by Black, Chuck
“Congrats on the game,” Kaylee said.
“Thanks, and thanks for cheering.”
Alex yelled somebody else’s name and took off. Drew struggled to keep the conversation going.
“This party is crazy, huh?” He made a sweeping gaze across the premises.
Kaylee moved closer to hear him, and her perfume delighted him.
“Totally! The first time I went to one of Todd’s parties I was blown away.” Her fingers brushed Drew’s arm.
They chatted for a few minutes, and then Kaylee looked at the hot tub. “So, you going in?” She lifted her shirt over her head, revealing a bright blue swimsuit.
Heat rushed to his face. “Uh … I don’t think so.”
“Come on … It’ll be fun.”
“You go ahead. I’ve gotta find Joey.”
Kaylee put on a pretty pout. “Wait here.” She bolted into the house and returned a minute later, pen in hand. She grabbed Drew’s hand and began writing on his palm.
“Give me a call, okay?” She smiled up at him.
“Sure.” He looked at the numbers on his hand and smiled back.
She giggled and ran off to the hot tub.
Drew returned to the house, where it seemed as though it had filled with even more teens. He roamed from room to room, hunting for Joey. He’d tell him so long and then head home.
He finally asked someone if he’d seen Joey, and the boy pointed to a door that led out to another patio on the side of the home. As he made his way there, he realized some teens were holding beer cans.
The Hansens were okay with this?
He shook his head.
He found Joey with another group of teens, most of them football players, talking about the game. Cameron was with them, so Drew approached cautiously. The flames from an open-pit fireplace danced and licked at the cool evening air.
“Hey, Carter, we were just talking about you.”
Drew noticed that most of the guys and girls were holding beer cans. “Houk, I think I’m—”
“Give Carter a beer, Jayden,” Cameron shouted to a teen over by a case of beer.
The boy reached for a can and threw it to Drew. He caught the can and felt the cold sweat from it splash on his neck. “I don’t think so.” Drew set it down on the brick landscaped wall nearby.
“No stomach for it, hey, Carter?”
Drew could tell Cameron had already downed at least a couple.
Everyone waited, as if to see what Drew would do. Technically he had an obligation to tell the coach about this, but that wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the repercussions that would affect his life, and his mother’s, if he ratted these guys out. Even if he didn’t tell and they still were caught, he would be the most likely target as the rat.
“It’s okay, Carter,” Joey said. “One beer isn’t going to kill you.”
“Come on, Carter!” One of the other players joined in. “You deserve to celebrate after a game like that!”
Drew turned the cold aluminum can so he could see the brand. All the NFL football game commercials raced through his mind. Some of the best Super Bowl commercials were made by beer companies. They made it seem so cool.
He watched as his left hand reached for the top and snapped it open.
“That’s my man!” Joey raised his beer. The rest joined in to toast Drew.
Drew’s first drink of beer tasted horrible, and he tried hard not to show it. Why would anyone want to drink this?
He held the can and took a couple of small sips just to look the part, but he hated it. He joined in the conversation about the next game they would play against the Johnstown Giants. They were rated second in the state in their division—the game would be a tough one.
The other players bragged on Drew no small amount, pinning their hopes for taking the Giants down on his rushing and Joey’s passing. An hour passed, and Drew made his way to the bathroom. He set his nearly full beer on the counter and washed his hands, then looked up into the mirror. The image seemed to scorn him.
“What are you doing, Carter?” Drew looked deep into his own eyes and was ashamed. He lifted the can of beer and dumped it down the sink, then walked back out to the patio and threw the empty can in a garbage sack specifically placed for removing any traces of alcohol.
“I’m out of here, Houk.”
Joey looked at his watch. “Oh man! Cameron, we’ve gotta split too. My dad will be looking for me. I have to stay at your house tonight.”
Cameron smiled. “I can’t drive, Houk, and neither can you. Your dad would kill us twice if he knew we were drinking and driving.”
“We’re coming with you, Carter,” Joey said, and grabbed Cameron. “Come on, O’Brian.”
Drew grimaced, then thought about how bad he would feel if these guys ended up dead in a ditch someplace.
“Let’s go.” He walked around the perimeter of the house to where the cars were parked. His car was now wedged in, with no way out. It took another thirty minutes to find the drivers of the cars behind him so they could leave. Drew was getting more and more irritated by the minute. Cameron wasn’t drunk, but he had certainly become stupid, which only added to Drew’s frustration.
Joey sat in the front seat, and Cameron climbed in the back.
Drew studied Cameron. “You’d better not puke in my car.”
Cameron laughed. “Relax, Carter, I’m not drunk. You know, Coach Bruber made the right call. You’re the man, Carter … you’re the man.”
Drew shook his head. Why did he ever get into this situation? Never again. No matter how much Joey begged. He drove with an extra measure of caution, especially once he hit the city limits. Just a few blocks to go, and it would all be over.
They were approaching Third Street, the last busy intersection to cross. The green light ahead welcomed them through.
Psst.
Drew couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A beer top snapping open, releasing the pressure inside.
“O’Brian! What are you doing?” Drew turned and looked behind him. Had Cameron actually opened a beer in his car?
He had.
Joey laughed, which further incensed Drew.
“You idiot, O’Brian!” Drew clenched his teeth and reached back to smack Cameron, but at that same moment the interior of the car flooded with light—
For a heartbeat, a sickening feeling filled Drew’s gut.
He glanced to his right, beyond Joey, and caught a momentary image of a chrome truck grill inches away. Then glass exploded from Joey’s side of the car, and Drew flew to the right. A fraction of a second later, the momentum of the car stopped and he was thrown to the left with less force. His head slammed into his side window, and he fought to stay conscious. The smell of beer filled the car. Drew opened his eyes …
And saw Joey, lying across the center console, his head resting in Drew’s lap.
The right side of his head was covered in blood.
“No … no … no …” It looked bad—Drew didn’t know how to help him. “Joey!” Tears welled up in his eyes. He heard Cameron moaning in the backseat.
“Help!” Drew shouted. “Please help!”
5
CARTER’S CURSE
Drew didn’t have the courage to attend Joey’s funeral.
No amount of explanation could convince or compensate for what Joey’s family, friends, school, and even the entire community had lost because of his mistake. That horrible night, other law enforcement officers had had to restrain Sheriff Houk from getting to Drew. The sheriff’s screams were etched forever in Drew’s mind.
It was all over.
In that one moment, he lost everything.
There would be no friends, no football, no college, no future … no purpose. The guilt pressed down on his soul like a mountain, and the curse of a broken life laughed at him.
The police investigation could not find enough fault with Drew to incarcerate him. He was charged with a traffic violation for running a r
ed light, but that was all. The open container was not his nor accessible by him, and the blood alcohol test didn’t register any alcohol. But it didn’t matter.
It was the mistake that was unforgivable and unrecoverable.
Drew receded into himself. His mother wouldn’t leave him alone, but she was just as emotionally spent as he. Jake arrived the following day and took on the burden of keeping the two of them from complete collapse. On Jake’s last day with them, nine days after the accident, he coerced Drew and his mother to accompany him to the Flint Hills of Kansas, where the smooth, gentle lines of rolling hills on the horizon calmed the spirit.
“I’m planning our next camping trip.” Jake leaned back against the rough bark of an elm tree as they sat on a blanket beneath its shimmering leaves. The bright sun warmed the country air to seventy-two degrees—a perfect fall day.
Normally Drew would follow with dozens of questions about the trip, but today his only response was a subtle nod. He sat across from Jake, his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms crossed in front of his knees.
“Thought we’d do some rock climbing in the Ozarks.”
Jake glanced toward Kathryn. She gave him a weak thanks-for-trying smile, then gathered a few things and made a trip back to the car, just a few hundred feet away.
Jake leaned forward. “Drew.”
Drew lifted his chin and his eyes just enough to see Jake.
“On one of our missions in Iraq, we were clearing a hostile-rich section of Baghdad. Another Ranger—a guy named Garret Woods—and I were to enter the back of a building while the rest of the team covered the other two entrances.”
Jake hesitated. Drew could see memories surfacing that hurt.
“I thought I’d cleared a hallway to the right, while Garret cleared the one to the left. Somehow I missed a closet or recess, and Garret took a bullet because of my mistake.” Jake paused. “I know what you’re going through, and when I thought I should hang it up and quit life, your dad came to me and said, ‘Mistakes that cost lives can’t be fixed. All you can do is live the rest of your life in such a way that the fallen are honored.’ ”
Jake reached across and grabbed Drew’s forearm. “I know it’s hard, but giving up now wouldn’t honor Joey—he wouldn’t want that. Live so that Joey will be honored. No one in the world may know it, but you will.”
Drew’s eyes burned with tears that tried to spill. He swallowed hard and blinked. How? How is that even possible? The guilt, the pain, the injustice … it was too much to bear.
Later that afternoon, Jake returned to North Carolina, but Drew heard him tell his mother he’d be back soon. Drew sat on the couch and watched out the window as his mother and Jake exchanged a few words at the door of the rental car. She gave Jake a quick hug, and he left.
His mother came into the living room and sat next to him on the couch. The silence seemed deafening against the distant screams of a cruel world. Drew leaned over and rested his head on his mother’s shoulder … He was a wounded little boy again. With a gentle hand she caressed his thick, dark hair.
“I can’t go back to school, Mom … I just can’t face any of them again,” Drew said in a voice just above a whisper.
She didn’t try to correct him. He knew he didn’t really have a choice. They didn’t have enough money to move again, and jobs were few and far between. Private schools were too expensive.
Drew sat straight again. “You could homeschool me.” But he knew it was a futile suggestion.
His mother smiled. “I teach grade school, not algebra, government, and physics. Besides, the last I heard, the pay for homeschool teachers isn’t very good.”
Drew still couldn’t smile. “I’m old enough to drop out and work. I could get my GED in the meantime.”
Sadness darkened his mother’s face. “Drew, I know this is going to be hard … very, very hard … but we will walk through it together. It will get better. I promise.” She reached up and touched his cheek.
Other than getting a few hours of fitful sleep, Drew spent the rest of the time plotting how he could avoid as many students as possible, calculating doors, routes, and times—anything that would get him through the day unnoticed.
THE NEXT MORNING, Drew waited until the last possible moment to enter the school. The halls were almost clear as he slipped in the door to his speech class just as the bell rang. He avoided the stares, but his ears burned with the flames of whispers throughout the room. A couple of speeches were given, but he didn’t see who gave them or hear a single word.
When the bell rang, he waited at his desk until he thought the class was empty. He looked up—and saw Sydney Carlyle sitting in her desk. She stood, then turned around and walked to the back, to Drew’s desk. He pretended to read from a book he’d grabbed from home. He had prepared himself for any and all verbal abuse and in a strange way welcomed it. Perhaps it would ease his guilt through some cruel penance.
“I’m sorry for what happened.” That was all she said. Then she turned and walked out of the classroom.
Drew looked up again at the empty room—even the teacher had left.
By the end of his second class, it was obvious the word was out—Drew Carter was back in school. The glares abounded like fiery arrows, and vicious comments were shot in his direction multiple times. At noon, Drew grabbed his sack lunch and found a tree on a remote corner of campus away from most of the students. The day was gray and cold, a quick turn from the warmth of yesterday. He took a bite of his tasteless sandwich. How was he going to make it through the rest of the day, let alone the rest of the year?
As he wallowed in his cold misery, the slender form of Benjamin Berg sauntered over to him, sack lunch in hand. He sat down near Drew and dug into his lunch without saying a single word. Twenty minutes later, they both got up and headed back to the school. Drew made it through the day and back home to his bedroom. He would have rather been pummeled in football practice for hours and done a thousand monkey rolls than have a day like that … but he made it.
The next day was much the same, including Ben eating a silent lunch with him on the corner of campus. The third day, Drew looked up at Ben at the end of their lunch.
“You always know just what to say.”
Ben smiled.
“When did you start eating sack lunches?”
“When my friend did,” Ben said without hesitation.
Drew turned away and let the cold, dry wind prick his face. “Thanks.”
IT WAS A SLOW and painful transition into his new life, and it took weeks, but the whispers and glares diminished into a quiet hulking darkness that hung in every corner of the school. Occasionally it would scream and strike out at him, but those incidents became fewer and fewer as the weeks wore on. The football team struggled without their star quarterback and fullback, ending the season with a three-and-twelve record. Drew muddled his way through his classes, not caring about much of anything. His grades plummeted. It felt like he was back in sixth grade again, just waiting to fail in school.
And in life.
“So what are you going to do now?” Ben asked one day during lunch. They had been forced into the lunchroom by the drop in temperature the last few days. They picked a table in the corner, away from everyone else.
Drew looked at Ben with a blank stare.
“Now that football is done with you, what are you going to do?”
“I liked you better when you were silent. Can you go back to that?”
Ben just stared, waiting for an answer.
Drew huffed. “I’m going to finish this lousy year, drop out, get my GED, and join the Army. That’s what I’m going to do. I hate school and everything about it.”
“You’re too intelligent to just wait for it to end. Why don’t you actually try and see what happens?”
“Because I’m too far behind. I don’t even get half the stuff they’re talking about in math and science.”
“That’s because you quit. I’ll help you.”
�
��Why? Why should I try?”
“So you can go to college and do something with your life.”
“I need college to do something with my life?”
Ben seemed unfazed by his belligerent responses. “No, but you should go because if you don’t, you’re going to end up bagging groceries and being sour at the world for how mistreated you’ve been.”
Drew had taken a lot worse from dozens of other students and been fine, but Ben’s comments made him angry. He stood up and shoved the remains of his lunch into his brown bag. “Thanks a lot, buddy!” He couldn’t leave fast enough.
The next day Drew sat down across from Ben at their usual lunch table.
Ben waited in silence.
“Okay,” Drew said.
Ben didn’t even ask what he meant. He just nodded. “I’ll get you through the tough stuff, Algebra II and Physics—you have to take care of Speech, English, and the other subjects on your own. I have class at the college until five, and then I’ll be over.”
Drew looked at Ben, and realization hit him …
The one thing he did right at Rivercrest High was defend the football statistician from a bully one lunch hour.
The next morning after Speech class, Drew hurried and caught up to Sydney.
“Hey,” he said in his usual tone. Ben and Sydney were pretty much the only two students in the entire school that Drew talked to, although Alex did find him one day and told him he was sorry for how everything went bad on him. That meant a lot to Drew.
Sydney smiled. “Hi, Drew.”
“You know, these thirty-second dates are getting pretty serious. I was thinking we should probably cool it a little.”
Sydney laughed. He liked that. It was his first attempt at being lighthearted since the accident, though he did so without a smile.
Sydney angled a look at him. “I’m glad to see that you’ve found your sense of humor again. How about your motivation to study? Found that hiding anywhere?”
Ever since Drew started talking with her a couple of weeks after the accident, he’d noticed she wasn’t in quite her usual hurry to get to the front door. He liked that too.