Machine Dreams

don’t seeeach other much now.” Mitch certainly wasn’t a member of the Jaycees. He still belonged to the Elks’, who kept a dim lunchroom down by the tracks. “Riley, you know I wouldn’t enter that contest.”
    He made the turn onto the Winfield road, easing past the Mobil station and picking up speed. “Boys win money for sports. Why shouldn’t girls win money for looking good?”
    “I don’t know, but I don’t want to. Think about standing on a stage in a bathing suit while Mr. Losch asks you what your goals are.”
    Riley smiled. “You could talk for a half hour about your goals, and you only need to come up with three minutes.”
    “How do you know anything about my goals?”
    “I know,” he said, entertained. He slowed as they neared Nedelson’s, checking out the parking lot for friends. The parking spaces were defined by metal posts fitted with intercoms and bright yellow menus fastened behind plastic. Riley parked on the far side of the lot and leaned out to press the intercom button. A warble of static came through the speaker.
    “Hello?” Riley yelled.
    “Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”
    “Two double burgers with tomato, one plain cheeseburger, one large fries, two vanilla shakes.” He leaned back and lit a cigarette. “What if Lee Ann was in the contest. Would you enter then?”
    Danner frowned. “No. Forget it, will you?”
    He smiled. His eyes were extremely blue.
    Food came quickly at the Parkette. Within five minutes, a girl brought the car tray, hooked it onto the half-open window, and collected money. Riley passed Danner her shake and cheeseburger. From across the lot they could hear someone’s loud radio. They shared the french fries and ate comfortably, without talking. Danner loved just sitting there with him; he felt so familiar, like family.
    The horseshoe circle between the rows of cars was constantly filled with slowly moving automobiles. Boys with girls simply wheeled into a spot, but the ones who were alone drove around and around, yelling to each other and whooping before turningonto the highway again. Danner watched them. In a year or so, Billy would have a car. He’d get his learner’s permit in the fall; he had a job with State Road this summer cutting brush, already saving money. Danner couldn’t imagine seeing him in his own car, like Riley. She remembered Kato then.
    “Riley, what is all this about Kato?”
    For a moment he didn’t answer. “Oh, hell. Lee Ann can’t keep her mouth shut. It’s a good thing I don’t tell her anything important.”
    “I call it important,” Danner said, “and telling people only spreads the story.”
    Riley regarded her, irritated. “I didn’t even tell the story.”
    Danner gazed out the windshield of the Mustang, the straw of her milkshake in her mouth. The frothy liquid was so cold and sweet it stung her teeth. She swallowed. “What is the story?”
    “There isn’t any.” He picked up his second foil-wrapped burger, pretending the subject was closed.
    “You might as well tell me.”
    He ate the sandwich as though considering. “A few months ago, a couple of guys went over to Kato’s house. She was home alone and they had a few beers and played around a little. Nothing really happened, nothing serious.” He paused. “It’s just that it was two guys.”
    Danner said nothing, waiting.
    “I guess she was tipsy. Must have been.” He crumpled the foil and put the paper and empty cups on the Parkette tray. “It was before Billy was going out with her. Besides, he can probably handle himself.” Riley sat looking at the steering wheel. “I’ll talk to him if you want me to.”
    “No, don’t say a word.” She wrapped her sandwich back up in the foil and handed it to him. “I don’t want this. Let’s go.”
    “Okay.” He moved closer, then kissed her. “You have to understand that not everyone is as virtuous as you.”
    “I’m not virtuous.”
    Riley grinned, trying to coax a smile from her. “You’re not? You mean it’s all an act?”
    She did smile. “What do you want? Am I supposed to act like I’m twenty-five when I’m sixteen?”
    “You’re not sixteen yet. And by the time you’re twenty-five, we’ll have three kids.” He took the tray off the window and propped it on the intercom box, then turned the ignition key of the Mustang. “Since Mitch is so nervous lately, I’m taking you home early. But first let’s skip the drive-in and visit his namesake.”
    Mitch Concrete was an ideal