Well, you won’t get any of that here,” says Luz. “Right Rudy?”

He turns toward the back with a vacant, I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear anything you just said, look.

“I love your skirt,” you hear Ruth say.

CC makes a noise, followed by something that sounds like, “Thanks.”

“You have such long legs,” says Ruth. “I’m not sure it would look as nice on me.”

Luz clears her throat. “Ah, I wouldn’t sell yourself short.”

The backseat goes quiet.

“Get it?” says Luz, chuckling to herself. “Sell yourself short? You know, because CC is really tall and—”

“Oh my God,” says CC. “We get it.”

Luz just laughs. “Come on, Lil’ Boot. Tell me that wasn’t a good one.”

“Good one, Luz.”

“Little Boot?” Ruth asks.

“Yeah, you know,” Luz begins to explain.

You quickly turn to Rudy. “Dude, where’s the music?”

“Oh, sorry.” He switches on the stereo and the Clash pick up where they left off earlier. You can’t tell what’s going on in the back seat, and you’re determined not to look, but by the time Mick Jones begins the refrain to “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” it sounds like everyone, including CC, is singing along.

“Ruth!” Luz shouts. “They’re playing your song!”

“Hey,” complains Ruth in a pouty voice. “Not fair.”

“If you stayed?” asks CC, her deep, nasally tone cutting through the music. “Was there going to be trouble?”

This starts Luz laughing.

“You know, CC,” says Ruth, sounding annoyed, and you wonder just how much she regrets coming along. “I think if I stayed, it was going to be double.”

“Ah, ha, ha!” cackles Luz, pounding the back of your seat. “Lil’ Boot, I like this girl!”

“Rock the Casbah” is next and you all seem to know that one as well. Except when CC improvises her own line, “The boy he was a stand-in for the real girl feel,” which gets Luz going again.

“What?” says CC. “I can’t fucking understand a thing he’s saying.”

Rudy is reorganizing the cassettes in the glove box and doesn’t seem to notice. As soon as “Casbah” ends, he ejects the tape and pops in a new one. The sliding bass and bouncing intro of David Bowie’s “Modern Love” takes over.

“Oh, good one,” says Ruth.

Closing time at Foster Freeze is notoriously inconsistent, so when you arrive you are relieved to see that the lights are still on inside even though the place is nearly empty with what looks like only a single corner table in use. The parking lot, on the other hand, is more than half full. You spot Eric’s Datsun and pull into an empty space close by. As the five of you make your way to the front, you discover Eric and Gus already there, along with at least a dozen other people, all crowded around the front door. You recognize a few of them from school. None from the party, you hope.

“Did you knock?” someone asks.

“Of course, I knocked,” someone else replies.

“Maybe they didn’t hear you.”

“Here’s someone. Finally.”

The owner appears at the door. He’s a small man, shiny bald on top, with an otherwise full head of dark hair, including a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. Exchange his sweaty, white polo and snug blue apron for a long brown robe and he’d pass for a medieval Friar. He rattles some keys in the lock and then opens the door just wide enough to block anyone from entering. “Sorry,” he says. “We’re closed.”

“Closed,” someone says. “What about them?”

He makes a cursory glance over his shoulder at the four occupants in the corner booth. “They’re about to leave.”

“They don’t look like they’re about to leave,” says Eric.

“Listen,” he says, raising his voice. “This is not the mall. You can’t just hang out. You have to buy something.”

“We got money,” says Luz.

“Sure, you do,” he says.

Rudy is standing on the walkway just in front of you. “Dude,” you whisper, pressing into his hand the roll of bills you picked up off the driveway back at the party, just after he got tossed into the grass.

He stares at it. “What the …?” he starts to say, but quickly catches on. “This enough for some combo meals?” he asks, holding up the rubber banned cash.

The owner, already closing the door, sees the wad and gives Rudy time to approach. “How many?” he asks, eyeing the money.

Rudy takes his time looking over both shoulders, as if counting heads. “One for each of us.”

The owner holds out his hand. Rudy begins to pass him the roll, then hesitates. “That come with a frosty cone?” he asks.

“No, a shake,” says the owner, taking the money from Rudy and removing the rubber band. “We’re out of chocolate. Strawberry only.” He pushes his thumb over the top of each bill one at a time, lightning fast, moving the pile from one hand to the other. About halfway through he asks, “For everyone?”

“Yes.”

He looks over his shoulder at the four in the booth, a couple of sodas and a half-eaten tray of fries between them. “Them too?”

“Sure, why not?”

He pushes the door open and steps out of the way. “Let me ring you up.”

“Why don’t you hang onto the change,” says Rudy. “In case anyone else shows.”

“Dude, you’re awesome,” someone says as the group files inside.

“Yeah, totally cool.”

“Thanks, man, appreciate it.”

Rudy nods magnanimously, eating it up.

“You and your friends are just full of surprises, aren’t you, Lil’ Boot,” says Luz, following Ruth and CC inside.

Eric is staring at you. “How the hell did you manage that?”

You shrug. “It was on the ground. I picked it up.”

“Yeah, I figured. I meant her.”

“Ruth? She needed a ride.”

“Don’t get us wrong,” says Gus, putting his arm around your shoulder. “We’re proud of you, man. We’re just wondering how much longer you have to live.”

“Dude, what the hell,” you say. “He doesn’t own her.”

“That’s the spirit,” says Gus, patting you on the back.

Eric turns to Rudy. “Keep the change? You know how much money you owe me?”

“I said, hold onto the change. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, sure there is.”

Inside, the girls have taken one of the center tables. Ruth sees you and waves you over. “We thought we could move that one over here,” she says, pointing to the next table for four. “That way we can all sit together.”

“On it,” says Gus, grabbing one end. Rudy hurries around him to help with the other side, and when the tables are joined, he is conveniently right next to CC. Eric takes a seat next to Rudy, Gus is on the end, then it’s you next to Ruth, and Luz on the other end across from Gus.

At night, with wall-to-wall windows on three sides, the place is a fishbowl. So, you’ve already had time to assess the loiterers in the corner before coming in. The girls at the table you don’t know, but you recognized the guys right away, a couple of Izod wearing hot-shots from school you’ve learned to avoid. They are brothers or cousins at least, both with the same compact builds, short curly hair, and blunt features. Boxers, you’ve heard. Nobody messes with them. Now you keep them in the periphery of your vision, careful not to make eye contact.

Some of the others have also pushed tables together nearby. One of them, wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt, is twisting around in his chair. “Hey Gus, I just realized that was you.”

“Manny,” says Gus, “What’s up?” You recognize him and his shirt from school, though he’s not in any of your classes. One of Gus’s math buddies, you assume.

“Any good parties?” Manny asks, eyes skittering over the girls at your table.

“We just came from one in Sunny Palms,” says Gus.

“Where’s that?”

“Those new homes near the school?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, head nodding. “How was it?”

“It was okay,” says Gus. “They were charging three dollars at the door.” And then, as if he’s some kind of authority on house parties, he adds, “Eh, I guess it was worth it, at least for the beer. You guys?”

“Oh,” he says. “We were at the game.”

Rudy looks his way. “There was a game? Did we win?”

“No,” says a girl at Manny’s table without turning around.

“Away game,” he says, “and yeah, no, we lost. We took the rooter bus. Just got back, but you know.” There go his eyes again, hesitating mostly on Ruth. “Who wants to go home, right?”

“Right,” says Gus.

“Well, hey, enjoy yourselves.” Looking toward Rudy, he adds, “Thanks again, man.” Then he turns to rejoin the conversation at his table.

“The rooter bus,” says Ruth. “Man, that brings back memories. When we were freshmen, my friend and I used to take it to away games all the time. It was fun.”

“How about dances?” asks Rudy. “You go to those?”

You give him a threatening look, which he either misses or ignores.

“No, not really,” she says. “At least not at school.”

“Wow, no school dances, huh? So, did anybody here go to the dance?” Now he looks your way, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Matt, you did, didn’t you?”

“You did?” asks Ruth, turning toward you. “How was it?”

“It was okay.”

“Just you, Matt, by yourself?”

“Yes, Rudy,” you say, punching both syllables in his name. “All by myself.”

“Well, no, actually,” says Luz. “He was supposed to meet my friend Claudia there.”

“Oh yeah,” says Gus. “We saw her, didn’t we?”

CC turns to Rudy. “I thought you said you didn’t go.”

“We were just checking on our man, Matt, here, making sure he was behaving himself.”

“Saw her,” says Luz. “But you told me you missed her.”

Gus is frowning thoughtfully. “Yeah, she was tall with long hair.” You kick at him under the table, but only get the leg of his chair.

“I did miss her. But Luz, I swear. I waited a long time.”

“Oh,” says Gus, his voice fading to a whisper. “That’s right.”

“What the fuck, Lil’ Boot?”

“Look, I feel really bad about it.”

“You met someone else at the dance,” says Ruth. “Didn’t you.”

Suddenly, it all becomes too much. You can take Rudy’s pokes, and even Luz’s temper, but Ruth? You cross your arms and lower your head, covering your eyes with one hand.

“Hey,” she says, brushing the back of your head with the tips of her fingers, which only further confuses you. “You thought she wasn’t coming, right? It wasn’t intentional.”

“Ah, whatever,” says Luz, the anger gone from her voice. “That girl is late everywhere she goes.”

Feeling foolish, you lower your hand and sit upright.

“But she didn’t see you with this other person, did she?” asks Luz.

Now you cover your face with both hands.

“Ah, shit.”

“So,” says CC. “Who was it? Who did you meet?”

“Come on now,” says Rudy, as if all this wasn’t his doing. “My boy doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“You kissed her then,” asks Ruth, withdrawing her hand, “this girl?”

A towering tray of individually wrapped burgers hits the table with a dull clatter. “Twenty-four cheeseburger-fries special,” announces the server, who you also recognize from school, even with the black hair-net pulled down to his eyebrows.

“What’s up, Rabbit?” says Eric, reaching for a burger.

“Hey, Eric,” he says, around a pair of exceptionally large front teeth. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We heard there was free food.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, sounding tired.

You each take a burger.

“Where are the fries?” asks Rudy.

“I only have two hands,” he says. “And one only, please. These are for everyone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Rudy, putting one back. “And our milkshakes?”

His eyes narrow in Rudy’s direction before moving on to the next group.

“The little shit better not forget our milkshakes,” mumbles Rudy around a mouthful of burger, bread, and cheese.

Little shit or not, you think, taking a bite of your own, his timing is perfect.

A moment later, the owner appears with the fries. Rabbit comes by with a squirt bottle of ketchup for each table, and eventually, the strawberry shakes. The restaurant grows quiet as everyone digs in, and then slowly the chatter returns.

“These are the best burgers,” says Gus.

“Not better than Andy’s,” says Eric.

“Well, they’re better than Andy’s right now, aren’t they?”

Eric shrugs, “Yeah, you got me there.”

“Excuse me, Matthew,” Ruth says, her knee pushing against your thigh as she reaches past you for the ketchup. She squirts some onto the corner of the burger wrapper she’s using for a plate. “Sorry,” she says, leaning over you again to return the bottle. She sits back, dips a fry in her ketchup, and plops it into her mouth. “Good?” she asks, smiling at you.

“Yeah?” you say, and then realize that her leg is still touching yours. “You?”

She rubs against you with her knee. “Perfect.”

To Be Continued...

This story is a work in progress — I’m writing it as fast as I can! More episodes in this thread coming soon. While you are waiting, feel free to return to the beginning: if you make different choices you will get a different story. 

I would love to hear from you!

THE MISADVENTURES OF MATTHEW VAN DER BOOT is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental … no matter how many times you ask.