One for the Angels

“Do you wanna play 20 Questions again?” Danny asked.

I looked at him, surprised. We hadn’t played it in a while, and I’d always been the one to suggest it (or force it), so it was strange that he was bringing it up. There had to be something on his mind that he didn’t want to ask me outright.

“Uh, okay,” I agreed, handing over some tea and a cinnamon roll. He looked at it for a long moment, turning it around in his hands. “What? What’s wrong with it?” I asked, somewhat defensively. “Answer wisely; I made it,” I added.

“Nothing’s wrong with it.” He took a bite and closed his eyes for a second. “I just love cinnamon rolls. This is good. You really made this yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s good,” he said, taking another huge bite. “Anyways, I’ll start. Do you live alone?”

I raised my eyebrows at him and he flushed a little. Danny rarely got embarrassed, so I enjoyed the brief moment before answering. “No. I have two roommates. They’re okay. I don’t see them much. What’s your favorite book?”

“Probably The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Everything he wrote was incredible, but that one in particular is my favorite. Do you go to college?”

“We’re really getting personal, huh?” I said. It didn’t bother me, but I privately thought it was sort of unfair that he could ask all of these probing questions and yet the second I tried to do the same I was shut out immediately. “No, I don’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t believe it’s your turn. Favorite holiday?”

“Halloween. Why don’t you go to college?”

I sighed. “I did, for a little while. More like two months. It just wasn’t for me. I was majoring in Economics and I hated it, so I just stopped going to all my classes. It worked for a little while, and then finally I called my parents and told them I wanted to drop out.”

“What’d they do?”

“They were pissed off. They were the ones who wanted me to major in Economics in the first place.But since they couldn’t exactly make me go to class, they said I could leave, but that I’d have to fend for myself. So I found an ad in the paper that two girls had put in, looking for one more person to live with them and pay the rent. And my roommate Sarah introduced me to Hannah, who gave me a job at the coffee shop. I’ve been working here since the beginning of November.” I closed my mouth, feeling like I’d said too much. Were we even playing 20 Questions anymore?

“What do you wanna do instead?”

I shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to be an artist. And I’m pretty okay at it, I guess. So when I have enough money saved up, I’m going to try and go to an art school.”

“So your mom and dad aren’t helping you at all? Like, they don’t care?”

“I guess not. I haven’t heard from them since I dropped out.”

Danny’s eyes widened. “Wow.”

I felt weird, like I’d opened myself up and allowed him to look at my insides. I didn’t like talking about what had happened this past year with other people, for obvious reasons, but with Danny I felt oddly comfortable, like he understood what it was like to be alone, in a way.

“I’m nothing like you, though,” I said quickly, before I could lose my nerve. “I mean, you’re out here alone with nothing. I’ve got stuff. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Me?” Danny said, surprised. I nodded, and he hesitated. “I didn’t . . . I’m out here by choice. No one forced me to leave or anything. In fact, I don’t think anyone wanted me to. You . . . you didn’t have an option. You’re out here with no support, nothing. And yet you have a place to live and a job and stuff. You didn’t let yourself get knocked down. That’s a really hard thing to do. I wish I was as brave as you, Juno.”

I’d never really thought of myself as ‘brave’ before. It was either continue going to school and study something I hated, or find another option, fast. I glanced up and saw Danny gazing at me with something like admiration. Our eyes locked, and suddenly everything got much too close and too quiet. He smiled a little, and I smiled back.

Finally, I swallowed and looked away. “Well, um, see you later.”

“Okay.” He seemed just as startled as me. “The game’s not over yet, by the way,” he called to my retreating back. I waved at him over my shoulder.

As I finished my shift, all I could think about was the few bits and pieces that he’d shared with me: that he’d run away by choice, and maybe there were people at home (was it home, though?) who’d wanted him to stay there just as much as I wanted him to stay now.