The Duke of Bannerman Prep

by Katie Nelson

  The Duke began talking about the living conditions in homeless shelters in the United States. He spoke about the shelters as if he had been there not just for an hour to complete a community service requirement, but there. In the places good Samaritans don’t see, the dark corners and empty hallways. His voice, always so confident and in control, took on a faraway quality and as I listened, I thought, he’s the best actor on the planet. I could almost believe he was talking about himself.

  He ended his speech emphatically. Pleading for the homeless people, people who couldn’t speak for themselves, but deserved a voice, nonetheless. They needed help. Desperately. But not like this. Not as the affirmative team proposed. The debate wasn’t even close to over, but as the chubby guy got up to begin cross-examination, something had shifted. We’d gotten to the judges, and both guys knew it.

  The rebuttals went quickly. The skinny guy spoke rapid fire, desperately trying to answer all of our arguments, but when the Duke gave his final speech, I knew it was over. The judges weren’t even flowing anymore, and the older guy was already filling in his ballot. I knew not to get excited. There was no such thing as a sure thing. But I couldn’t help but feel satisfied.

  The debate ended. We shook hands. Congratulated one another. Thanked the judges for their time. Then we packed up our stuff, the Duke humming “We Are the Champions” the whole time. You had to admire the guy’s guts.

  After the judges left the room, the skinny Miramonte guy shook his head, and said, “Where’d you pull that out of? A Bannerman boy with firsthand experience in the San Francisco shelters? Riiiight.” He rolled his eyes.

  The Duke shrugged as he loaded our boxes onto the cart.

  The other guy spoke up. “Well, I guess it worked. Sure looked like the judges bought it. Good luck.”

  The Duke nodded. “You, too.”

  He put his messenger bag over his head, then pulled the cart behind him and we walked out of the classroom. I held open the door, and as he pulled it into the hall, jerking a little to get over the threshold, I wondered. It had sounded real. Had he been there, in those shelters, years ago? Was that why he tried so hard?

  Before I had more time to think, we turned the corner, and there were Tran and Jason and Garrett and a little beyond them, Kelsey. They all rushed over to greet us, and as we walked back to the cafeteria, talking about our rounds, I forgot all about the Duke’s story.

  In the days and weeks that followed, that became my biggest regret. That I never asked him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE BUS WAS ROCKING. LITERALLY. Swaying back and forth like we were in the middle of a 5.7 magnitude earthquake. And I guess, in a way, we were. My world—a world of Christmas presents bought on Craigslist and minimum payments on the utility bills—was all about to change. I could feel it. This win tonight was just the beginning.

  My throat was raw from screaming all through the awards ceremony. The Duke and I had taken first in Policy Debate, followed by Tran and Jason barely qualifying for third. Kelsey had pulled off a huge upset in the final round of Lincoln/Douglas, beating Tomas in a 3–0 decision. Overall, it had been a big night for Bannerman, and the celebration was in full swing as we waited on the bus for Watterson to collect the ballots and comment cards.

  Phone in hand, I texted my mom to tell her the news. She was probably at work, but she’d still want to know. Before I could put it back in my pocket, it buzzed.

  Can’t talk now. In ER with Sam. He’s in a lot of pain.

  It was a kick to the stomach. Sam’s pills. Mom would have looked for them. Would know by now that someone had taken them. How long before she figured out it was me?

  I stared at my phone, trying to think of something to say, but for the first time that day, I had nothing.

  A fresh chorus of screaming broke out as Watterson boarded the bus. Hands raised above his head like he was Moses returning from speaking with God, he stood in the aisle, trying to calm us down. “All right. I get it. You’re excited.” He tried to suppress a smile. “Give me a few minutes.”

  The bus quieted.

  “You guys did well. I’ve known you could do this all year. I’m glad to see you prove me right.”

  A whoop echoed from somewhere in the middle of the bus. Watterson glared, but continued. “We’ve still got a lot of work to do. National Quals are in a few weeks. And then there’s the actual state tournament. So celebrate tonight—you’ve earned it. Monday morning, be prepared to work.”

  The bus was quiet as we processed his meaning. It had been a good day, but we weren’t quite there yet.

  “Oh, and one more thing.” Watterson tapped on his phone. “I keep my promises.” The distorted sounds of piano notes trickled out of his speakers. The Duke jumped onto the bench seat in the back and joined in with the vocals.

  He was completely in character, flinging his arms around like he was Freddy Mercury performing in a stadium to a hundred thousand fans. He glanced at me as the music began to build.

  I wanted to join him. I wanted to feel what he felt. But I couldn’t quit thinking about Sam.

  The song ended and the bus driver picked up his microphone, telling us to settle down so he could get us home alive. As I slid into my seat, the Duke clapped me on my shoulder. “Tonight we celebrate. My house.”

  I nodded. “Definitely.” We’d earned it. And it wasn’t like I could do anything for Sam. If he was in the hospital, they’d take care of him. It would be okay.

  After considering for a moment, I added. “But not, like three hundred people or anything, right?”

  The Duke shook his head. “Not tonight. Only people who have something worth celebrating allowed.”

  I shook my head as I cut the engine. “What happened to just the team,” I muttered, as I pulled up at the Duke’s house. “Is he incapable of having a small party?”

  “This is small,” Peyton said, climbing out of the back seat. There were at least two dozen cars lining the driveway. Watterson had cleared it with the dorm parents for the juniors and seniors on the team to be out until midnight. We’d missed dinner, so we told him we were going to eat and catch a late movie. I think he knew we were lying, but he went along with it. Kelsey had insisted we drag Peyton with us, and even though she claimed she was too depressed about not qualifying to party, she still took a good thirty minutes fixing her hair and makeup before we could leave. So much for time alone with Kelsey. And Peyton hadn’t shut up the whole drive out there.

  I turned my head as she adjusted her skirt, still talking. “I mean, do you remember last year? Right after finals? It was so crowded people had to park on the highway and hike up.”

  I tuned her out as we walked up to the house. The music got louder—nothing I could identify, just thumping bass. I held open the door and followed Peyton and Kelsey into the house, past people I recognized but didn’t know. Outside the kitchen, a couple of guys were passing around Jell-O shots. “Kelsey!” they screamed as she walked up. “To Kelsey!” They threw back their shots and cheered.

  Kelsey shook her head as the first guy thrust a shot in her face. I grabbed her hand and led her downstairs.

  The basement was a little quieter. It smelled like popcorn and beer. In the game room, Garrett was playing Call of Duty with a couple of girls from his hometown, while Tomas and Jason played pool surrounded by spectators who cheered or groaned after every shot.

  When we walked in, we were greeted with applause.

  Tomas dropped to one knee in front of Kelsey. Holding out his pool cue, he said, “I bow to your superior debating, my queen.”

  Kelsey smacked him on the back of the head. “Don’t forget it. Or I’ll have to humiliate you again.”

  He went back to the game. I scanned the room, looking for the Duke, but didn’t see him. “You want a drink or anything?” I asked Kelsey.

  “Water?”

  I nodded and went back upstairs.

  There was some serious bumping and grinding going on in the living room, so I st
uck to the periphery, trying to make my way to the kitchen. Somebody stepped on my toes; another guy spilled beer on my shoulder.

  By the time I got to the kitchen I had a killer headache. Though I was sure the Duke had Tylenol somewhere in the house, I figured it would take more effort to find it than it was worth. I grabbed two water bottles and headed back downstairs.

  Halfway down the hall, someone called my name. I turned around and saw Abby pushing her way toward me. Hair curled, boobs almost falling out of a tank top that was at least two sizes too small, she marched through the house like the trophy wife she would someday become. The Duke followed her, his hand on her back, steadying her in her heels.

  The music was loud, and my head throbbed in time to the pulse of the bass. I could barely hear Abby until she was right in front of me.

  “Congratulations! On your meet. Or match. Whatever.”

  Tournament, I thought. I’d told her about a thousand times. I didn’t correct her.

  “How did you get here?”

  The Duke threw his arm around her shoulder, pulling both of them in closer so we could speak. “I sent a car.”

  It was such a ridiculous notion that it took me a minute to process it all. He sent a car? Like she was some kind of former First Lady who needed a chauffeur to get to the beauty parlor?

  I stared at Abby. “A car?”

  Abby rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Big noisy thing. Has four wheels. Runs on gas? Gets you from one place to another?”

  She was missing the point. “And you think that was a good idea? You climbing into a limo or a town car or something? You don’t think half the town has been talking about it for the last hour?”

  Abby glared at me. She didn’t have a comeback because she knew I was right. The Duke patted my shoulder. “It’s no big deal. Let’s get you a drink, mate. Everything will be fine.”

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Abby said. “You act like you’re so superior, Tanner. Do you even have a clue what’s going on at home?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Abby poked me in the chest with her finger. “I know it was you who took those pills.”

  “You don’t know—”

  “He’s been screaming, Tanner. For two days. His voice is hoarse and you can tell it hurts to scream but it’s the only thing he can do.”

  I shook my head and tried to look away, but Abby stepped closer. “It took three EMTs to hold him down and get him into the ambulance. Your mom was trying to help and he was flailing around and hit her and gave her fat lip.”

  “But he’s at the hospital now,” I said, and it came out like the sorry excuse that it was. “They’ll help him. Get him what he needs.”

  Abby scoffed, and in that sound was sixteen years full of irritation and annoyance and judgment. “For someone so smart, you’re really stupid sometimes. Yeah, they’re at the hospital. Do you know what the hospital did when they got there? Gave your mom a drug test. They think she took those pills. She’s officially on probation and could lose her job and her license. But hey, at least you got to get stoned and party with your friends and feel like a big shot.”

  “That’s not what happened.” I strained to get the words out, but Abby cut me off.

  “You think just because you’re miles away that you can ignore what’s happening, what you’ve done? It doesn’t work like that. Tomorrow morning you’ll wake up in your little shoebox of a dorm room and hate yourself. Because you did this.”

  I turned around. I couldn’t listen to any more. Abby was no saint. And she had no right to lecture me. Not here. Not now. Not tonight.

  I hurried down the steps, brushing past classmates who kept touching me—high fives, slaps on my back, fake punches in the ribs. They didn’t know why they were congratulating me, just that this party was in our honor. That was enough for them. Each time someone applauded me, it got worse. The noise got louder. The room got hotter. There wasn’t enough space to move around, enough air to breathe. I tried, but I couldn’t chase away the thought of Sam writhing in pain on the floor. He was just a kid, who’d already had a crappy life. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

  “What?” Kelsey asked, when I handed her the bottle of water.

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can we find some place to sit down?”

  The media room was dark. Some alien invasion movie was about half over. Kelsey walked to the loveseat where a scrawny guy was stretched out. “Move it,” she said. He hesitated, then got up and sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room.

  Neither of us had seen the movie, so we had no idea what was going on. For the longest time, we sat in silence next to each other. I tried to focus on the movie, but it wasn’t working. I kept thinking that I felt my phone vibrate, but each time I checked it, there was nothing. As a fleet of spaceships gathered outside the moon’s orbit, Kelsey leaned in and whispered. “They’re from Pizza Planet. Delivery in thirty minutes or it’s free.” It was the worst joke I’d ever heard, but it made me laugh.

  I was glad it was dark. It made it easier to forget. I watched the screen, telling myself that Sam would be fine, it would all work out, and that there was nothing I could do anyway. My head still hurt and my throat was raw and tight. The water I was sipping did nothing to help. The ships dashed across the sky, shooting lasers at everything in their path, and I put my arm around Kelsey, whispering, “It’s all an elaborate musical number. Wait. Beyoncé is going to come on any minute.”

  She laughed, and we went back and forth, talking over the dialogue despite being shushed several times. The closer I got to her, the easier it was to chase everything else out of my head. I could smell Kelsey’s citrus gum, feel the tickle of her hair against my neck. We were already so close. All I’d have to do was turn my head, lean in a little, and kiss her. I wanted to. So badly. I inched even closer, ready to make my move. She picked up her water bottle, unscrewed the lid, and took a drink.

  I stared at the screen, waiting, watching in my peripheral vision while she set the bottle down and tucked her legs underneath her. She relaxed into the loveseat, leaning against me. Her leg pressed against my leg. Her arm rested against my ribs. Her head was on my shoulder, in that space under my collarbone, and I was sure that she must be able to hear my heart knocking against my chest. Something important was going on in the movie. I had no idea what it was.

  Then music started playing, people on the screen were celebrating, and I knew the movie was almost over. I had to take my chance. Leaning forward, my hand brushed the hair off her cheek, and I kissed her. It was a light touch, and when I pulled away, I opened my eyes and saw hers.

  “Was that okay?” I asked, afraid of her answer.

  She nodded and swallowed. When she spoke, her voice was small. “Yeah.”

  “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Why don’t you show me?”

  I pulled her closer and kissed her again. Harder this time, deeper. I pushed everything out of my mind but Kelsey. Each kiss smothered the guilt a little more, and when we finally broke apart, when I looked in her eyes and tried to catch my breath, I was almost numb.

  Then the lights came on and someone yelled, “Get a room!” We pulled apart.

  I picked up our waters off the coffee table and handed Kelsey hers. People stood, stretched, and talked about leaving. I was sure my face was bright red, and I wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. I wanted them to leave. Get out, I thought. Go upstairs and get smashed. Just leave me and Kelsey here alone.

  Kelsey was tucking a section of hair behind her ear, her face and neck flushed.

  “Did you want to go upstairs? Dance? Or get something to eat?” I asked.

  She snuggled in and I put my arm around her. Eyes closed, smiling, she said, “I’m good.”

  “McKay!”

  My body tensed. Blake was standing in the doorway. He had a beer in his hand, but spilled it on the carpet as he marched over.

&n
bsp; “Where is she?”

  I was so tired of playing this game. I let out a frustrated sigh. “I have no idea. Not here.”

  Blake stood a few feet away from me towering over us. I wasn’t going to move. He swayed forward, his voice loud enough for people in San Francisco to hear. “Well, you invited her. Picked her up in a damn limo. You must have some idea where she is.”

  Even as Blake spoke those words, I saw it in his eyes. He knew. He’d probably known for a while. But he wasn’t about to let our entire hometown know that Abby had someone else—someone with money, someone with class. So he was here to cause a scene, to claim what he believed was his.

  It was no use lying for them anymore. I shrugged. “We both know who sent that limo.”

  Blake’s nostrils flared. “Well, where are they?” he shouted. “I’ll kick his ass!”

  He was a complete tool and he deserved to be humiliated, but Abby had chosen him. Abby had let this happen. Abby needed to be the one to deal with it. Even if it was going to be ugly. “Check outside.”

  Blake pushed his way out of the room, through the crowd that had gathered. I heard his feet pounding up the stairs.

  Kelsey touched my arm. “Is your cousin going to be okay?”

  I tried to swallow, but my throat was tight. “I don’t know.”

  She didn’t say anything else. We sat there, not speaking, while people drifted in and out of the room, sifting through the selection of movies, arguing about what to watch next. Kelsey patted my leg and stood up. “I’m going to find a bathroom. Want anything?”

  I shook my head.

  When she was gone, I pulled out my phone. Should I have called? Warned them? I wondered if he’d found them. Knowing Blake, he’d make a huge scene. Since nobody had yelled “Fight!” I figured we were safe.

  For now.

  Kelsey came back. “They’re starting another movie. Want to stay?” she asked.