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corn. I want to bury my face in it and let him take me away.
“I’ve escaped the asylum,” I say. “Can I hang out here
until the white coats recapture me for dinner?”
He laughs. That crooked tooth makes me weak in the
knees.
Perry’s mom works at the hospital in Dover. She’s a
pediatric nurse. Her days are filled with sick children and
crying parents. Which is why she saved so hard for Perry’s
telescope.
“There’s got to be something better out there,” she said
when she gave it to him. “When you find it, will you take
me away?”
Mrs. Gould has the right idea.
Perry opens the door wide and I follow him inside.
“I’m watching Quentin Tarantino’s Star Wars again,” he
says. “You’ve seen it, right? He uses action figures and computer
animation. Totally dumb, but funny.”
I follow Perry into the den. The movie is paused on his
TV screen.
“Popcorn?” he asks, plopping down on the couch and
tossing me one of the three bags of microwave popcorn that
are puffed up on the couch next to him.
“Sure,” I say and rip open one of the bags. Buttery
steam drifts into my nostrils. It smells like Perry’s shirt. I
wonder, from now on will the smell of popcorn make me
feel in love? Will movie theaters now make me blush?
Perry props his bare feet on the coffee table and hits the
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