So why is it she can call me a pig, but can’t say shit to a rapist like Mike? She’s almost kind of a bully in her own way. The yearbook is still on the ground and I swipe it up in one smooth move. I go to a stool and open the book, unable to remember what page she told me to look at.
“Why’d she bring that book? Walk down memory lane?” Brent asks, as he and Logan start a new game.
“Naw,” I say. “We didn’t go to the same school. Well, we did a bit, but then I moved, remember?” I flip a couple of pages, recognizing some old faces, and not liking the old feelings it stirs up. “Besides, we weren’t in the same crowds. Even if I had stayed, we wouldn’t have memory lanes to walk down.”
“Too bad you won’t take on your rich guy persona,” Logan says. “Might make you a little more perfect for her.”
“Naw,” Brent says, taking the break. “It’s better like this, beauty and the beast.” The balls shatter across the table, pinging off each other and the walls.
I feel for the guys. Logan works at a tattoo parlor around the corner during the day, and an inpatient drug rehab at night, and Brent works as a mechanic at a shop down the road. Neither of them have much of a chance to meet women, and as a result they’re liable to think anything on two legs is attractive.
But Amy isn’t their type. I’ll have to make sure she knows that, in case either of them actually do make a move.
“And I’m the beast?” I say.
“Yeah,” Brett replies, hitting a ball in. “Even if you did take it in the face out there.”
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” Logan says. “Amy would have been hit.”
“Then that’s kind of her problem for jumping in, no offense,” Brent replies.
Yeah, Brent definitely isn’t good enough for Amy. I don’t really want her to spend time around my friends. I know it was mean to act like I didn’t want to see her, to chase her off like that. Now that I’m calming, I can see she didn’t mean any harm. She did seem to have something to tell me about Camille. I’m such an idiot.
I’m not sorry for chasing her off, I’m just sorry for how I did it. I flip a few more pages, racking my brain to remember what page she said. I’ll go see her after I’m done here. I’ll apologize, but I’m not going to offer to bring her around or anything.
It can’t go well with my friends, not on either side. They’ll act like fools around her, and she’ll insult the people I care about by calling them pigs when she doesn’t understand them.
I get to a page where a photo is circled with black sharpie. I look closer, because the kid seems familiar somehow. I can’t put a finger on it.
“Yo Geoff, where you want to get dinner?” Brent asks, resting his arms on his cue.
It’s dark out now, and the dim light of the pool hall is bright in comparison to the night outside. The bar is starting to smell stale, and it’s getting more full. It smells like onions.
“Not here,” I say, shutting the yearbook.
“Should we go to a diner? Invite Amy, maybe?”
I wrinkle my nose. “No.”
“Oh come on,” Logan says, finishing a successful shot on the eight ball to end the game. He racks the balls as he tries to convince me to get her. “She seemed lonely.”
“And sad,” Brent says, adjusting his beanie.
“You two just want to hang with her because she’s hot.”
“Bingo,” Brent says, grinning.
“Is that suddenly a bad thing?” Logan asks. “Besides, I miss having a chick around. It’s about time you found one, dude.”
“Why is it just my time? You all could find one.”
“No time. No prospects in comparison. We just have to wait for you to bring one by,” Brent says.
“Or you use that as an excuse so you don’t have to commit.”
“Eh, sure,” Brent says. “I don’t see a problem with that.”
They are ridiculous. “I guess we could pick Amy up. If you both can behave.”
“Hey, if she’s your girl we’ll be on our best behavior.”
“And if she’s not? Because she isn’t,” I say tucking the yearbook under my arm and leading the way out the front door.
“Then we’ll be on even better behavior,” he says, winking at Logan, who laughs.
I turn to face them. “Look guys, she’s a good friend, despite how I treated her. I need to know you’re gonna be good.”
“Come on, would you really be friends with us if you thought you couldn’t trust us around women?” Brent says, taking off his beanie to reveal his matted black hair. He smashes it back on. That’s gotta be itchy.
“No, I guess not.”
“Good. I was about to be kind of offended,” Logan says, grabbing me through the arm. I push him off, and he laughs again, and we all pile in Brent’s car. I slump in the back while Logan takes shotgun. The yearbook slides off onto the seat next to me. I don’t want to look at it, even if I know I should.
“So where does she live?”
“I guess I should probably text her and let her know we’re coming.”
“Maybe she won’t want to go out with you, after something like that?”
“Nah, I’m sort of helping her with something. She’ll want to go out.”
“All right. Just give me the directions,” Brent says.
I text Amy that we’re headed over to apologize, and I give Brent the directions. Then I zone out for the rest of the drive. Maybe I just didn’t sleep well last night, because I had the short couch and Amy woke me up early. Maybe because my head is still throbbing a bit from that punch. Maybe because I’m ashamed of going off on Amy for coming to see me. In reality, I was just so pissed to see her in trouble out there, and I hate myself for being the reason she came.
It feels like I’m dragging her down into my world. This is the world where Camille got hurt, and I may be comfortable here because it feels like nothing’s changed since Camille died when I’m here, but Amy coming into this world with me is dangerous.
I know she’d say that’s stupid, that I could protect her, but then again, how can she actually believe that when she knows I failed so bad in that sector? I couldn’t even protect my own sister. Why didn’t I just go to that stupid ass party? The second she sent Knight home, he should have called me.
No, I have to remember what my shrink says. It’s not his fault, not my fault, not Camille’s fault. It’s only one person’s fault. Now I just have to find that one person and make them pay.
I grab the year book again. Who actually keeps these around? Who wants to remember high school? People whose sister didn’t die midway through.
People who didn’t have their whole world collapse in on them.
I dig my nails into the cover, then force myself to stop. I’m getting nervous as we get to Amy’s place. We pull up in front and Brent, the doofus, honks loudly, probably waking up the whole neighborhood. Sometimes I’m embarrassed by my childhood friends, other times I just want to blend in and pretend to be one of them.
Someone who has always had a hardscrabble existence.
She waves to us as she opens the door and comes out. She’s on the phone and smiling happily. I was expecting to have to cheer her up or something. She motions to us that it’s going to be a minute, and Brent turns back to me with a smirk, as if he can sense that I’m getting jealous that someone else can make her smile like that. Which I’m not.
She finally hangs up and gets in, a light flush on her face only making her look prettier. I stare regretfully as she gathers her full, soft hair and pulls it up into a ponytail. “Sorry, had an unexpected call.”
“Who was that?” I blurt out, unable to stop myself.
She tilts her head and gives me an innocent look that I find instantly aggravating. “No one important.”
“That a guy, Amy?” Logan says, turning back to grin at us. “Tell uncle Logan all about it.”
She giggles, a musical noise, and I’m further aggravated. “Uncle Logan? I guess it�
�s all right then.”
“So go ahead. Who is he? Ignore that grump in that back seat. He’s already misbehaved enough for one night, and should not be taken seriously.”
She laughs full out now, and it’s a soothing sound. At least it would be, if she wasn’t currently laughing at me. “Okay.”
“Hey, she was the one putting herself, and me, in danger.”
“Like you mind being put in danger,” Brent mumbles from the front seat. “So yeah, who’s the dude? You were smiling up a storm out there.”
She fidgets and looks down at the phone with a small smile, turning it over in her delicate hands. “I guess he’s an old friend. I haven’t seen him in years. He used to live down the street. Came to my parties in high school.”
“So when’s the last time you saw him?” Logan asks, seeming genuinely interested. Logan’s good at getting people to talk. Probably part of being a tattoo artist.
If he ever has the money to do it full time, he’ll probably be really good at it. But as is, he does pretty well for someone working a graveyard shift all night and then drawing on people during the day and trying to make people comfortable while doing it. I have one of his tats on my shoulder. I figured at least if it went wrong there, then it wouldn’t show so much. But it went pretty good.
Knight and I both got another one from him, the day of Camille’s funeral. Thorns, because she was our rose, across our backs, so we couldn’t ever forget her.
It felt good to be hurt, felt good to take the pain of the pen for her, felt good to know that a part of her would always be with me. She would have liked the tats too, would have said they were badass. She always said when we were old enough we were all going to get tats, a rose for her, and thorns for us, her thorns.
Knight and I didn’t talk, but I guess I did hope that because we were at least sharing that together, that he wasn’t going to disappear when it was over. But he did. And I grew up. And then we moved. Everything changed.
But when I’m back in this neighborhood, it’s almost like nothing happened. I keep saying that, so why am I not that comfortable here after all?
“Anyway, he wants to meet up again, but it’s been so long, I’m not sure if I should,” she says, flipping the phone over and over again. “I mean, what if he’s changed, what if I’ve changed?”
“He’s from your neighborhood, so he’s a richie, like you?” Brent asks. “How much could he have changed? It’ll probably be fine.
“Yeah,” Logan says, sending me an evil smirk, like he thinks I care that he’s encouraging Amy to go out with another guy. It’s probably better if she’s distracted by one.
I’m not the guy for her, so even though I’m willing to protect her, it’s good if she has someone else to direct the romantic urges towards. Should save us both a lot of trouble.
“You should call him,” I say. “Have him meet up with us for dinner. Then we could at least check him out for you.”
“Really? Wouldn’t that be weird?”
“Nah,” I assure her. “I mean, it’d be weird of him to expect you to meet him alone when you haven’t seen him in so long. This is safer, and it gives you a chance to see if he’s a weirdo that you might not want to see anymore than that.”
“I guess so,” she murmurs, blushing as she looks at the phone. I brush off another wave of irritation.
“Just call him then. Or do you want me to do it?”
She snorts. “Yeah, like that would work. I can do it.” But she just stares at the phone. “I’ll wait till we get out. I can’t do it with everyone staring at me.”
“Too bad,” Brent says, chuckling. “I like to watch.”
“Ew,” Logan and I say simultaneously, pulling more laughter from Brent.
When we get out, Amy walks away from us and keeps her promise by opening her phone. She puts a hand on her chest and takes a deep breath, as if to steady herself. I don’t want to watch, so I turn towards the dark street.
I used to love to walk down this road in the dark after going here with Knight and Camille. We’d split whatever we could afford, and then stroll down the street in the darkness, picking our teeth with toothpicks and patting our stomachs and laughing under the streetlights while we tried to figure out where to go next.
Back then, it just felt good to be full, since my step-dad never gave us enough, and at those times we thought we had the best lives ever. And I got to live with my best friend. What could be better than that? Camille and I were inseparable, and Knight let me tag along whenever I wanted, though I tried to be respectful.
Watching the streets, I can almost see the ghosts of our former selves, walking along ahead of me, laughter fading into the eerie silence of the night. Then a breeze sweeps through, blowing the ghosts away and scraping a few crispy leaves over the pavement.
The diner’s kind of dead inside, but I tell Brent and Logan to go inside, to keep them from staring at Amy while she’s trying to call. I fold my arms and try not to listen. It’s not my business.
She hangs up and bounces over to me, practically beaming, eyes bright with embarrassment or pleasure. I’m not sure. Not the eyes she has when she kisses me at least. Not the sleepy, dark, lustful look that she had when I took her lips with mine.
Childhood friend dude can date her, but he can’t have everything.
“He’s coming. Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it.” I open the door for her and she goes in, still babbling.
“So you two were childhood friends?”
She shakes her head. “No, just met in high school. We were friends and then, just when it seemed like maybe it would go further, his dad got a job somewhere else, and that was that. We said we’d stay in touch, but we didn’t do a very good job. I’m really happy to hear from him though. I could use a friend right now.”
“And you think he’s only interested in being friends?” I ask stupidly, putting a hand at the small of her back to lead her to the booth.
Normally she’d notice and yell at me, but instead she’s just sort of floating around like she’s on a cloud. Great. This guy better not mess with her senses, since she needs all of them right now with this Mike kid around. It’ll be good to have two of us on duty though.
“I forgot the page you mentioned in the yearbook. What did you find?” I ask, after she’s seated in the booth. I pull up a chair alongside them and sit at the head of the table, straddling it. Amy frowns at my posture, as usual, but doesn’t say anything about it for once.
She leans in close. “I think we should talk about it later. Once I tell you, you’re going to want to leave.”
“Then maybe I should know.”
“But Josh is coming,” she says reluctantly. “I thought you wanted to meet him. And I need dinner. And the stuff in the year book can wait a few hours.”
“All right,” I say. “Tonight then, afterward.”
“I guess so,” she says. “I mean, unless…” She looks off to the side, blushing again. Girl blushes freakin’ frequently.
“Unless you get lucky?” I say crudely.
She swats at me, blushing too hard to be very angry. “Stop it. He’s a gentleman. We just might want to go and catch up afterwards.”
“You know Dollface, just because a guy is rich, doesn’t mean he doesn’t think with his dick.”
“I know that. Assholes come in all classes and stations. But I know Josh, and he’s not like that with girls. He’s always nice.”
I shrug. “That makes me trust him even less,” I say, glad that Brent and Logan are deep in conversation and can’t hear what sounds even to my own ears an awful lot like jealousy.
“You would, wouldn’t you? Not trust someone just because they’re nicer than you, able to be better than you?”
“Better than me?”
“Able to want a girl, not just in the sack, but as a friend?”
“We’re friends.”
“You know what I mean. Able to commit. To want everything.”
I grab one of the group of root
beer floats that was just delivered to the table by a harassed and bedraggled looking waitress named Wendy. I make a mental note to leave a huge tip. She looks like she could use a few days off. Having grown up around here makes me really sympathetic to those who have less. I’m here by choice, most of them are not. They were raised here, and never really given a chance at anything better.
I slurp down the float and Amy pushes hers to the side. Then she squeaks and opens her phone.
“He’s here. He’s outside, should I go get him?”
I suck harder on the float, and then my head erupts in a burning head freeze. I rub my forehead and take deep breaths. Logan and Brent look up at us, interrupted and suddenly interested. “No,” I say. “Just tell him to come in.”
“I think I should just go get him,” she says, jumping out of the seat before I can’t do anything to stop her. I sit back with a sigh and wait.
Logan and Brent are staring at me knowingly.
“What, you want me to go out there and fetch her?”
They both shrug, but smile, and then I look over at the door. It dings as it opens, and Amy comes in, with a fucking Calvin Klein model trailing behind her.
Shit and double shit.
Chapter 11
I ignore Geoff’s scowl and introduce Josh to the table, still in shock at how he looks. Dude looks like some kind of angel, some kind of heaven sent model that deigns to grace us all with his presence. The room is ten degrees hotter just because he’s here.
He’s like some gift from the universe, because he’s just what I need to stop thinking about Geoff, stop obsessing about him or Mike. My moms are going to be so happy to see him too. He’s going to UC Berkeley as well. How impressive is that? Maybe going to a UC wouldn’t be so bad after all.
I always liked that he’s a little feminine featured. With a long, thin nose, wide eyes with long lashes, and a pointed chin. But in the couple of years he’s been away, he’s filled out, with a strong, straight jaw, and high, gorgeous, aristocratic cheekbones.
He and Geoff couldn’t be more different if they tried, and yet they are sort of odd reflections of each other as they sit across from one another at the table. Logan and Brent smile and shake Josh’s hand, but Geoff just sort of folds his arms and nods, as if somehow suspicious of him.
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