Black Friday. Alex Kava

obsessed. Which was the reason they were here at the mall on the day after Thanksgiving. His latest obsession involved the red backpack at his feet.

      “Chad and Tyler are already here.”

      He waved at them across the food court but they even didn’t look his way. Typical, but Rebecca didn’t point out to Dixon that the two jocks still treated him like an elementary school tag-along. The four of them had gone to school together up until Rebecca’s mom dragged her away to Connecticut. Dixon chose West Haven for college partly to be with Rebecca but as soon as he came home to Minnesota, Chad and Tyler could draw him into their escapades with a simple phone call.

      Rebecca noticed they both carried red backpacks identical to Dixon’s. What did he get himself into this time? She pulled off her coat and let it hang over the back of her chair. She usually stayed away from Dixon’s adventures. She wiped at her bangs that were pasted to her forehead and stretched her back expecting it to ache from the tattooed man’s elbow.

      “We agreed to start on the third floor and work our way down.”

      “What exactly is it you guys are doing?” Patrick asked.

      Rebecca wanted to kick him under the table. Dixon took on causes like they were T-shirts with slogans that he changed every other week. Most likely this was Chad and Tyler’s idea. Dixon read Vince Flynn novels and superhero comic books—Batman was currently his favorite. He did a cool imitation of Homer Simpson and knew all the characters from Lord of the Rings. Not only could he find Venus, and sometimes Mars, in the night sky, he could name all three stars in Orion’s Belt. When he told Rebecca he had decided to major in cyber-crime, she couldn’t imagine him stepping out of his fantasy world long enough to deal with real life criminals. He was a smart, quirky guy and Rebecca hoped he’d realize soon that he didn’t need Chad and Tyler.

      “Do you realize that eighty percent of toys sold in the U.S.A. are made in China?” Dixon told Patrick as he stuffed another piece of cinnamon roll into his mouth. “And that’s just toys. Don’t even get me started about other products. Like those cute little patriotic flag pins everyone puts on their lapels…made in China.” He drew out the phrase like it was all the proof he needed to substantiate his argument. Never mind that it sounded like he had memorized it from some pamphlet.

      Patrick glanced at Rebecca as he sipped his coffee. She winced, wanting to tell him it was too late.

      “Over a half million production jobs were outsourced to other countries last year,” Dixon continued. “Just to make everyday products that we can’t live without.”

      “Like your new iPhone,” Rebecca said pointing to the gadget in Dixon’s shirt pocket, the earbuds a constant fixture dangling around his neck. “Made in China but you can’t live without it.”

      “These are different.” He rolled his eyes for Patrick as if saying she didn’t know what she was talking about. “Besides, this was a gift, a reward, in exchange for lugging around this backpack all day.”

      “Ahh,” Rebecca said and didn’t have to add that she knew there had to be a catch.

      “And I can live without it, Miss Smartypants,” he added.

      “Really?” Rebecca raised an eyebrow to challenge him.

      “Of course.”

      She put out her hand. “Then loan it to me for the day. You owe me for losing my cell phone.”

      “I didn’t lose it. I just haven’t remembered where I placed it.”

      But already Dixon’s smile disappeared as if he was trying to contemplate life without immediate access and communication to the world. Just when she thought he couldn’t bear to relinquish it, he pulled the cord from around his neck and slid the cord and the iPhone across the table to her. The smile reappeared.

      “Don’t break it. I just got it.”

      “What about the backpack?” Patrick asked.

      Both Rebecca and Dixon looked at him as though they completely forgot what they had been talking about. Patrick pointed to the pack at Dixon’s feet.

      “What’s the deal with the backpack?” he asked again.

      “That, my friend, contains the secret weapon.” Dixon was back to his infomercial. “Inside is an ingenious contraption that will emit a wireless signal. Completely harmless,” he waved his hand, “but enough interference to mess up a few computer systems. Wake up a few of these retailers. Last time I was home Chad and Tyler took me to a rally with this cool professor at UMN, drives a Harley, one of the big ones.”

      Rebecca couldn’t help but smile. Dixon wouldn’t know a Harley from a Yamaha, but she didn’t say anything.

      “This is a guy who’s been in the trenches, knows what he’s talking about. You know, he’s been to the Middle East, Afghanistan, Russia, China. Professor Ryan says that until we hit people in the almighty pocketbook nobody’s gonna care that we outsource hundreds of thousands of jobs every year or that the southern invasion is stealing twice that many jobs right here, right out from under us.”

      “Southern invasion?” It was Rebecca’s turn to roll her eyes at Dixon. She’d lived through many of his obsessions and humored him by listening to all of his rants, but once in a while she had to let him know she couldn’t take him seriously. Next week Dixon would probably move on to saving beached whales.

      “So why the padlock?” Patrick asked, still interested.

      Dixon shrugged like it didn’t matter, that the padlock was a minor point and besides, he was finished with his spiel. Rebecca recognized the look. He was ready and impatient, looking over his shoulder, concerned with finding Chad and Tyler. That’s when she knew this idea was probably theirs. Not Dixon’s. But he’d go along, wanting to be friends with the cool guys, the high school jocks he grew up following around. They were always getting Dixon in trouble and she didn’t understand why he kept going back for more. Maybe another semester away at college, away from them, would help.

      One thing about Dixon, he was there for his friends. Rebecca could account for that. In the early days of her mom and dad’s divorce Dixon was always there for her, just a phone call away, telling her it had absolutely nothing to do with her, reassuring her, making her laugh when it was the last thing she thought she’d ever do again.

      Dixon’s iPhone started playing the theme song from Batman and she slid it back over.

      “It hasn’t even been five minutes—” she started.

      “Hey, I can’t help it, I’m a popular guy.”

      But within seconds of answering Dixon’s face went from cocky and confident to panic.

      “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

      “What’s wrong?” Rebecca sat forward. The mall noise had amplified. Somewhere behind them a PA system was announcing Santa’s arrival.

      “That was my granddad.” Dixon’s face had gone white. “They just took Nanna to the hospital. She may have had a heart attack.”

      “Oh my God, Dixon.”

      “You want us to go with you?” Patrick was already pulling on his jacket.

      “Yeah, I guess,” Dixon said, trying to stand but stumbling over the backpack at his feet. “Oh crap.” He pivoted around trying to look beyond the crowd. “I promised Chad and Tyler.” He picked up the backpack with a pained look and dropped it on the table as if the weight of it was suddenly too much.

      “Don’t worry about it,” Rebecca said, grabbing the pack, surprised at how heavy it was but sliding it up over her shoulder as if it were no problem. “I just need to walk around with it, right?”

      “I can’t ask you to do that.”

      “You’re not asking. I’m offering. Now go.”

      “How will you