Send

by Patty Blount

  “Because I’m here.”

  Brandon’s eyes whipped over to mine. “But if you have something better to do—”

  “Uh-uh. Foul.” I waved my hands. “Not falling for that again. I’ll see Julie another time. Right now, I’m watching movies with a friend.”

  Brandon managed a slightly bigger smile.

  Now we were cool.

  ————

  The rest of the break passed way too fast. It finally snowed, a dump of like a foot of powder I shoveled for hours. I couldn’t run on the beach in that, so I stayed close to home and jogged in the tracks cut by SUVs until the plows came through.

  Julie had found a job at a chain restaurant, so my evenings were free. Brandon and I decided to hang out at a bowling alley one night when Julie was at work.

  We haven’t been bowling since Jake McGuire’s tenth birthday. Remember? They put the bumpers out.

  Right. They put the bumpers out for me because I’d never gone bowling before and sucked. I two-handed the ball, rolling it between my legs like a toddler. The guys all laughed and harassed me about it, but I didn’t care. There was cake. And pizza. And friends.

  “Dan, you’re up.”

  I grabbed the sixteen-pound ball and hurled it down the alley the way Brandon did—with one hand curled around the ball like I was carrying a baby.

  A baby you hurled down an oiled wood alley?

  Okay. Bad metaphor. Sue me.

  I watched the ball skid down the alley. I knocked down one pin.

  Kenny laughed his ass off. I let him.

  We’d already bowled two games. Brandon got a 168 and a 170. I bowled a 30. Twice. On the third game, he took pity on me and joined me on the approach.

  “Jesus, dude, unclench. It’s a game. It’s supposed to be fun.” Brandon took the ball from me, stood next to me, and demonstrated proper technique. “Hold the ball like this. Walk to the foul line as you’re getting ready to let it go, then let it go gently.”

  “So, no bounce?”

  Brandon laughed. “No bounce. You’re not pitching a softball game.”

  “Okay.”

  I held the ball, approached the line, and let it go. It landed smoothly on the polished lane and stayed straight and level until the last second. Then it veered into the gutter.

  “Try it again. This time, don’t forget to follow through.”

  “Huh?” What the hell did that mean?

  “Here. Like this.” Brandon pretended to release a ball and then brought his hand up straight, aiming with his thumb.

  I tried it his way, and this time, I got half the pins. “Yes!” We high-fived and then spun around at the sound of raucous laughter.

  Jeff and some friends stood behind our lane.

  Kenny cursed in my mind. Brandon’s face went stony.

  “Oh, come on, Brandon. Don’t let us interrupt your hot date,” Jeff shouted. One of his friends made rude kissing sounds.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” I said.

  With his jaw tight, he shook his head. “We were here first.” He turned to Jeff. “Why are you in a bowling alley?”

  Oh, that sounded like a dis.

  Jeff’s grin froze, and he took a few steps closer. “To bowl, asshole.”

  Brandon scoffed. “Let me know how that goes for you. I’ll be here for about six more frames if you need lessons.”

  Jeff’s sneer disappeared, and he strode off. “Let’s go.” The entourage headed to a lane at the end of the alley.

  I let out a low whistle. “Impressive handling.”

  Brandon’s eyes stayed pinned to Jeff’s back. “He was never as good as I am at bowling.”

  “You guys used to bowl a lot?”

  “Yeah. Used to. You done?”

  Hell yeah. I sat on the U-shaped bench, tugged off my tricolored rentals while Brandon packed up his way-cooler shoes and ball into his bag.

  Outside in the blustery January night, I aimed the remote at my car and unlocked the doors. The pounding of feet on the wet pavement just as Kenny shouted a warning had us spinning around.

  Jeff shoved Brandon before I could move. The bowling ball bag fell on its side with a heavy thud. I grabbed Jeff in a lock, let him dangle a bit.

  “We don’t want any trouble, Dean. Walk away while you can.”

  “Fuck you,” he ground out.

  Brandon ignored us both, unzipped the bag, and examined the ball. “Damn it, Jeff. Goddamn it.”

  I tightened my hold and glanced down at the ball in Brandon’s hands. There was a deep crack in the finish entirely visible even in the streetlight that cast dark shadows over the parking lot. I didn’t know much about bowling, but I figured the ball was trash now.

  Heads up, man. He’s really pissed.

  Crap.

  “Gonna cry now?” Jeff jeered, breaking free of my hold.

  “You son of a bitch!” Brandon shouted in Jeff’s face. I stepped between them before things got physical.

  “Back off, Dean. Now.”

  Jeff swung his gaze from Brandon to me and back again. He grinned broadly, wiggled his fingers in a mockery of a wave, and jogged back into the alley. I bent down to help Brandon set his bag right, but he knocked my hands away, shoved the bag into the car, and slammed the tailgate. He stalked around the car and settled into the passenger seat, his face thunderous.

  I got behind the wheel, started the car, and drove home, silent while Brandon seethed. When I pulled into his driveway, he opened the door without a word. Before I could unlock the tailgate, he tugged on the handle hard enough to rock the car. With a loud curse, he stalked to his front door without a backward glance at me.

  He left the bowling ball behind.

  Hearts, Flowers, and Bad Ideas

  January blurred into February. More snow covered Long Island. Things with Julie and me were good.

  I think.

  We had an understanding, I guess. We saw each other after school when she wasn’t working, and after work, she let me pick her up on nights she was certain her father wasn’t in town. In the car, we’d talk about books and school and life. But the future—life after high school—was somehow off-limits. I knew only that Julie planned to go to one of the state schools. I was hoping for USC. Ever since my dad submitted all the paperwork to get my record cleaned up, I was starting to think I had a good shot at admittance. Dad was all for it. Mom, on the other hand, not so much.

  When are you gonna tell Julie, dude?

  Soon, Kenny.

  I had plans for a special Valentine’s Day date, when I intended to not only tell Julie—gulp—everything but also talk about the future.

  Our future.

  Monday night, I brought her flowers. That was my mom’s idea. I took her to this Italian restaurant close to my house, all decorated with red and pink balloons floating over heart-shaped candles on every table. She wore red glasses to suit the holiday and a black dress that totally killed my ability to speak for like an hour. When the server placed a covered basket of hot buttery bread on the table, my stomach let out a loud rumble, and we laughed.

  “You look amazing,” I finally blurted out.

  “Thanks. You look good too.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I wore a tie.

  Dork.

  Also Mom’s idea.

  Julie sipped her soda and nibbled at the antipasto. I cleared my throat. “Julie.” My voice cracked. Jeez, it hadn’t done that since I was twelve.

  Kenny nearly lost consciousness from laughing.

  I tried again. “Julie, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  Our server arrived with our entrees. I wiped sweaty palms on my napkin.

  “That looks good.” She nodded at my plate. I cut
off a portion of chicken parmigiana and forked it on top of her fra diavolo.

  We ate in silence. The food was great. Not as good as Mom’s but really good. I waited until she was done, my stomach pitching like a carnival ride.

  Oh my God, I’m getting old here.

  “Julie,” I tried a third time. “What do you want to do…you know, after graduation and stuff.”

  She stiffened and then put down her fork with a little frown that made the line in her forehead wink at me. “I don’t know. But after meeting you, I think I could be a counselor or something.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you.” She paused to sip her soda. “Since I met you, I wonder how many people are like…disturbed, I guess. You know. Like Brandon. Or like my brother. Or my—”

  She stopped abruptly when I sucked in a sharp breath. I was doing as much as I could to make sure Brandon wasn’t that disturbed.

  “I thought about you today.”

  My whole body got warm when I heard those words.

  “This girl dropped her books all over the main hallway. Everyone was laughing. I figured you’d be on your knees picking everything up. So I helped her. And she was really grateful. I mean, all these people are laughing, and I was just one person helping. She didn’t seem to mind them because of me.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know, right? It got me thinking…we should all be looking for ways to help instead of laughing. Counselor.” She flushed and looked at her plate. “I’ll probably suck at it.” She picked up her fork, speared a piece of chicken.

  I grinned, shook my head. “No way. You’ll be great.”

  “What about you? What do you want to do?”

  “I’m hoping to go to USC.”

  Her fork froze in mid-flight. “California?”

  I nodded. “Come with me, Julie.”

  Her eyes went wide. “I…I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. There are loans, grants, and scholarships. We can get an apartment together. I know you applied to state schools, but it’s not too late.”

  She put down her fork, stared at me. “Dan, are you asking me to live with you?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I am. I love you, and I don’t want us to end at graduation.”

  “Why California? Why didn’t you apply to any state schools?”

  Kenny leaned forward. This was it.

  I stared at the heart-shaped candle for a moment. “I want distance, Julie. I want to put miles between my parents and me so I don’t have to worry about them.”

  “Are you ever gonna tell me why?”

  I was trying, damn it.

  “USC has a law program. I want to help make sure kids like me get punishments that fit their crimes.” I gulped my soda, hoping for courage. I thought of Dr. P. and what she’d said about the judge using me to send a message.

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  “Well, some people think maybe the judge could have cut me a break since I was thirteen and never in trouble before.”

  Julie hung on every word, the food in front of her forgotten. “He didn’t?”

  I swiped my napkin over my mouth, swilled more soda. “They were able to twist some other law to fit my crime. To prove it. And punish me for that.”

  “But you don’t think you deserved it.”

  Her mouth went tight, and she wouldn’t look at me. Damn it, I knew it. I knew this would happen.

  “No, I did deserve it. Just maybe not so…extreme. I don’t know. What I did was, well, it was bad, Julie. There’s no way to shine that up.”

  She digested that for a moment. “What about me? Aren’t you gonna worry about me after I know the truth?”

  My mouth fell open. Every minute of every day, I worried only about Julie’s reaction to what I did. But it never occurred to me that telling her would put her in the same situation as my family. Crap.

  “Dan, relax before you break your glass.” Julie’s hand stroked mine, clutched tightly around my soda glass. I let go of the glass so I could hold her hand.

  “You’re right, Julie. I’m sorry. Let’s just forget the whole thing.” I shoved a hand in my pocket and removed a small box. “Here. This is for you.”

  Kenny cursed. That went well.

  Julie took the box but didn’t open it. “No, no. I don’t want to forget it. I like that you asked me, Dan. I’m glad you like me enough to—”

  “Julie, I love you.”

  “I love you too. And I promise you whatever you did, it won’t change that.”

  Come on, bro. She just opened the door.

  Kenny was right. I gulped hard. “What if I…killed somebody,” I whispered, unable to look at her.

  Her hands stilled on the box. “Did you?”

  I nodded once, swiped a hand over my mouth, hoping that dinner wouldn’t make an encore appearance.

  “No, you’re not a murderer. Even if that’s what they say you did, I don’t believe it. I know you.”

  No, you really don’t.

  Shut up, man.

  “Come on, Dan, would you hate me if you found out I did something, you know, bad?”

  “No,” I said with certainty. “I couldn’t.”

  “You did,” she reminded me.

  I waved that off. “I didn’t know you then. I do now, and I couldn’t hate you. No matter what.”

  She stared at me, unconvinced, her eyes almost ink blue in the dim light. Her mouth opened, but whatever she wanted to say stayed locked inside. Instead, she unwrapped the box, lifted the lid, and smiled. “This is beautiful. Thank you.” She held up the pendant, fastened it around her neck before I could do it for her.

  Heh. Gold heart on Valentine’s Day. Aren’t you original?

  I bit my tongue.

  “Dan, you okay?”

  “Peachy. You want some dessert?”

  Julie opened her mouth to answer me just as my cell buzzed.

  “Dan, it’s Brandon. I need help, man.”

  The tremble in his voice had me on my feet, tossing cash on the table before he finished his first sentence. Julie frowned, the line on her forehead vivid, but she stood and grabbed her coat without complaint.

  “On my way.”

  Kenny slammed the door to his room, grumbling about timing.

  ————

  At a local Friendly’s restaurant, Julie and I found Brandon alone in a booth. I slid in next to him, Julie across, while a bunch of girls giggled at another table. “Hey, man, sorry we’re so late,” I said loud enough for the girls to hear.

  The giggles stopped.

  Under my breath, I added, “They set you up?”

  “It was probably Jeff.” Brandon shrugged. “Anyway. Um. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” I grabbed a menu. “You guys want some ice cream?” I took note of Brandon’s flushed face and murderous eyes. “Or not.”

  But he shook his head. “If we all get up and leave, they’ll know.”

  “So what happened, Brandon?”

  “I got a text message telling me to meet some girl here.”

  My eyebrow lifted. “Who?”

  His eyes met mine and then quickly lowered. “Doesn’t matter. I should have known it was a scam.”

  A server came by, and we each ordered a sundae. She left some water glasses on our table and drifted over to the girls’ table.

  “How long were you stuck here?”

  “Like twenty or thirty minutes.” He played with the napkin-wrapped flatware. “I didn’t want to mess up your dinner.”

  “You didn’t. We were paying the check when you called,” Julie assured him.

  The sundaes arrived, and we dug in. Except for Brandon. He just sort of played with it, chopping and dragging his sp
oon through the layers of ice cream and toppings without actually eating any.

  I nudged him. “What’s up, man?”

  He glanced at me for a second and then back at the bottom of his bowl. “Ever wish you could kill somebody and, like, get away with it?”

  I jerked and gripped the table just for something to hold on to. What the—

  “Forget it. I didn’t mean that. Just sayin’.”

  “I used to do that all the time,” Julie admitted, and my mouth fell open. “I used to plot out elaborate schemes to nail my dad.” She said it like she’d just commented on the weather. “Who do you want to kill?”

  Brandon leaned forward. “Everybody. Except you guys. You’re cool.”

  Julie rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

  “Seriously. I have no problems with you.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Julie retorted. “You do realize you can’t actually kill them, right, Brandon? Or I’d have to go to your mother. To help, I mean.”

  She’s a genius. Kenny smiled proudly while Brandon glared.

  I had to agree.

  Brandon squirmed. “No, I wouldn’t. I may want to, but I know it’s wrong. I’m just sayin’.”

  The server put the check on the edge of the table. Before I could move, Brandon grabbed it and shoved at me to let him out of the booth.

  “I got this.”

  “Worry?” I asked Julie when he was out of earshot.

  She stared after Brandon. “Definitely. What do we do?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure.”

  ————

  Brandon acted weirder as time went by. He worked out with me once or twice after the sundaes, but in March, he started blowing me off. A few times, he turned and walked in the opposite direction when he saw me coming. By April, he was ignoring my calls. Julie and I celebrated both our birthdays with dinner out. We invited Brandon.

  He never bothered to reply.

  By May, he was cutting classes. I didn’t know if I should talk to Mr. Morris, maybe go to one of the counselors or directly to Brandon’s parents. What would I say? That the little voice in my head and I had this feeling he was in trouble? What if he wasn’t and reporting him got him kicked out of school? And then he couldn’t go to college, and his whole life would be ruined. He could end up homeless, mugging people for their spare change just to eat. All because of me. But what if I was right? What if I didn’t say anything and he ended ups in prison—or, worse, dead?