by Raziel Reid
13
Shoot-out
“I just don’t get it,” Angela said, flipping through a magazine and puffing on a cigarette as she sat on her parents’ bed with a box of their sex toys and porn. “Which one of them is into this stuff?”
“I’m guessing the pink wig is for your father,” I said, striking a pose in front of the full-length mirror in Mrs Adams’ wedding dress. “He is balding.”
“But what about what’s in this magazine?” She held up a picture of three cartoon animals going at it. “Which one of them is a furry?”
“Okay, call me a slut, but I would totally do that fox.”
“You’re a creep.”
I took another shot of the Sourpuss we stole from the liquor cabinet.
“Oh come on, like you wouldn’t.”
“Like you would,” she said, flicking her cigarette ash over the side of the bed. “You’re the one who’s still a virgin.”
“I can’t help it. I’m far too in love with myself to love anyone else.”
“That’s as transparent as saying you’re celibate by choice.”
“Well, I’m saving myself for Zac Efron.”
“Get over it, Jude. He’s not gay. That picture was a hoax.”
“He wouldn’t be able to resist me.”
“You’re going to die alone and miserable if you keep going after straight guys.”
“Says the girl who will have screwed and screwed over every guy in this town by graduation.”
“Do you think that’s why they went away for the weekend? So they could put on costumes and do it like animals?”
“Probably. I just can’t believe your mom wore white.”
“I’m not even drunk,” Angela sighed, taking another shot. “And I need to be drunk for this.”
“Well, I suddenly have an urge to roll on the floor and sing, ‘Like A Virgin,’ so I would say I’m … perfectly sober.”
“There might be enough vodka in the vodka bottle filled with water to catch a buzz.”
“I’ll go get it,” I said, winking. “I know you’re dying to try The Shake-Spear.”
I stepped into the hallway just as Abel’s girlfriend Carly was coming out of the bathroom.
“Nice dress,” she said, but her voice was flat, so I couldn’t tell how she meant it. I had never seen her in person before, only the picture Abel kept in his wallet. She had light brown hair, but I bet she put “blonde” on her driver’s license. Her skin was smooth, and she had light freckles on her nose. Her liquid eyeliner was smudged in the corners, like she and Abel had just been doing it. I looked at her and ached.
Abel came out of his room shirtless, and that’s when I realized that Carly was wearing his shirt, a blue button-up that was too big for her. She wasn’t wearing pants. Her legs were smooth and chalk white. We were all pasty; it had been a long winter. The sun only shone on TV.
“Your mother has great taste, Abel,” I said, doing a spin. “You like?”
“Sure,” he shrugged, scratching his bare chest, which was turning as red as his face. I couldn’t stop staring at his fuzzy blond treasure trail.
“Who wants to play Russian roulette?” Angela asked, stumbling out of her parents’ bedroom. The pink wig was crooked on her head, covering one of her eyes. She dangled a black gun from her middle finger.
“Where the hell’d you find that?” Abel asked.
“Underneath Mom and Dad’s mattress,” she shrugged. “They hide things there too.”
“You should’ve left it,” Abel said.
“Relax, loser. It’s not even loaded.”
“Why do your parents have a gun?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Carly said.
“Yours don’t?” Abel asked.
“See,” Angela said, putting the gun in her mouth.
“Angela, cut the shit!”
She pulled the trigger and it clicked. Then she started giving the barrel fellatio. Carly rolled her eyes and looked away while I cheered her on.
“Give it to me, you ho-bag,” Abel demanded, grabbing it out of her mouth. He aimed it at her head and pulled the trigger—it clicked. Then, he spun around like he was 007 and fired. I screamed as the gun went off, shattering the window at the end of the hall. It was so fast that, at first, I didn’t know what happened. But then Abel dropped the gun, and Carly jumped back like she was scared it might go off again. She stepped on the train of Mrs Adams’s wedding dress, which ripped.
“Jesus Christ,” Abel gasped. “I thought you said it wasn’t loaded!”
“Well, not entirely,” Angela laughed. “How else are we going to play Russian roulette?”
I stared at the gun, then slowly picked it up. It was heavier than I thought. I guess I expected it to be as light as a toy because that’s what it looked like. It was so cold, I was surprised Angela’s lips hadn’t gotten stuck around it.
Angela put on some music and Abel yelled for her to turn it down, but she couldn’t hear over the bass. He started putting cardboard on the broken window and Carly swept up the shattered glass. I put the gun to my temple.
I was born with a cunt in my brain. I was fucked in the head.
Angela came over and took the gun out of my hand, kissing my cheek. She was holding a bottle of wine she’d found hidden at the back of her parents’ closet like they were saving it for a special occasion. “Come take a bath with me,” she said in her baby voice that no boy could resist, not even me.
Mrs Adams’ veil dripped over the edge of the bubble bath as we got in the water. At least Angela didn’t make me get naked like last time or pee and then take a mouthful of water, squirting it in my face and shrieking with laughter.
As the bathroom mirror steamed up and we sat across from each other in the tub, I decided I should tell her that I was leaving, even if I was scared that she’d beg me to stay. Or maybe that she wouldn’t.
“I’m getting the hell out of here,” I said.
“Why? The water’s still warm.”
“Not the bath. This town.”
“Well, yeah,” she said. “Who isn’t?”
I didn’t say anything, but I knew that she’d never get out. That she’d have her first kid by senior year, be a beauty school dropout, have the couch in the police station named after her, and live unhappily ever after with her very own Ray, her French-tip nails wrapped around a bottle of booze.
“No,” I said, “I mean I’m leaving soon. I’m saving up for a bus ticket.”
“What do you mean?” She asked. “A bus ticket where?”
“Hollywood.”
“Okay,” she laughed.
“I’m serious, Angela. I have to get out.”
She took a big swig from the wine bottle, letting it dribble down her chin into the bubbles. She was waiting for me to crack up and looked so wasted, her eyes reminded me of Stoned Hairspray when she’d stare off like she could see my demons.
“I can’t stay here anymore,” I told her. “I’ll die.”
She just kept looking at me, waiting. But when I didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile, she took off her pink wig and dropped it to the wet tile floor.
“When?”
“As soon as I can steal enough money from my mom. Her new boobs are bringing in a fortune so it shouldn’t be too long.”
She nodded, chugged the wine.
“So, what—you think you’re going to go to Hollywood and be a starlet or something?”
“Well, why not? I’m already tragic enough, and I love pills and champagne.”
“Yeah, but you won’t sleep with anyone,” she said. “You won’t sleep with everyone. How do you expect to get cast in anything?”
“That’s why you should come with me.”
“No,” she said, grabbing a handful of bubbles and holding them in her palm, blowing lightly until they separated and drifted between us. “I can’t come with you.” At least Angela knew it.
“It’s my dream,” I said.
“You’ll be back,”
she said.
I shook my head once, slowly.
She nodded, smiling so prettily I almost believed it was real. “Well,” she sighed, emptying the rest of the wine into our bathwater, turning it red and staining Mrs Adams’s wedding gown, “here’s to your dream.”
“It looks like we’re soaking in blood,” I laughed.
“Yours,” Angela said, dropping the bottle with a splash.
When I got out of the bath and dried off, Angela was already curled up in her bed. Her sheets were soaked all around her. She had passed out on the far side so she wouldn’t sleep clutching my arm like a teddy bear the way she usually did.
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, so I just sat on the edge of the bed looking down at her. She looked like a blow-up doll. White skin and pink lips. Her mouth was open, and there was a little drool hanging from the corner of her mouth, but she was still beautiful. Angela was the most beautiful girl I knew. She wasn’t generic like Madison and Alexis. They were beautiful, I guess, but their beauty was cheap. Anyone with a fake tan who wasn’t afraid of a nip-slip could look like them.
I looked up at the Bob Marley poster above Angela’s bed, which I could sort of make out in the dark. Her dad had ripped it off her wall once in a rage after he’d “confiscated” her pipe. She’d cried because she really loved that pipe. We called it Liberace, partly because it was so sparkly and partly because Angela used it as an anal dildo. I helped her tape the poster and put it back on the wall. Bob was smoking a blunt and smoke streamed off his lips. “Is this love?” was written on the bottom.
I decided to walk home. I took off Mrs Adams’ wedding dress and put on my own clothes. It was so cold in the hallway I could almost see my breath. The cardboard and duct-tape window wasn’t holding up. I walked past the living room and saw Abel and Carly asleep on the couch, lit up by the flashing TV on mute. Abel opened his eyes and saw me standing there. I waved at him with my fingers and he stood up, looking down at Carly to make sure she was still asleep. When he was sure, he silently walked with me to the front door and started to put on his boots.
When we got outside, it was snowing, and the wind whipped the snow off the ground into our faces. I hadn’t worn a hat because I was having a good hair day. At least my hair was long and covered my ears. Abel wasn’t wearing a hat either, but he had his curls. My jacket was pretty delusional too. I hated the down coats everyone wore. I wore a chic little pea coat. Fashion before comfort; you can be warm in hell.
Abel and I walked down the middle of the street because there was too much snow on the sidewalk. At the end of the block, a snowplow was stuck, beeping incessantly. We still didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I just wished he would put his arm around me because I was so cold. I remember thinking how if I were Carly, he would’ve put his arm around me.
We walked to the park without thinking, even though we were freezing and even though it was stupid to be outside. The snow was so deep, we sunk into it up to our knees. Abel swept the snow off the bench, and despite the fact that my teeth were chattering, I sat next to him. I didn’t want to go home.
I waited, but nothing happened, so I finally took his arm and put it over my shoulder. I was worried that he might take it away, but he didn’t. I think he wasn’t worried about being seen; everyone else was either inside or frozen to death. It didn’t make me feel the way I hoped it would. There wasn’t anyone there to see, and that’s what I really wanted.
I put my hand on his lap and started rubbing his jeans. I couldn’t really feel it because my fingers were so numb. He looked around, but there was no one. He let me unzip his jeans, and pushed my head down on his lap as his head hung over the back of the bench. He tasted like a girl. My stomach swirled. My nose was running, and my mouth was dry.
He didn’t even notice when I cried.
14
Fight Sequence
M y grandma came over to take me and Keefer to church the next Sunday morning. The irony that I prayed to a naked man in bondage was not lost on me. She came early so she could wash the dishes, which were always piled in the sink. “What your mother puts you boys through,” she said, shaking her head and scraping dried spaghetti out of a pot.
I helped Keefer get ready because my grandma forced us to wear suits to church. They were hideous and matching; so uninspiring that I couldn’t even trick my mind into believing I was at the Church of Scientology in Hollywood, where I went to be one with Xenu and Tom Cruise’s dick.
My grandma got so involved in cleaning the house that she lost track of time. When Keef and I were dressed, I sat in the living room, staring at the clock, hoping she’d forget and we’d be so late she’d be too embarrassed to go.
When she saw the time on the stove, she started yelling loud enough that Ray moaned from the bedroom, the bedsprings creaking as he turned over. “We’re late!” she gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me what time it was?” She came flying into the living room in her Sunday best and yellow rubber gloves. She didn’t stop shouting, “We’re late!” until Ray threw a shoe at the door to shut her up. She was like a robo-nun gone haywire. Her rosary was steaming.
When we got in the car, my grandma sped out of the driveway and down the street. Every other time she drove she went ten miles an hour and prayed the entire time, but when she was late for church, the skin on our faces peeled back.
Keefer didn’t mind church. He pretended to read the Bible upside down. At least he was more attentive than me; I just stared at Jesus, naked on the cross. He was the first man I ever had a crush on, even before Tobey Field. There was something about him—his face was so peaceful, even though he was in so much pain. He was the perfect submissive. If I had been Saint Veronica, I would have let him use my veil to wipe away his sweat and then sucked on it.
Keefer once asked me what heaven was, and I didn’t know what to tell him, so I said it was “somewhere in the sky.”
“Oh,” he said, nodding. “But what is heaven?”
“How do I know?” I snapped, but he looked at me the way he would sometimes—like he thought I knew everything. “Well,” I sighed, “I guess heaven is kind of like a fairy tale. You know how at the end of a fairy tale they say, ‘and they lived happily ever after’?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I think maybe that’s what heaven is. I think heaven is sort of like happily ever after.”
But this is not a fairy tale.
When my grandma dropped me and Keefer off after church, my mom and Ray were fighting.
There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.
I went down to my room and put on the ruby slippers I’d stolen from the props department. I clicked my heels, hoping they’d work like reverse magic and take me away to Oz, my real home, where everyone is fabulous and freaky and sings catchy songs.
They didn’t work. I could still hear the fighting which was so loud that Stoned Hairspray was hiding in the dryer. I took off the shoes and opened my door to go upstairs and get Keefer because I didn’t want him hearing any more than he had to. But he was already sitting on the bottom step of the basement looking up at me.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, and his face lit up as he nodded.
We snuck out my window and went to the Day-n-Nite. Angela was there, sitting in our back booth. Keef and I went to sit with her, even though I wasn’t sure if she wanted us to. She’d been ignoring my texts since I told her I was leaving town and was rarely at school. Angela always tried to hurt you before you could hurt her. She was very competitive about that kind of thing.
She didn’t smile when Keef and I slid into the booth, but she didn’t get up and leave either. A part of me regretted having told her. Maybe it would’ve been best if I had just left, if I was just another name under the booth of boys who had broken her heart.
I ordered Keefer fries and a shake, which I paid for with some of the money I’d saved. When he was done eating, he played with his action figures under
the table.
“Shit,” Angela said suddenly, ducking her head.
“What?” I asked. “I don’t think there’s enough room under there for the two of you, although you’d know better than me.”
“Shut up,” she whispered. “I just don’t want to see them right now.”
“Who?”
I turned around and saw Luke and Trey standing at the counter, both in sweats that showed their bulges and wearing baseball caps backward.
“What, don’t want to see the future prom kings?”
“Not right now. And stop looking!”
“Trey is a nine, but Luke, Luke is an eleven. Although both of them together … ”
“Oh God,” Angela moaned. “Just shut up.”
“That would be a twenty. Could you imagine?”
The parts of her cheek I could see turned red.
“Are you blushing?” I laughed. “Have I created a mental image that makes even the unconquerably provocative Angela Adams blush?”
“Fuck off. Are they still there?”
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to look?”
“Just don’t make it obvious.”
I looked just as they turned to leave, the bells ringing on the door.
“They got it to go,” I said.
Angela sat up and we watched them through the window as they got into Trey’s truck.
“Now that I’ve gotten a good look from the back,” I said, “I’m going to have to bump them each up a number.”
“They are gorgeous, aren’t they?” Angela sighed.
“I thought things were going well with you and Trey. Luke reeked like your perfume in English yesterday, so you must still be leaving your scent all over his house.”
Angela didn’t answer; she just stared through the glass after Luke and Trey.
“Let me guess, you’ve made your way through the team and found one you like better?” I laughed. “Oh, and did I tell you I’m seriously considering asking Luke to be my date to the Valentine’s dance? If only to see the look on his face.”
“Don’t, dude.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s retarded. It’s never going to happen.”