Punk Like Me

by JD Glass

  Whoa, okay. Back up. What the fuck was going on? It’s not like I expected them to instantly become bosom buddies or anything, but this, this weirdness, was unexpected. I think I had just witnessed an instant, mutual loathing—how bizarre was that?

  “We ready?” Samantha asked me, turning on her heel. “You coming?”

  “Not with you, she’s not,” Kerry muttered in an angry undertone I hoped I was the only one who could hear. “Wait a second.” Kerry grabbed Samantha’s coat sleeve. “You taking Nina Cherry here for a ride?” she asked in a loud voice and challenging tone.

  As Robbie choked and ducked under the counter and I stared at Kerry in shock, Samantha, who had turned back when Kerry’s arm had reached out, stared at Kerry’s hand on her sleeve until Kerry dropped it.

  “Good,” Samantha breathed out, and she leaned over and down, until her face was mere inches from Kerry’s. “Now, her name is Nina,” Samantha hissed at her. “Should you choose to call her any other, she has earned ‘Razor.’”

  I placed a hand on Samantha’s arm. “Sam, Sammy, it’s okay, she didn’t mean anything by that.” Well, all right, I knew what she meant, but I wasn’t going to explain it to Samantha.

  Samantha ignored me, her mouth a thin, tight line. Bright red spots stood out on her cheeks. “Should either of those not suit you or your,” and she looked Kerry up and down, “uses,” she said with a twist of her lips, “then I believe the proper form of address is Ms. Boyd. Are we clear?”

  • 161 •

  JD GLASS

  “Samantha, stop,” I tried again. “We have to go.” Samantha just held her ground and Kerry’s eyes until Kerry Þ nally nodded. She looked positively furious. Her face was bright red, and her eyes were almost yellow with anger. I’d never seen her look like this, ever, and I’d never seen this side of Samantha, either. I wondered if there was something in the air. I was feeling a little snappish now, myself.

  I gripped the arm I was holding. “Blade!” I spoke sharply, “save it for the water—let’s go!”

  Samantha shook her head and seemed to recover herself. “Jesus, yeah,” she muttered and glanced around a second, then looked at me, a bit red-faced. “Sorry,” she said to me, then looked at Kerry. “Pre-race anxiety,” she explained, rather casually.

  Kerry had the grace to accept that with a nod. “Fine,” she replied curtly. “Now that you’re done playing shark, can you give me a lift home in your…” she looked past Samantha to her car, then back, “babe mobile?” she sarcastically emphasized. “It’s on the way to Nina’s.” And she stomped out of the store toward the car.

  Glancing quickly at Samantha, I walked out after her, and Samantha followed me. We made our way through trafÞ c, and the three of us stood around Samantha’s car.

  “I can’t give you a ride home, um, Kerry,” Samantha stumbled a bit over her name, “because I’ve already told my uncle where I was driving to and who I had in the car. I can drop you off at Nina’s, though, okay?”

  “That’s Þ ne.”

  Samantha opened the doors and we all piled in—me in the front, Kerry in the back.

  Kerry pushed the book bags over and looked around her at the car as Samantha started it up and then leaned over me to place her purchase in the glove compartment. She closed it with a loud snap.

  “Big backseat you’ve got.” Kerry bounced on the seat a bit.

  “Big enough,” Samantha replied shortly. She gunned the motor and pulled out. We drove for a few blocks in silence until the block before I lived on.

  “Just make the next left, then stop right on the corner, that’s me,” I pointed out for Samantha.

  She nodded and did just that, pulling up to the side of the house.

  Samantha cut the motor, and I stepped out. So did Kerry.

  • 162 •

  PUNK LIKE ME

  “Nina, take a minute to change—it’s cold!” Samantha called out from the window.

  I nodded in agreement and walked to the front door with Kerry. I stopped as we reached the step and turned to speak to her. “Kerr, I’m really, really sorry about that, I had no—” Kerry placed her Þ ngers on my lips to shush me, then replaced them with a gentle kiss which I returned. God, her lips were so soft, and it was so easy to just sink into them.

  “I’m not mad at you for that, Hopey,” Kerry said when we broke off. “I’m not mad at you at all. You know I understand being tense before a race. But…” and she took a breath and paused, “Samantha the Shark’s a bitch.”

  I opened the door to the house and considered Kerry’s thoughts and feelings before replying. I’d been shocked by the entire interchange between them, so I wasn’t exactly sure what to say, do, or feel. On the one hand, Samantha had clearly been standing up for what she thought was an insult toward me, and to tell the truth, I was shocked that Kerry had said it in the Þ rst place—I’d thought that was, well, private, you know? It was one thing when she’d said it to me the day before, but it really sounded different when she said it in the store. I wasn’t too sure whether or not I liked it. On the other hand, it seemed that the whole weird thing could have been avoided—it was like Samantha had wanted to, well, Þ ght or something.

  “Samantha usually, well, I’ve never seen her really do something like that,” I spoke slowly, weighing my words, “unless…” Well, she was defending someone, I thought, but didn’t say that. “I don’t know,” I said instead. “I guess, maybe, this is a tremendous meet for us, there’s a lot riding on it, on her,” I said. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” Okay, that sounded lame to me too, but what else was I supposed to say?

  “Oh, she meant it all right, Nina,” Kerry said darkly, “but don’t worry about it. Go get your stuff and do whatever it is you do.” And she kissed me again. “I’ll see you later,” Kerry told me and walked off.

  I watched her, then realized that Samantha had gotten out and come around the passenger side to lean against the car.

  I wondered if she had seen the whole thing, and I hoped not, not so much because I was embarrassed or anything (well, maybe just a little—I’ve never been really big on PDAs—you know, Public Displays of Affection). It’s just that it was, you know, personal—as in, none of anyone’s business. Maybe the shrubs in the planter hid her view, and I

  • 163 •

  JD GLASS

  was back a bit in the doorway.

  Besides, if I was going to tell her and she was going to know, and eventually she would because that was right and fair, it had to be on my terms, when I could actually sit and talk with her and not have to worry about silly things like major swim meets or hostile interactions.

  Kerry stopped a minute on her way and pointedly looked Samantha up and down, then walked on.

  Shit. Oh yeah, that was going to make it better, I thought resignedly.

  I pretended not to see Samantha as I turned and went into the house. I dumped my books off by the door and ran up the stairs.

  Changing my clothes in record time, I slid on a Love and Rockets tee and a pair of black jeans, then grabbed my boots and bag and ran back downstairs. I dashed off a quick note for my parents and siblings, telling them where I was and reminding them it was on the schedule I kept posted on the refrigerator.

  I ran to the door, got out, locked it, and quickly made my way to Samantha’s car. She left her leaning post against the fender and climbed in on her side as I crossed the sidewalk.

  “Okay, we’re good,” I told her, tossing my bag in the back and shutting the door. Samantha waited, making sure I buckled my seat belt, then took off in a roar of rubber, gravel, and dust.

  As we skidded down the block, Samantha popped another tape into the deck, and as we caught up to Kerry, Concrete Blonde’s “The Beast” overß owed the windows. “Say good-bye to your,” and her mouth twisted in distaste, “girlfriend,” she told me as she skidded the car to a stop in front of Kerry, while words that said something to the effect of love being a killer you thought was a friend echoed down the
block.

  I know there was a message in the music, and while I probably had an idea of what it was, I just wasn’t sure where it was directed. And if it was a warning, I didn’t know who it was for.

  I rolled down the window and leaned out.

  “Nice choice of music,” Kerry commented in Samantha’s direction.

  “No fooling you, I guess.”

  “You didn’t bother to try.” Samantha had the same bored face and tone as before.

  I turned back to look at her and she glanced at my face. I know I appeared a little confused; I had no idea what she was talking about.

  Well, maybe I did, but it didn’t bear thinking about right then. For a little while, Samantha and I were still friends, and I wanted to keep it

  • 164 •

  PUNK LIKE ME

  that way.

  “Never mind, Razor,” Samantha told me, her voice a touch warmer than frost. “Just say good-bye. Good-bye, Kerry,” Samantha said ß atly,

  “nice meeting you.” She held both hands on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield, as if to say any more bored her and she might fall asleep.

  “Likewise.” Kerry smirked at her. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you later,” Kerry told me, bending down to look into my eyes.

  “I’ll call you when I get home.”

  Kerry reached for my face, softly stroked my cheek, and gently kissed my lips. “For luck.”

  “Great, just great,” I heard Samantha mutter under her breath.

  “The whole team’s gonna fuckin’ drown.”

  If I’d been hoping Samantha hadn’t noticed before, well, for sure she’d noticed now. I don’t care how she stared out the window, I could feel her eyes on the back of my head like heat lamps trying to melt my skull as I kissed Kerry back. But really, fuck it. I was getting a kiss from a pretty girl—and if we were going to stay friends, Samantha would just have to deal, right?

  “Okay, we’ve got to go. Bye,” Samantha reminded us Þ rmly, then gunned the motor.

  “Thanks.” I smiled softly at Kerry as we Þ nally parted. I was touched by her concern. “Bye!” I waved to Kerry, and Samantha ß oored the pedal. The car lurched forward, and I slammed back against the seat.

  “See you later!” I could hear Kerry call out behind the car, and at that, Samantha spun the tires. We were off, rocketing around the block, the only sound except the roar of the engine the next chorus of the song: love as leech and a vampire. The rest of it played on, and I carefully watched Samantha’s face, her expression still as bored as it had been earlier, except for the tightness of her mouth. She hadn’t said a word or kicked me out of the car—yet. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak.

  Finally, she reached over and turned the music down a bit and, with visible effort, relaxed her face into a calmer expression. She turned her head to face me. “Catch a nap, Razor, you could use it,” and she gave me a small smile before returning her attention to the road.

  I let out a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding. She wasn’t going to say anything, for now anyway. I guess she was focused on

  • 165 •

  JD GLASS

  the meet and wanted me to be, too. Which is what we needed to be.

  “Thanks, then, I will.”

  I closed my eyes and did just that. I could deal with yelling, I could deal with outright disgust, or even some form of discussion, pro or con, but I wasn’t prepared to deal with the silence. As I drifted off, I remember, despite my earlier bravado, thinking clearly, praying, I hope you don’t hate me, Sammy Blade, and I thought I heard her answer, “I could never hate you, Nina.” That would be nice, I thought, before I didn’t know any more for a while.

  What seemed like minutes later, Samantha was gently nudging my shoulder. “C’mon, Nina, we’re here. Time for the Razor-Blade Slice and Dice.”

  I opened my eyes and looked around me, at the car, at the parking lot, gathering my wits and my bearings, and Þ nally, up at Samantha, whose face in the quickly gathering twilight was pale, making her eyes a clear blue. Her expression was soft and open, and I just took in her eyes, the clarity of them, then shook my head. “Okay.” I straightened out from my sleeping slump. “Let’s get to it, then.” I slapped my thigh.

  “Yes, let’s.” Samantha grinned at me, and grabbing our equipment, we got out of the car and walked to the main entrance.

  Samantha and I grinned at each other again, no longer simply Nina and Samantha, but Razor and Blade, and the familiar sense of anticipation and anxiety that I had before every meet curled in my stomach and grew until my nerves hummed like taut steel strings. I breathed in deeply and let the energy gather into my stomach, just building until I could focus it into a direction.

  Our opponents were going to be tough, but we were going to be tougher. We were Þ erce, I was Þ erce, and while the main focus of all that competition was the other team, some of it was very personal.

  The coach would analyze each of our performances and shufß e our positions accordingly. Some would become heroes; they would earn names, awards, and pivotal positions. Others would be placed in less critical roles. Every meet, every race, was a test, a survival challenge to be faced, and it wasn’t enough to merely survive. You had to excel.

  We quickly climbed the stairs to the door and strode through.

  A few steps later, Samantha and I stood in an enormous lobby, with various side openings and disappearing cross hallways, and looked around. We were lost.

  • 166 •

  PUNK LIKE ME

  “Well, I don’t suppose you know where to go?” Samantha faced me, one hand on her hip, the other on her bag.

  I walked over to one of the bulletin boards and began to scan the pinned-up papers, searching for information or anything resembling a map. I would have settled for one of those you-are-here schematics.

  “Nope, no clue,” I answered as I found nothing. “I’m trying to see if there’s a map or guide somewhere.”

  Samantha came over to the board and stood next to me. “Good idea,” she agreed, and placed a hand on my shoulder. I stiffened a bit at the awareness of her hand, of her proximity, that new awareness that I’d discovered earlier kicking back in. Perhaps Samantha had forgotten about all the stuff with me and Kerry. Or perhaps she hadn’t but was being what she was, a good team captain, and didn’t want to affect my performance. Of course, the possibility existed that she just didn’t care, but I didn’t hold out too much hope for that. I had the past events of the afternoon for proof on that one.

  Samantha and I scanned the boards together.

  “Find anything likely?” she asked, and I shook my head in the negative.

  “Hey, Blade, Razor! Kitt sent me to get you guys!” Samantha and I both turned our heads, and she dropped her hand.

  Standing in the intersection of one of the many hallways, Betta stood in swimsuit and gym pants, waving at us.

  “Great,” Samantha said, all business as she and I walked over.

  “Glad to see you, Betta,” I told her with a smile. “I sorta half thought we’d never Þ nd our way.”

  Betta moved excitedly, half walking, half running, ahead. “Yeah, Kitt told Coach you two would be late…the locker’s this way.” She pointed to the door, then opened it, and we all walked through.

  White tile, tons of lockers, bathroom in the back, pool door to the front, diagonally opposite of where we came in. An aisle led to the pool door, with a long horizontal half mirror on it. Pretty standard locker room, except that it was empty.

  “Okay, everyone’s at the pool, Coach is doing the lineup for the heats, and I don’t know what he’s putting me in,” Betta chattered, while taking her gym pants and sneakers off by the locker she had claimed.

  In record time, she clanged the locker shut and stood expectantly, ready to hit the water.

  • 167 •

  JD GLASS

  “We’ll be out in a few,” Samantha told her. “Go ahead if you want.”


  Betta trotted off to the door and grabbed the handle, then stopped.

  “You sure? You need help getting to the pool?”

  “We’ll get there just Þ ne, I promise.” Samantha smiled. “Go ahead,”

  “Um, okay, yeah. Thanks, Blade! See ya in the water!” Betta ß ashed her a sunny smile and was off. The door whooshed shut behind her.

  I found an empty locker not far from the mirror and the door and put my coat in it, then took my gym bag over to the “bathroom” area to change in one of the many stalls. No way was I going to change in front of Samantha and have her think I was looking at her the wrong way or something like that. Not that I would have, I never did, it’s just not a me thing to do; but I was once told it’s not enough to be good, you have to look good, too. I Þ gured I might as well put that saying into action.

  I pulled my suit, cap, and goggles out of my bag and chucked off my boots, stripping quickly.

  “Dude! What are you doing?” Samantha’s voice ß oated over the door from the main room.

  “The usual, you know? Taking care of business, talking to the monkeys!” I called back, stepping into my suit. “They all want to come and party after the meet—whattaya say?”

  I heard Samantha laugh as I rolled my suit up and pulled the straps over my shoulders. I checked the Þ t around my butt—all the important stuff was covered.

  “Tell ’em,” Samantha called back, “tell ’em I said, ‘shit, yeah,’ but they gotta get their own ride!”

  “I’ll pass it on,” I called back. I folded my clothes neatly and rolled my socks into my boots, then put it all into my bag. I stepped out of the bathroom, walked back to my locker, and put my stuff away.

  Samantha was standing by the mirror, checking her swimsuit out, making sure everything was where it had to be. I stood next to her and did the same, adjusting the shoulders.

  “You know,” Samantha spoke quietly, “you and I have a lot more in common than you think.”