Rotten (9780545495899)

by Northrop, Michael

  Rudy slows the car down as we approach the driveway. JR pulls his head in and retreats to the backseat, drunk and clumsy from too much air. Rudy flicks his turn signal on, nearly unprecedented behavior, and we head up toward the house. The house has a large lawn, which makes for a long driveway. The Fiesta creeps noisily up it, before coming to a slow, shuddering halt behind Aaron’s shiny red Malibu.

  There’s no way Aaron doesn’t know we’re here. For a second I think: What if he comes bursting out the door with a shotgun, too? I have to remind myself: We’re still friends. Yeah, he pulled me away from Mars in the hallway, but he probably did me a favor there. And even with Mars, pretty much everyone thinks we’re just feuding. We’ve all known one another for a long time.

  Rudy and I get out of the car. “You got him?” I say.

  Janie holds up the end of the leash, and I pull the seat forward. JR climbs out first and shakes his head around, his ears flapping and slapping against his head. Janie climbs out after him, and I push the seat back and close the door.

  “That him?” I hear.

  I whip around, and there’s Aaron. The front door is open, and he’s leaning against the frame and eating a slice of cold pizza.

  “Yep,” I say.

  He nods at Rudy. He’s sizing us up, trying to figure out why we’re here, but he’s so frickin’ casual about it.

  “Hey,” he says to Janie, much smoother than I’m comfortable with. Most of the time when I was dating her, I tried to keep those two apart, not because I thought they wouldn’t like each other, but because I was afraid they would.

  “Hey,” she says.

  He’s chewing again and doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks at JR, who is looking at the pizza. But his butt’s low. That’s bad. I don’t know if this is a Rottweiler thing, or if it’s just him, but when he really barks, like at Greg, with his teeth snapping and his eyes wide, his butt gets low. Butt low, head high, jaws flapping.

  “Don’t,” I say.

  He turns and looks up at me. If he starts barking like that, this is over before it begins. I think Janie knows, too, because she starts scratching him behind the ears.

  “He want the pizza?” says Aaron. He raises the hand holding what’s left of the slice, then lowers it. JR follows with his head, up, then down. His mouth drops open, but not to bark.

  “Huh,” says Aaron.

  We’re about halfway up the walkway, standing in a little group maybe ten feet from him. It’s like we’re standing there for his inspection, and we’re all dressed up for the occasion: me in my black boots, the most punk thing I own; Janie in her extremely tight jeans; Rudy in his most obscene shirt; and JR in the same collar he always wears. Aaron stops chewing for a moment and gives us one last look. He either figures out why we’re here or decides he doesn’t care.

  “Might as well come in,” he says, disappearing into the house.

  We follow him in, and it’s like walking into a cave. It’s a fairly bright day outside — partly sunny or partly cloudy, depending on your outlook on life — and there are no lights on inside. Sunlight is streaming in the windows, but it still takes a while for my eyes to adjust.

  “The power out?” I say to Aaron, once I locate him again.

  “Nah,” he says. “I just like to let my eyes cool off after that crap lighting at school. It, like, burns my soul.”

  “Yeah, I hate those phosphorescent lights,” Rudy says, and no one corrects him.

  Aaron is standing with his back to a big picture window in the living room. The light is coming in behind him. It’s kind of dramatic, like he’s an angel or something.

  “So, why are you here?” sayeth the angel. “Selling Girl Scout cookies?”

  “Well, I know you said a few times you wanted to meet Johnny here,” I say, which is true.

  “Yeah, and you didn’t let me come in that one time,” he says.

  “He was still really new,” I say, shrugging. “Anyway, we were driving around with him — he likes to stick his head out the window. Like in commercials and stuff.”

  “And you just thought you’d stop by,” he says, “and visit your good friend Aaron.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “OK.”

  “No other motives at all?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  It’s just me and him talking now. I take a quick look over at JR, to make sure he’s not pissing on the carpet or anything. He’s sitting down and Janie is down on one knee, scratching behind his ears, trying to keep him calm. Those are some very well-scratched ears at this point, and I wonder if he knows what she’s doing.

  “You want me to talk to Mars,” says Aaron.

  I spin my head back around to look at him standing in all that light. In a way, I’m annoyed that it’s so obvious, that this whole thing is so obvious. It makes us all seem a little ridiculous, standing here on the edge of his living room, dressed up and pretending to be casual. A little ridiculous and a little dishonest. On the other hand, now I don’t have to worry about how I’m going to bring it up.

  “Could you?” I say, my tone much more needy than I wanted it to be. I actually hear Rudy wince next to me, sucking in air through his teeth. Aaron shakes his head and smiles at the same time.

  “Unreal,” he says.

  I sort of wonder if this is it, but then Janie says, “Well, you might as well meet him.”

  Her tone isn’t needy at all, just friendly, and his expression resets.

  “All right,” he says.

  He starts walking toward JR. JR stands up, Janie stands up, and I walk around in front of Aaron and on to the other side of my dog. Janie gives me the leash and puts her hand on JR’s back. Aaron stops a few feet away.

  “Is he friendly?” he says, the universal code for “will he bite?”

  “Totally,” I say.

  “Is he safe?” says Aaron, making sure I got the code. I sort of wonder, and not for the first time, what Mars has told him: the truth, because Aaron is his best friend, or the same story he’s been telling everyone else.

  “He’s way safe,” I say.

  “What the hell,” says Aaron, taking a few steps forward. “That’s why they give you two hands.”

  But I notice he reaches out with his left, the one he’s more willing to sacrifice. I don’t think anyone in the room breathes. Even the breeze that’s been blowing in from the hallway seems to stop.

  His hand glides down toward JR’s head. He pets him.

  It’s an awkward motion. He sort of pats JR’s forehead a few times. It’s more like he’s blessing him than petting him. Then he pulls his hand back and I exhale.

  I look down at JR. He didn’t even bark. Maybe it’s because I’m right here, or because Janie is, or both. Or if you want to talk about “calm, assertive energy,” Aaron cornered the market on that a long time ago. Or maybe he knows this is why he’s here. I guess I’ll never know. I’m just glad I’m not going through the medicine cabinet right now, looking for more Band-Aids.

  “Awesome dog,” says Aaron. “Johnny Rotten, right? That’s good.”

  He pauses.

  “But I don’t know what I can really do for you.”

  “Did he tell you what really happened?”

  “Yeah, he did, and you guys did,” he says, looking over at Rudy. “And it’s two very different stories.”

  “He’s a rescue, you know?” So, yeah, I trot that out. It’s worth a try.

  “Yeah, I know. So?”

  And then it’s like floodgates: “So he had it rough, all right? Like, his whole life, and so maybe he bit Mars, who basically made him, but he was kicked around his whole life and never had a chance to learn anything else. He never had a chance, and now that he does, it’s going to be taken away. By frickin’ Mars. He’s going to be frickin’ killed.”

  “That really going to happen?” he says.

  “Yeah, probably,” I say. “Because it’s up to the judge and there’s all this crap that Mars and them are stacking on top of the mountain of crap th
ey’re going to wheel into court, just to try to get more money. And, so, dead dog, and he never had a chance, and you don’t even know what that’s like.”

  I want to make the point that he’s this big, square-jawed dude with a nice car and what does he know about getting the short end of anything, but all I can think to do is point at him. I’m basically accusing him of being himself.

  “All right, JD, settle down,” he says. “I know what it’s like.”

  “Yeah, how?” I say.

  Aaron takes a step toward me, and I feel JR shift on his leash.

  “Hey, hey,” says Rudy, his first words this whole time.

  “Come on, guys,” says Janie.

  “Because I had a dog,” says Aaron.

  All I can think to say is “Really?”

  “Yeah, I had him from the age of, like, a few months to three years, I think,” he says. “Because I got him for my sixth birthday, so yeah, three.”

  “What, like, what happened to him?” I say.

  It’s a question I should either definitely ask or definitely not ask, but it’s out of my mouth before I can figure out which.

  “He just didn’t make it, all right?”

  “All right.”

  “That, right there, is never having a chance.”

  “Yeah, damn. Sorry, man.”

  “Sorry,” says Janie.

  “That blows,” says Rudy.

  Aaron looks at him, then back at me. “So I understand, all right, but I still don’t see what you think I can do.”

  “You could talk to him,” I say.

  “So could you,” he says.

  “I have, plenty. But he’d listen to you.”

  “Wouldn’t matter if he did,” says Aaron. “His folks — his mom — they’re driving that train. They smell money. He’s just the one that got bit. And he did get bit.”

  “Yeah, but Mars provoked him, and there’s no way that nerve stuff is real.”

  Aaron shrugs.

  “And you could …”

  “I could what?” he says.

  “Well, if you, like, cut him off, I mean, he’s got no one else at school. At least not without you.”

  “So you want me to cut him off?”

  “No, you just need to, you know, act like you might.”

  “So threaten him?”

  “Yeah, why not? Or even do it for a few days. It’s his social life. This is an actual one.”

  “Or if you got him to admit it, that he got himself bit, that the nerve stuff is crap,” says Rudy.

  “Yeah, or that!” says Janie.

  They think I’m flubbing this and need their help, but I was getting to that part.

  “Admit it to who?” says Aaron.

  “Um, a witness?” I say.

  Aaron is quiet for a few long seconds, and then he says, “I don’t know about a witness, but you might want to get a clue.”

  The line hits me hard, and Aaron walks it back a little, saying he was just kidding. But I feel stupid, and a few minutes later, we’re out in the driveway.

  “That could’ve gone better,” says Rudy.

  “At least he didn’t bite him,” says Janie.

  “Not like it matters,” I say, but I reach down and pat JR’s side.

  “You don’t think he’ll do it?” she says.

  “What, talk to Mars? You heard him. Wouldn’t matter if he did.”

  “It might,” she says.

  I hand the leash over to Janie and open the passenger-side door. JR hops right up into the backseat.

  “He was so good,” I say. “What a waste.”

  Friday sucks — and it’s Friday, so that’s saying something. For someone who mostly listens to punk rock, with some metal thrown in, my life has been pretty damn emo lately. First of all, there’s school. Aaron gives us the cold shoulder all day. If anything, it seems like he’s hanging with Mars even more. I see the two of them huddled up and talking about something a few times. I figure he’s telling Mars about us stopping by like charity cases, imitating me: “Could you?”

  God, I feel like a loser. And then I find out my detention got doubled. Skip one day, get two. I think about skipping it again just to see how many days I’d end up with. Instead I go and just sit there, staring at an open book.

  We’re not even allowed to have headphones in here. That’s a double kick in the groin, because you can’t listen to music and you can’t not hear the whispering around you. Today, it’s about me: still the perfume thing. The guys in the back of detention are to gay jokes what microwaves are to cooking.

  It’s Jordy and those guys. Mars isn’t there, which is a good thing. If he was I might end up with a lot more than two detentions. But he served his time yesterday, and I’m left trying to ignore these three goons.

  Now they’re on to shower jokes, which I guess is about juvie. They consider me a fake tough guy because my classes are a level up from theirs, and I consider them fake tough guys because they’re fake tough guys. I know before they do that they’re going to get sick of me ignoring them. I wait for the first balled-up piece of whatever to hit the back of my head, and I don’t have to wait long.

  Once it’s over, I have to ride the late bus with two of the same guys, not Jordy but the Jordettes. I’ve been asking Rudy for a lot lately, and coming back to school on a Friday just to pick me up is too much. Anyway, those two don’t say another word. I guess two-on-one is a little too close to a fair fight for them.

  I get off the bus and there’s Greg’s car behind my mom’s in the driveway. Now it really is a greatest hits collection. He must’ve just gotten here, because halfway to the door, I can hear JR still barking at him inside.

  I dump my stuff on the kitchen table and the barking stops. Mom pokes her head in the room. “Hey, Jimmer, can you come in here for a sec?”

  “Course,” I say, but I’m thinking: Uh-oh.

  “Hey, Greg,” I say, before I even see him.

  When I do, he’s sitting at the head of the table, like he’s going to carve a turkey. JR has retired to his corner, but his head pops up as I walk by. He gives me a look I can’t figure out, happy, sad, afraid, maybe all three.

  “Pull up a chair,” Greg says, as if this is his house.

  Mom pulls her chair out slowly and sits down, like she’s demonstrating how it’s done. She hasn’t even asked where I was and why I had to take the late bus. I do my part and sit down.

  “Yeah?” I say. The court date is Monday, so I don’t know if this is a pregame or what. It’s not: The game’s over. Greg makes it quick, I guess because Mom already knows. It’s official; we’re settling. Of course we are. He’s been “talking to their guy all day,” and they’re “willing to settle” for a “significant payout.”

  “What’s that mean for us?” I ask.

  “We’re going to take a hit,” he says.

  “What about the insurance?” I say, but I feel like I’m going through the motions here. We already lost, and now I’m just asking for the final score.

  “Tried to back out, made a bunch of noise because they weren’t told about the earlier incidents,” he says. “Which is crap, of course. I rattled their cage a little. It’s not my first time with them. Anyway, that’s what we’re left with. They’re paying most of it.”

  “So we’re paying what?”

  “The rest.”

  “Of a ‘significant payout’?”

  “Yes.”

  I want to ask him how significant, but I look over at Mom and her expression gives me a pretty good idea.

  “And Johnny?”

  “Well, I’m not the judge, and I’m not in his head,” he says, not answering.

  “But?”

  “But that ship has sailed. I’m not even sure he has any latitude at this point. We’re past three strikes.”

  I look over at JR, just the top of his back visible from here. I stand up. There’s an empty mug on the table in front of me and I pick it up.

  “So we’re probably going to
lose this place?”

  Greg and Mom look at each other.

  “We might,” she says.

  “Well then,” I say, and throw the mug clean through the window. The mug blows out one of the square glass panes and keeps going. Greg and Mom both flinch, but they don’t say anything. JR scrambles to his feet and starts barking.

  “Come on, boy,” I say over the top of him. “Let’s go for …”

  But I don’t say, “a walk.” I can’t. He gets so happy when I do, and that doesn’t seem fair. He figures it out once I grab the leash anyway.

  “Greg killed you, boy,” I say, once we make it to the path. It’s a breezy day, and the wind is pushing through the tops of the trees. The rustling sound it makes seems to go on forever. No one else will ever hear what I say now. “Yes, he did, because he’s a coward and a bean counter, and he’s afraid to go to court.”

  I don’t know if that’s true. He says it wouldn’t change anything, except cost us more money. And I’d say that it feels better to have someone to blame, but nothing about this feels even remotely good. It doesn’t matter at all now, and JR has no idea what I’m talking about anyway.

  He’s sniffing around, tugging on his leash. He loves it out here, and that’s killing me. Because it’s not so much to ask, right? Except it is, and I’m not even going to be able to come out here after he’s gone. I guess I didn’t come out here much before we got him, but it still sucks.

  I said JR doesn’t understand what I’ve been saying about Greg, and that’s true, but he knows I’m upset. He slows down until he’s behind me a little and then comes up and bumps the back of my knee with his head. I don’t know why he does it that way, but I know what he means. I sit down on the ground, in the grass and dirt just off the path, and he sits down with me.

  I don’t say anything, and I don’t cry, if that’s what you’re thinking. We just sit there, and after a few minutes, he puts his head on my leg. Two cyclists zip by, and I don’t know what they think of us, but I know I don’t care.

  After that, we get up and head to the pond. Ever since Rudy and I fed him that fish, JR pretty much insists on going all the way there. Then we head back. The wind picks up and it’s like it’s pushing us home. The tops of the trees are really whipping around, there’s no one else here, and now I really can say anything. I only manage two words: “Sorry, boy.”