Page 28 of Possibly Texas

I cut down to the post office when I neared the creek and found that nothing unusual was going on at Sofia’s place of work. When I walked by, she saw me through the window and waved, obviously remembering me, so I waved back. I raised my hands in question and she shook her head, letting me know there wasn’t any mail for me to pick up for Jack. So, I waved again and cut to my right to head towards Starbuck’s.

Levi Lee was outside, doing his robot routine again. He was getting better. When I smiled and waved at him, the corners of his mouth jerkily raised and he mechanically raised his arm, then waved it back and forth like a metronome. Good for you, Levi Lee.

I thought about stopping for another coffee since I still had the twenty bucks in my pocket that Jack had given me, but I knew that Levi Lee would talk to me. He was doing so well at his robot routine that I didn’t want to ruin his vibe.

Further down the street, at The Pueblo, I saw a few people walking into the building out of the corner of my eye. Wyatt’s gun went off in the distance and a cry of “Emmmmmiiiiiileeeee!” sounded by the bridge as I turned to check out the mosque-like building. I smiled to myself as I thought about how I hadn’t even twitched when Wyatt’s gun went off. I was already getting used to his poor timing.

When my eyes settled on a person standing in the doorway of The Pueblo, my breath caught in my throat. At first, the person in the doorway didn’t really register with my brain since I had been thinking about the gunshot and the screaming of the guy down at the bridge. However, it finally dawned on me that the person lingering in the doorway of The Pueblo was the kid I’d seen twice in the clearing in the woods. Of course, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he had on jeans with a flowery scarf as a belt, flip-flops, and what I realized was his standard tank top, I might not have realized it was him. When he shifted slightly so that I could see the white triangle of hair and matching, mirror-image white triangle of skin on his forehead, I knew I wasn’t mistaken.

Instinctively, I wanted to look away, for fear that he might turn and see me staring. I didn’t want him to think I was staring for the wrong reason. Like, I didn’t want him to think I was going to make fun of his clothes or the…birthmark?…on his head. My eyes refused to be averted, though. I stood there, a few yards away from The Pueblo, just staring at the kid as he loitered in the doorway, watching something intently inside of the building. After a few moments, I realized that he was too focused on whatever he was watching to be aware of anyone watching him. So, I did. Watch him, I mean. I stood there, between Starbuck’s and The Pueblo, and just stared at him.

The kid’s level of concentration on whatever was going on inside of the building was mesmerizing. I’d never seen someone so self-possessed. The way he was dressed, the unusual marking on his forehead and in his hair—surely, he knew that people might be staring at him. However, he didn’t seem to care about anything going on around him. He had simply found something that interested him and had shut out the outside world, unconcerned with what people might think of him and what he was doing.

Against my will, I found my feet shuffling towards The Pueblo, drawing me closer to the boy in the doorway. Moments later, I found myself standing behind the kid, close enough that I could reach out and tap him on the shoulder if I wanted. Either he hadn’t noticed me move up behind him or he just hadn’t cared. Or maybe he thought I was about go into The Pueblo and just hadn’t paid me any mind because of it. Regardless, I stood there and stared at the back of him as he stared into the building. I hadn’t even bothered to look inside the building to see what it was that had drawn his laser-like focus. Suddenly, it dawned on me that I had been calling everyone in Possibly a “weirdo” and I was being the weirdest of them all.

“Hey.” I heard my voice but hadn’t remembered willing myself to speak.

The boy jerked slightly at my sudden intrusion. Then, finally realizing that I was speaking to him, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at me.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “Uh, I mean, what are you looking at?”

The boy blinked slowly, as though he had to adjust his focus from what he had been looking at to this person who was nosily asking him about his business.

“What?” He shook his head as if clearing away thoughts. “Uh, what?”

His voice was melodic, yet deeper than I had expected. Maybe his outfits made me think his voice would be higher or child-like. But he had the voice of a grown man, regardless of his fashion sense.

“Uh,” I said, “what are you looking at? In The Pueblo?”

Again, the boy was blinking at me, as though coming out of some stupor.

Oh, great. This guy is going to be the weirdest of everyone here. I thought. Why should I have expected anything else? Look at the way he dresses.

“Sorry.” He sputtered. “I was—they’re making anamorphic wire sculptures today. I—I was watching them. It’s fascinating.”

The two of us just stared at each other for a moment.

“I have no idea what that is,” I finally said.

The boy’s eyes lit up, and for a moment, I thought he was going to explain what exactly an anamorphic wire sculpture—or whatever—was, but a shadow crossed over his face and he stopped himself from looking so excited.

“Uh, just art stuff?” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

As we stood there, staring at each other again, I let my eyes wander up to the white diamond that looked like it had been stamped on the kid’s forehead and hair. When my eyes wandered back to his, he was looking down at his feet. No longer self-possessed, he looked anxious. Obviously, he realized I was a stranger to Possibly, and he had no idea if I was going to be rude to him.

“I’m, uh, Jordan.” I reached out with my hand. “Jordan Burke. I’m, uh, Jack Burke’s stepson? I’m kind of staying with him. For now.”

The kid wiped his hand on the thigh of his jeans, then reached out and gently took my hand. He shook it firmly, though I could tell he was still unsure about me.

“Auguste. Anderson,” he answered shyly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. Same.” I nodded as our hands slid away.

Suddenly, the kid’s last name clicked in my head.