The Difference Between You and Me(53)

“Yeah, like, Mr. Murray’s dad started it in like the thirties. And I’ve been working here since eighth grade, both my brothers worked here, and Mr. Murray’s such an awesome guy, he gave both my brothers money at their graduations, like, for college, and it turns out he’s, like, totally against StarMart coming in. He told us this story about his friend over in Windsor who had, like, a family-owned hardware store just like this and a StarMart moved in, like, twenty miles away, not even next door or anything, but still he went under in less than six months. It happened last year. Mr. Murray was all like, ‘Sixty years to build a business and six months to kill it dead.’”

Mike kneads the bill of his baseball cap with his left hand, pops the cap up off his close-cut curls, then sets it back down again. In the moment when his hair is revealed, Jesse feels a bright comet of envy streak through her chest; Mike’s haircut is so perfect, so clipped and polished and clean. He has such an effortlessly cool boy-head. Jesse feels a throb of shame about her own shaggy bangs, then focuses again.

“Yeah,” she says. “That’s what StarMart does.”

“Yeah so, Mr. Murray’s been more and more worried about it lately and we’ve all been saying to him, like, ‘Oh, Mr. Murray, your customers are loyal, they won’t leave you no matter what.’ But I don’t know, you know? I looked at that website it said about on your flyer and I just, it seems like if StarMart comes in there’s not much you can do, you know? If you’re a small business like this one. And I would feel so bad if that happened here, to Mr. Murray. I just… I don’t… we can’t…”

Mike trails off, either shy or embarrassed or overwhelmed, Jesse can’t tell.

“We can’t let that happen to him?” Jesse supplies, and Mike’s head bobs up and down vigorously.

“Right. Right. So, like, what’s your plan? For defeating StarMart?”

“Oh. Um, I guess it’s not really possible to actually defeat StarMart? Since they’re like one of the largest corporations in the world?”

“Oh.” Mike looks crestfallen. “Well, but what about just this one StarMart, just this one that might come in near us? Can we defeat that?”

When Jesse looks at Mike, she takes in the whole of him, the whole guy who has his whole body around Emily Miller whenever he wants to. For a second, the familiar feeling of being about to let something out—about to blow her cover—comes over Jesse. It’s almost like having a well-known flavor of gum in her mouth. She holds the secret on her tongue, feeling its weight, tasting its comforting bittersweetness, for long enough that Mike McDade shifts uneasily.

“No?” he says. “You think it’s, like, not possible?”

The simplest, most effective thing would be to say, Look, talk to your girlfriend. She’s working for them, don’t you know that? Find out from her what’s going on. Tell her to stop sleeping with the enemy.

Then Jesse thinks, Who’s the enemy?

Jesse swallows all the unsaid things. Takes a breath.

“I guess the thing we’re working on,” she says, “was, like, trying to convince student council that we need to divest from StarMart. Like, we shouldn’t take their money and use it for school functions.” Mike has assumed a doglike listening posture, leaning in with his ear turned slightly in Jesse’s direction to catch her words. He nods eagerly. “So, like, if you know anyone on student council you could start there. Tell them you don’t want StarMart in our school. That’s one thing you can do. If you know someone.”

Mike swallows uncomfortably. “I do, actually,” he says, “but it’s kind of like, really complicated? I can’t actually be public about this? Like, I really want to help, but I can’t help in school. I can’t be seen helping.”

“I get it,” Jesse says. In her mind she thinks, Great. Now even her boyfriend is telling me he can’t be seen with me in public.

“No, it’s really complicated,” Mike continues, “I can’t really explain it because it’s, like, too complicated to even explain.”

“I get it,” Jesse repeats. “You have a conflict of interest.”

“What?” Mike’s face clouds over with incomprehension. Then resolves. “Yes. Yes. I have a conflict of interest. It’s a really complicated conflict of interest. But is there still, like, a way for me to pitch in… in, like, secret?”

“Maybe.”

“Like maybe I could make some more flyers for you?”

“I don’t think we need any more flyers.”