The backyard was packed by eight o’clock, and David still saw no sign of Julia or Krystal. Even his lonely table had been intruded upon. Albert Sigorsky, a student in David’s English class, had picked up some girl from the batch of hopeful, doe-eyed freshmen and had her draped over his shoulders and on his lap just a few feet away. The two were kissing each other all over the neck and mouth and earlobes. They paid no attention to David, who sat there watching them in a combination of awe and disgust. The girl had moved down to Albert’s collarbone with her tongue, when Albert looked over and saw David staring.
“You watching us, you weirdo?”
David paused, allowing for the girl to stop what she was doing and give him a nasty look. The kind of look girls like her learn to give early.
“Yes, I am,” David replied coldly. The kissers got up and shuffled off. David looked around; the party was filled to capacity, but still people managed to segregate into private groups. Miraculously, as if the phenomenon was not confined to the physical parameters of T. Walter High, the party began to mimic the exact social dynamics of the high school. As if they were all inherently aware of their place in society, and gravitated not only to their social groups, but even managed to cluster off into designated spots within the backyard itself.
To David’s left was Darryl Knight’s group of football players. They hovered around Darryl and the keg like a pride of lions. Whenever someone outside wanted to get to Darryl or the keg, they were circled and searched, as if entering the back lobby of the school, an exclusive hangout where the popular kids roamed. In the far corner sat all the kids who usually lined the walls of the main lobby. They accepted one another in rejected camaraderie. Some of the drama students were there as well, standing near the piñata, but off to the side, similar to how they hung out near the elevators at school, laughing loudly. They weren’t with the piñata crowd, but they had picked a part of the backyard where they could be seen by everyone. The ROTCs and the blacks, true to their status in the school, were not invited.
David did not delude himself as to what his place was in the social scheme. He himself hadn’t yet made up his mind where he fit in, but his classmates seemed to have made the decision for him. He wondered what he was doing there, feeling like a bird that incessantly slaps its wings against the window of a house. Why do I even bother? he thought.
“Red!” a voice called out. It was Darryl, arms akimbo. He was heading toward him. David wasn’t sure what it was—the outstretched arms, the way he used his nickname as though it wasn’t a put-down, or the way he seemed to genuinely love everyone around him—it could have been all those at once, but something in that instant made David smile slightly.
Darryl gave him a light punch on the shoulder. In doing so, he noticed the knapsack. “School’s not for another two months almost, what’s with the fag bag?”
David pulled the strap further up his shoulder, to where it met with his neck. “My sketchbook and stuff,” he said.
“My sketchbook and stuff,” Darryl mocked. “You homo. What are you going to draw?”
“I also got a change of clothes. I might crash at Matt’s.”
“A go-bag,” Darryl said. “Always good to have.”
“You just said it was a fag bag.”
“Well . . .” Darryl didn’t finish his thought. The two held their silence like a hand of cards. David shifted in his seat, feeling as though Darryl was measuring him. Weighing him, like the choices at the lunch counter.
“You know, I used to keep a go-bag of clothes like that all the time,” Darryl said finally as he picked up an empty beer bottle and pulled at the corner of the label. David watched him in silence. Darryl hooked his thumb toward his house. “Parents fighting,” he added. “Sometimes it’s better to stay away.”
“Where did you go all those times?” David asked.
Darryl shrugged. Looked across the yard at two sophomores racing to the bottom of their beers. “My aunt’s. The neighbors’. Wherever.”
“I hear you,” David said, as he clutched tight on the strap of his knapsack. He knew, but he didn’t know. His parents didn’t fight the way kids gossiped about how Darryl’s parents had fought. There were no cops, no shouts of “Whore!” from the front windows. No midnight tussles in the driveway over the car keys. David’s parents would go silent on each other. Ask David to pass messages between them. But Darryl was right: sometimes it was better to stay away. Silence, coldness, could be as loud as a fist through a wall.
“Anyway, Red, I just mean sometimes when you get away from these people you have some fun for a while, but it never really goes away unless you make it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“People talk. People around here have nothing better to do sometimes, and I know what they say, but I figured out how to fit in. You will too, someday.”
David kept silent for a moment and took a pull off his beer. “Did you know that humans are the only animals that will eat with an enemy?”
“I did not,” Darryl answered. “But it makes sense.”
“How does that make any sense at all?”
“Sometimes all it takes is for you to make them laugh,” Darryl said. “And serve them some beer.” He wiggled the empty bottle that he had dangling from his index finger.
David looked around at all the guests. Laughing, shouting, drinking Darryl’s beer, while Darryl moved the empty bottle in slow circles through the air.
“I see your girl has arrived,” Darryl said, as he began to drift back in the direction from which he’d come.
A wash of guilt pressed David to say something. “Thanks for inviting me here, Darryl,” he blurted out.
Darryl stopped. A slight, sad grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t be a homo about it.”
David saw Krystal Richards step through the sliding glass doors, into the backyard. Julia was right behind her.
Julia noticed David as Darryl crossed the yard. She waved to him with a smile and stepped down off the porch. Krystal disappeared into a crowd of boys all howling for her, forming a circle around her.
“All by your lonesome?” Julia asked. “You’re a nut job, you know that? You nearly gave me a heart attack last night.”
“Love makes me do crazy things,” David said. He was happy. Bursting with hope. She’d walked over to him right away. He’d forgotten about her phone call to Darryl. Julia sat down at the small table across from him and held his left hand in her small, thin ones.
Moments later, Darryl and a couple of friends erupted with shouts and open arms. Standing in the doorway was twenty-year-old Bob Cassidy. A star running back for the Patriots, he’d single-handedly defeated Saybrook with a stunning three hundred–yard, five-touchdown afternoon, and at homecoming, no less. Saybrook High School, which spent so many years leisurely rolling over T. Walter with little effort, had been vanquished for the first time in Turnbull’s history. And it was all because of Bob Cassidy, Felix’s older brother. The town had saluted him for months on end.
Bob stepped down off the small porch into the pats of all his former teammates. Darryl and the rest of them had been freshmen when Bob starred in that remarkable game. Some players, like Darryl, had been riding the bench, secretly hoping someone would sprain his ankle so they could get a shot. Other players, now on the starting squad, had still been languishing as starters on the junior varsity team, where the only fans in the stands were their parents. But they all remembered and revered Bob. He was open with them. Helped them become better players. He took time with them, and even joined in fights between the athletes and the burnouts.
Bob spoke to one player while he was handed a beer by another. He hadn’t been back to the school since the year after he graduated, when he performed the coin toss at T. Walter’s homecoming game. He was back in Turnbull, home for the summer, after his second year at Rutgers University, where he’d earned a free ride by playing for the Scarlet Knights. With one swift motion, Bob cracked open the beer and started chu
gging. He finished it in mere seconds and reached for another.
David and Julia watched him from their little table. In the far distance, a few kids had started to take some shots at the piñata. Bob threw his head back and laughed at something and then, smiling, he turned to the small table and locked eyes with Julia. David shifted in his seat as Bob’s face turned serious and he narrowed his sharp green eyes at her. David’s own eyes burned into Bob’s, and as if the guy sensed the suspicion, he looked at David. They stared at each other for a while, before Bob turned to one of his younger worshippers who happened to be in David’s grade, and tapped him on the shoulder. Now they were both looking at the table, and Julia tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Who’s that clown?” David asked Julia.
“I don’t know. One of Darryl’s friends,” she replied.
“Stay away from him.” David was too fixed on Bob to notice Julia shake her head and roll her eyes.
Bob strode over to them as he cracked another beer, his third. His friend was walking ahead of him, leading the way and waving Bob along. David stared at them all the way up until they hovered over their table. The friend spoke first.
“Julia, this is Bob Cassidy, the Bob Cassidy. The guy who beat Saybrook all by himself.”
Bob nudged him on the arm. “Knock it off, she doesn’t care about that,” he said, smiling.
“What does she care about, if you know her so well?” David asked.
His classmate frowned. Bob just stared at David, sizing him up. He looked very relaxed. His face was a stone. David’s classmate cleared his throat and spoke blandly.
“This is Red,” he told Bob. Bob’s eyes never left David’s. He held out his hand to shake it.
“Odd name,” Bob said.
“David,” he corrected. Glancing over at Julia, he felt compelled to shake Bob’s hand.
“Why do they call you Red?” asked Bob.
“This is Julia Dawson,” the classmate interrupted, as David and Bob broke their handshake.
David kept his eyes on Bob, but Bob turned all his attention to Julia. He took her hand delicately, drank a sip of beer, and told her that they would have to talk before the night was over. Then he walked away.
David followed Bob’s back as he disappeared into a crowd of kids. Bob took the piñata stick away from a quiet drama student. Darryl spun Bob in six circles and released him, facing the wrong way. Bob took a large forward swing with the stick, and nearly drove it into a girl’s face. The crowd scattered in a matter of seconds. Darryl broke into peals of laughter. David watched from his seat and huffed through his nose.
“What a jackass,” he said.
“I want to go watch,” Julia said, leaping up from her chair.
David simply stared at her. He was getting that feeling. But his heart jumped a beat when she reached out her hand, clasped his, and pulled him up to his feet. He abandoned his knapsack on the bench and allowed Julia to drag him over to the game. He reached toward a stack of beers standing on a table and cracked one open. He quickly chugged it down, then reached for another.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FELIX, DALLAS, AND JAMES CROWDED TOGETHER in the basement well into the late evening, entertaining each other with stories and games. Dallas rode his bicycle in circles around the lally columns, trying to pick up speed. Felix and James seemed to be in better spirits after the rain washed out Dallas’s plan to go back for the wood. Only occasionally—whenever he twisted or contorted his body in a strange way—would the bruise on James’s neck smart. Dallas would catch a glimpse of James wincing and shake his head in disgust, as if the two of them shared the same anatomy and the pain ran through Dallas’s body as well.
“Dallas, do you believe in those Ouija boards?” asked Felix, as Dallas whizzed by on his bicycle.
“You mean that game where ghosts come down and spell things out?” he called back. “My dad says they’re real, but I don’t think so.”
“I heard they can tell the future. Lottery numbers . . . stuff like that,” said James.
“Please . . . then everybody would be winning the lottery,” answered Dallas as he passed by again, faster.
“Not if you don’t do it right,” Felix defended. “I think it’s real sometimes. We should get one.”
Dallas shook his head as he circled. James and Felix were getting dizzy watching him.
“My dad would kill me if he caught me. He says demons get attracted to that stuff, and they’ll come down and possess you.”
James and Felix looked at each other for a moment before starting to giggle. Dallas stopped his bicycling, looking hurt. He stepped off and dropped his bike.
“Shut up! It’s what my dad says, jerks!” He bounded toward them and lightly kicked Felix in the back of his leg as he rolled away. James jumped up to his feet and jogged away laughing.
“Dallas is afraid of a piece of wood,” announced Felix.
Dallas frowned and looked over at James as if he’d understand. “I said my dad believes all that stuff. I don’t,” he cried. “You want to play with a Ouija board? I’ll play with one.”
“Where do we get one?” asked James.
Dallas shrugged.
“We can make one,” suggested Felix. “All we need is a flat board and a black marker.”
They looked around the basement. Dallas set his sights on a piece of plywood standing up against the far corner. He dragged the board over and let it fall with a loud slap onto the concrete where the two had been sitting only minutes before. They all stood around it, as if observing a dead animal. Felix asked Dallas to fetch him a marker. Dallas bounded up the stairs as Felix sat down Indian-style in front of the board.
James followed suit. “Isn’t there a bunch of words on the board?” he asked.
“We have to write the alphabet across the top, and then the words yes, no, and maybe,” Felix replied.
Dallas returned with a thick Pilot marker. He held it out to Felix. “I have to put this back in my dad’s room as soon as we’re done with it.”
Felix nodded and took the marker from him. He began to pen the alphabet across the top in the thick black ink. Then he wrote the necessary words underneath, and leaned back, turning his head sideways to view his creation. He capped the marker, and looked up at the boys.
“Now we need a block of wood, or a triangle piece of metal or something,” Felix said. Dallas and James got up and searched around.
“What about a hockey puck?” suggested James, holding up a dusty black puck that had been buried under a pile of sports equipment.
“That’ll work,” Felix responded.
The boys returned and sat down again. Felix took the puck from James and placed it on the board; he uncapped the marker and traced the shape of the puck onto the board, so they’d always know where to place the pointer. He turned the board so they could all see it, and scooted closer to his friends. “Now we put our hands on the puck, and ask the board some questions.”
The three boys kept silent for a moment until Felix broke in with a question.
“Will James’s bruise ever heal?” he asked the board, leaning his face down closer to it.
All three watched the board. After a moment, James looked at Dallas. Dallas looked at Felix. They were beginning to feel foolish. Suddenly, the puck began to move slowly across the board. It slid silently over to the word NO.
Dallas frowned. “Oh, come on, Felix was moving the thing.”
“Was not!” said Felix.
“I felt you moving it, and besides, it’s wrong anyway, his bruise’ll be gone in a couple days. You’re an idiot, Felix.”
“I swear I didn’t move it.”
Dallas smirked and shook his head, looking down at the board. “Let’s ask the board. Board, did Felix move the puck?” There was a long pause. Slowly, the puck slid over to the word YES.
“Now you’re moving it, Dallas,” Felix accused.
“No I’m not,” Dallas replied sarcastically.
“Thes
e are dumb questions anyway, let’s ask some good ones,” said Felix.
James leaned in close and spoke to the board: “Will James, Felix, and Dallas be friends forever?”
All three kept quiet. The puck would not move. Dallas looked at Felix, as if he was waiting for him to cheat again. They stared down at their fingertips, joined across the top. They kept staring. They could hear the gutters dripping outside. Suddenly, the puck slid over to the word NO.
“Dallas, you moved it!” shouted James.
Dallas threw his hands in the air. “I swear I didn’t move it, dude, I swear.” His face betrayed him as he broke into a smile, and started to laugh.
“You’re an idiot, Dallas,” snapped Felix. “It’s not going to work if you keep moving it.”
Dallas still held his hands up. “Dude, I didn’t move it, I swear.” He laughed again, glancing from side to side at his friends.
“Nobody move it this time, I want to see if it works,” said James.
Dallas was still enjoying his joke, when his eyes happened to fall on the marker lying next to Felix’s knee. “Oh no, I got to put the marker back!” he yelped. He jumped to his feet and bounded up the stairs.
“If Dallas leaves it alone, it might work next time,” said Felix.
“What do we ask it next?”
Felix searched his mind for a bit. “Let’s ask what we’re getting for Christmas this year!” Their faces lit up as James put his hands on the puck.
“Let’s ask it now,” James said.
Felix shook his head. “We got to wait for Dallas to get back, I don’t think the board’ll work unless everybody who helped make it have their hands on the pointer.”
The two racked their brains to come up with more questions while they waited. Felix always wanted to know if he would be rich. James wanted to know if he would get married. They both wondered if they were ever going to get hit with a nuclear bomb. Felix wanted to ask if they would all stay friends and live next door to each other.
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