by Larry Doyle
“How long can you swim, Cooverman?”
Water was the only thing that had ever come close to killing Denis. His mother had left the bathroom for only a moment, to get a cleaner towel. The toddler was facedown in the tub when she returned. He wasn’t moving.
“I don’t know.”
Baby Denis’s eyes were open, watching. He was fascinated by the no-slip fish and was unaware he was drowning.
“Well then,” Kevin said, “let’s you and me find out.”
Denis could swim forever. His father had made sure of that. The boy had been snorkeling since he was five, diving since he was ten. He had a half dozen international scuba certificates, including one for diving in caves. Water had tried to kill Denis, and he had made water his bitch.
So Denis was certainly not afraid of getting thrown in some smelly puddle. He could sink to the bottom of the lake and swim underwater all the way to the shore without being seen. He could hide in the woods until morning, or until the authorities arrived to dredge the lake.
The only problem with that plan was that it once again required Denis to run away.
“I hope you fucked her,” Kevin said, making conversation.
He wasn’t afraid of Kevin anymore, Denis realized. These constant attempts on his life were getting annoying, as a matter of fact.
“It would be a shame for you to die without the privilege of fucking Beth Cooper,” Kevin said. “No, privilege isn’t right. More like, without getting your turn.”
That inchoate rage deep inside Denis was beginning to differentiate itself.
“You did fuck her, didn’t you?”
The rage had a face.
“Won’t say? You’re a gentleman? Well, that would be a first for her.” Kevin peered into the water. “This is deep enough.”
Kevin saw the paddle but wouldn’t remember it.
FROM THE SHORE, it was difficult to tell who had gone into the water. Then Denis stood up in the canoe, legs apart, and thrust the paddle into the air. The poncho helped immeasurably in completing the cinematic silhouette.
Rich grinned. “Star Wars one-sheet, 1977.”
Sean kicked him in the head again.
HIS MOMENT OF GLORY savored, Denis turned his attention to his victim. He scanned the water around him.
“Kevin?”
Kevin’s face floated a few inches below the surface. The eyes were closed and a thin red ribbon wafted off the temple. The face grew darker as it sank.
A vision of Dr. Henneman, uncharacteristically dressed as Obi Wan Kenobi, appeared to Denis.
Denis, with your SAT scores, you’d practically have to kill someone to not get into Northwestern.*
“Oh no,” Denis whispered. “I’ve practically killed someone!”
Denis threw off the poncho and dove into the lake.
NO ONE ON SHORE wanted Kevin completely dead, and there was a general sense of relief when Denis resurfaced and started back with the soldier in tow.
Treece nudged Sean.
“Go! Get in there and help!”
Sean, insulted: “Do I look like a fucking marine?”
Denis did not need the help. Among his assorted international diving certificates was one for lifesaving; he had even worked a couple of summers lifeguarding at the Cambridge on the Lake condominium complex, where his main duty was finding out whose kid was pooping in the pool.
As he reached chest-high water, Denis shifted Kevin onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He emerged from the lake, clad only in wet tighty whit-eys, and it became apparent to all assembled he was no 98-pound weakling. He was 105 pounds of sleek swimmer’s physique, previously hidden by shy hunching and frightened cowering. His hair was wildly tousled and his wet hairless body shimmered in the first morning light.
Treece was awed. “It’s like when Clark Kent turns into Batman.”
“Check out the underpants,” Cammy said approvingly.
“I have,” said Beth.
DENIS DUMPED KEVIN onto the grass. “I’m going to need some help,” he said, rolling the body over. He looked to Sean and Dustin. They looked back.
“Don’t they teach you guys CPR in the army?”
“Yeah,” Dustin shrugged. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“The job’s not really about saving people,” Sean said.
“I know CPR.” Beth crouched next to Kevin.
“Okay,” Denis said, “you do breaths and I’ll do compressions.”
“I’m not putting my mouth on his! We’re broken up.”
“You are?” Denis asked a little too transparently.
Beth was annoyed. “Why would I mess around with you if I was still with him? What kind of person do you think I am?”
The tiff would have to wait.
Kevin rolled to his side and vomited some water. After several seconds, he opened his eyes. He smiled.
“There you go, Cooverman,” he said with a wet rattle, “giving up your tactical advantage again.”
Kevin shoved Denis to the ground as he staggered to his feet. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands. “Okay!”
“It’s getting real late,” Dustin complained. “Can’t we just beat the shit out of him and go?”
“Fine,” Kevin said. He lifted his foot to stomp on Denis’s kidneys. He was in this pose when the spotlight hit him.
“Step away from the boy,” a loudspeaking voice said.
The squad car flashed its cherries and gave a short burst of siren for emphasis. The other Lake Hakaka police car pulled up behind it.
The army men seemed perplexed by this turn of events.
“Duh,” Rich informed them. “We called the police.”
“We’re not like stupid teenagers,” Treece added.
23.
THE MOST EXCELLENT AND LAMENTABLE TRAGEDY OF DENIS AND ELIZABETH
I’VE JUST HAD THE BEST SUMMER OF MY LIFE, AND NOW I HAVE TO GO AWAY.
IT ISN’T FAIR.
SANDY OLSSON
IT WAS MORNING when the squad car pulled up to 22 Mary Lu Lane, a tiny ranch house only a block from where Denis’s father grew up. This was what was known as Old Buffalo Grove, which local Realtors touted for its large selection of starter homes.
Denis, Rich and Beth were in the backseat, being delivered home by a Lake Hakaka police officer who, in all honesty, had nothing better to do. Cammy and Treece were escorted in the other patrol car, after sitting on Sean and Dustin’s laps for the ride to the station.
Denis’s anxious predictions to the contrary, it did not appear as if Beth was going to be charged with ten crimes. Kevin’s father had quickly agreed to forgo larceny charges in exchange for Denis’s statement that he didn’t feel as if he was being murdered at any point in the evening. Treece’s father dealt with the Woolly family, persuading them that seeking justice for the front of their house was not worth a class-action lawsuit over knowingly serving alcohol to minors at a party supervised by their drug-addicted son. Later it would turn out that none of the kids at the party had seen anything anyway.
On the ride home, Rich had entertained Officer Peasley with Pacino cops from Serpico, Sea of Love, Heat and Cruising, as well as Pacino robbers from Dog Day Afternoon, Scarface, Donnie Brasco and Dick Tracy. He threw in a little Scent of a Woman, even though it was off-topic.
Denis and Beth fell asleep on each other, briefly, and at different times.
BETH GOT OUT OF THE CAR. She left the door open to say good-bye.
“Thank you for a very memorable evening.”
“We’ll have to do it again sometime.”
“Sure,” Beth said.
Denis said, “Sure.”
“Good luck. With Northwestern, and everything.”
“You too. With everything.”
She extended her hand. Denis took it. Beth grinned, and bent down and kissed him.
On the forehead.
She walked away.
Denis got out of the car. “Wait.”
Beth turned
around.
“See you at the reunion,” Denis said.
“Yeah.”
“If you’re not too fat, I’ll marry you.”
“Thanks,” Beth said. “That’ll give me some incentive.”
She fluttered her fingers in farewell, and started back toward the house. None of the lights were on. She took out her keys and let herself in.
Denis got back in the squad car.
“YOU’LL SEE HER AGAIN,” Rich said as the car pulled away. “She’s had a taste of the Coove.”
“Please stop calling me that.”
“You know, I think we might have more traction with ‘The Penis’ anyway. We just need to spin it, give it a legendary angle—”
“You said it would be better if I got over her.”
Rich didn’t answer right away.
“I just want what you want.”
Denis gazed out the window. He got what he wanted. Didn’t he?
A minute or so later, Rich spoke again.
“Hey, guess what? I think I’m gay.”
Denis’s reaction was more pronounced than he thought it would be.
“Dude,” Rich said. “I’m not gay for you.”
“That’s great.” Denis recovered. “I mean, the first part.”
“I may be bi. Cary Grant was bi.”
Denis spoke next, but not for another couple of minutes.
“So,” he said, “what’re you doing later?”
“I gotta go get my shoes.”
“After that, want to come over?”
“What for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sure.”
THE PATROL CAR TURNED onto Hackberry Drive. Rich spoke again.
“The DVD for Go, Mutants! just came out. On the unrated disc, Shanley Harmer is 30 percent more nude.”
“I thought you were gay.”
“Celebrity nudity transcends sexual orientation. You want me to bring it over?”
“By all means.”
Denis’s parents were waiting for him on the front lawn. His mother hugged him, started to cry, and ran into the house. Denis and his father walked to the door.
“I hope you had fun,” he said.
“I did. I had fun.”
They stepped over the apple tree.
“You know we’re going to have to punish you…somehow.”
“I know.”
“What do they do these days? Do they still ground you? I don’t even know.”
“Whatever it is, it was worth it.”
Mr. C put his arm around his son.
“Let’s not tell your mother that.”
24.
THE CRAWL
ALL MY MEMORIES FROM HIGH SCHOOL ARE FROM TONIGHT.
DENIS COOVERMAN
Denis grew seven inches that summer, and gained nearly forty pounds. Growing pains kept him in bed for most of July, but he didn’t mind.
Rich gave homosexuality a shot, didn’t like that either, and was holding out to see what the other alternatives were.
Cammy and Treece decided they were just good friends, who should not drink so much around each other anymore.
Denis didn’t see Beth Cooper again until late August, a week before he had intended to leave for school…
About the Author
LARRY DOYLE, a former writer for The Simpsons, works in showbiz and writes funny things for the New Yorker. He lives outside Baltimore with his wife, Becky, their three children, and one dog, until it dies, and then no more dogs, according to the wife.
Please visit www.larrydoyle.com and www.iloveyoubethcooper.com.
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Credits
Jacket and Interior Illustrations by Evan Dorkin
Jacket Design by Allison Saltzman
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
I LOVE YOU, BETH COOPER. Copyright © 2007 by Larry Doyle. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © MAY 2007 ISBN: 9780061842498
Version 08162013
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*Née Judah Weinstock.
*Incorporated 1958.
*His brain filled in the Northwestern.