2.b.vi
“Jonesy.”
“Huh,” Mr.
Jones said, his memory fading. The
sickly gloom of the craft superstore fluorescents seeped back into his field of
vision; antiseptic and sterile.
“Found
him. He’s in the bathroom.”
Mr. Jones’s
shoulder dropped and his head lulled.
When he spoke, his face made no attempt to hide the sour expression.
“Really?”
“Yeah. So we gonna go get him or what?”
“In the
bathroom? No thanks. I’ll wait until he comes out.”
“I don’t think
he’s coming out for a while.”
“A further
indicator that I do not want to go in there.”
Tanya shook
her head and put her hands on her hips. “Are
you seven? He’s not in there shedding a
brown pound, he’s taking measurements.”
Mr. Jones
cocked his head to the side and flared his eyes. “Like that’s better.”
“Oh. I see.
We’re in junior high now. I’m the one that gets to make the juvenile
comments, remember? He’s in there
measuring stuff as part of his douchey cost cutting initiative. So grow up and let’s go get him.”
Mr. Jones
sighed and they marched toward the restrooms.
