Harry walked away, aware that Felicia and her friends were watching, and paused in front of Alison. “Hey, Shandling,” he said pleasantly. And then, when she didn’t respond immediately, he raised his voice. “Hey, Shandling!”
She started up from her book like she’d been shot. But she didn’t say anything. She just looked at him like he was an ant.
Harry picked up Alison’s abandoned tray, held it suspended in the air over the floor for three slow seconds, and then let it go. It landed with a dull plastic thud. The seventh graders sitting at Alison’s table looked up and stopped talking.
Harry settled himself on the table in front of Alison, one leg swinging. “Nice hairstyle,” he said, reaching down to touch her hair, caught up in a ponytail. She jerked her head away. Harry smiled. “Whatcha reading?”
“Nothing you’d be interested in,” she said. Her voice was low, barely audible. “And I’d like to get back to it.” She looked down at her book again and made to turn a page. Her hand shook just a little.
Quickly, Harry snagged the book, wresting it easily from her. “But I don’t want to go away,” he said. “I want to find out how to be as smart as you are, Ms. Genius Shandling.”
She stared at him. She reached for her soda but her hand was still shaking and she didn’t pick it up, just clenched her fingers around it.
“Maybe,” said Harry, “if I read the same books as you, I’ll be a genius too. “What do you think?” He flipped the book open. “The Art of Mathematics. Hey! It’s a math book!”
Alison released the cup and made a sudden grab for the book, but Harry held it out of her reach. “Anxious, aren’t we?” he said.
“It’s my father’s,” said Alison fiercely. “You give it back.”
“Oho,” said Harry. He looked up, smiling genially at the kids all around them, who were watching as if this were a circus. “It’s daddy’s book. Well, well. That explains everything, doesn’t it? Genius father gives books to genius child.”
Alison grabbed her soda and stood up, turning to walk away. But before she could do more than take a step, Harry slid off the table and moved to block her way. “Hey, what’s the rush? Don’t you want daddy’s book back after all?”
Trapped, Alison fixed her eyes on Harry’s. Then she said, clearly, so that everyone around could hear, “Well, it won’t do you any good.”
“No?” Harry took a step closer to Alison and she took a counterstep, backward. “Because you think I’m stupid? Well, tell me something then, Ms. Genius. What’s with your retard twin brother?” He watched, satisfied, as her eyes flickered. “I’ll tell you what I figure. You’re freak twins. You got two brains, and he got none.”
Harry saw her shock. He watched, satisfied, as even her lips turned white. And for the merest second he had an odd idea – that what he’d said wasn’t new to her. That she’d thought of it herself.
Then she raised her cup and flung the remains of the soda in his face.