Pike replied with an English Obi-Wan Kenobi accent: “Only a master of evil, Darth.”
Then the two swung their giant power tools at each other. The blades clashed with a tremendous screech of grinding metal. Almost immediately, Pike’s chainsaw was deflected onto the couch, ripping into the cushion and almost killing Olaf who dove out of the way just in time.
With his weird Norwegian accent, and over the din of the chainsaw still chewing into the couch, Olaf screamed, “What the fuck, Rasshøl?!”
Back in the rec room, Walker and Patience still hadn’t moved off the couch through the entire bulk of Playlist #44, which was now blasting that M.I.A. song from Slumdog Millionaire. Walker had an endless supply of open-ended questions, from Patience’s possible college major (“Maybe English Lit”) to whether a private high school education was worth the cost (“Yes”). The conversation was light and superficial, and if this were a talk show, Walker would have made Patience’s publicist very happy.
But it wasn’t a talk show, and Patience was growing restless. “I’m going to France for the summer,” she threw out there. “I’m leaving on Tuesday.”
She leaned in once more with a smile, a last ditch effort at getting Walker to make a move.
But she might as well have been speaking French because Walker merely replied, “Wow, that sounds amazing. I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”
Walker was giving her nothing so Patience simply gave up.
Great, she thought. I’m stuck with the one gay guy in the whole party. She leaned back, disappointed.
Without really thinking about it, Sarah and Noah had gone into the baby’s room as Dylan had suggested, and now they were lying down on a baby blanket on the floor next to the crib. But the mood was ruined, and they were just leaning on their elbows facing each other. Any hope of reviving the romance was a long-shot, Noah estimated.
“So now what?” Sarah asked.
Noah kissed her. “We can still do other things,” he said, full of innuendo.
And to Noah’s surprise, that’s exactly what Sarah wanted to hear. She smiled and started taking off her pants.
Noah was confused. As her jeans were midway down her legs, Noah interrupted. “Uh, no. That’s not what I meant.”
Sarah immediately got the message. “Oh, so your condom breaks so now I have to service you?”
Noah looked at her impishly, like, Pretty much.
Sarah was not amused.
The power tools now off, Pike tried fruitlessly to stuff the foam back into the destroyed cushion, but the couch was nearly cut in two. The weed was spent and the others looked around for something else to amuse their addled brains. Suzanne found a small plastic speaker and started fiddling with it. Suddenly, a voice came through the speaker.
It was Sarah. “Why can’t you ever go down on me? Did it ever occur to you that I like to get oral sex, too?”
The stoners all stopped in their tracks and looked at each other.
“Oh, my God,” Suzanne said, stunned. She giggled uncontrollably and covered her mouth with her hand. Pike grabbed what was clearly a baby monitor from her and turned up the volume.
Noah spoke. “All right, all right. I’ll do it.”
The five stoners huddled together on the caved-in couch to listen to the drama unfold, like an old-time radio show.
“If it’s too disgusting for you,” Sarah yelled at Noah, “don’t do me any favors. Like having your dick in my mouth is a slice of heaven.”
Noah knew there was only one way out of this: south.
“Come here,” he said lovingly. He took Sarah into his arms and started kissing her. She held out for a moment to make her point, then finally kissed him back.
Neither of them noticed the red light on the baby monitor sitting on the dresser. Noah kissed Sarah’s neck to warm her up, then moved down her torso in the predictable journey to the promised land.
Meanwhile, back on the couch, Patience’s body language had completely changed. Any idiot could see she was bored, but Walker plowed on. “So, are you on Facebook?”
Just then, Pike burst into the room holding the baby monitor over his head like a trophy. The other stoners followed close behind, still laughing their asses off. Apparently, they had collectively decided this was simply too good to keep to themselves. Over the monitor, Sarah was moaning, “That’s it. Right there, babe. Lick my kitty.” And as her moans of ecstasy grew louder, the room went silent and everyone gathered around to listen.
In the baby’s room, Noah was doing a pretty solid job getting Sarah off.
“Yes! God, yes! Yes! Lick my kitty!”
The “kitty” thing was nothing new to Noah. Every girl must call her vagina something, he thought the first time he heard Sarah say it. By now, it didn’t even occur to him that it sounded kind of funny. But to the forty-odd people in the rec room downstairs, listening to the proverbial blow by blow, it was downright hilarious.
“Lick my kitty! Lick my kitty!” Sarah screamed as she got closer and closer.
The whole rec room was now chanting: “Lick her kitty! Lick her kitty!”
Pike, who obviously had been heavily into Star Wars before taking up pot, quoted that guy in the attack squadron in the final battle against the Death Star: “Stay on target.”
More moans, louder, faster.
Suzanne gave her expert opinion, “She’s almost there…”
“Stay on target,” Pike repeated.
“Lick my kitty!”
“Almost…”
“Stay on target…”
Sarah screamed, “Yes! Yes! Yes!!!”
A moment of silence, then the rec room erupted with applause.
Marco, ever the one to recognize a money-making opportunity, checked his stopwatch. “Okay, who had five oh two?” A football player raised his hand and Marco paid him the impromptu pool money.
Sarah and Noah got dressed and left the baby’s room. Sarah was in a good mood now and Noah felt genuinely happy to have brought so much pleasure to her. As they walked along the upstairs hallway, some people chuckled at them. One random dude with a goatee made claws at Sarah and meowed.
Sarah looked at Noah a little confused, but also a tiny bit nervous. The two headed downstairs to the first floor where they passed other people who also meowed at her. Sarah’s fears were swelling. “What’s going on here?”
“I have no idea,” Noah replied.
They headed down the next staircase to the basement. As they made it halfway, the room erupted in applause. Sarah and Noah still had no idea what was going on, until Marco shouted, “Lick my kitty! Lick my kitty!” He showed them the baby monitor and Sarah turned crimson.
“Oh, my God,” she eked out.
Sarah turned around and ran back upstairs. Noah raced after her.
It was still pretty warm out and Noah and Sarah argued out on the front lawn as the party was breaking up. “So it’s my fault that the baby monitor was on?” Noah asked defensively. “How was I supposed to know?”
“If you had a stupid back-up condom none of this would have happened!”
Noah was sick of her stupid logic. “Who cares anyway? In ten days you’re never going to see any of these people again!”
Sarah stared right into his eyes. “You mean like you?”
Oops.
Noah felt like he’d been outmaneuvered and quickly backtracked. “No, that’s not what I meant.” He looked down at the ground, barely able to get out, “But we should be realistic.”
Sarah started to tear up.
Noah explained, “You’re going to Madison. I’ll be halfway across the country.”
“They don’t have Spring Break at Brown?” Sarah asked accusingly.
“They do, it’s just…” Noah didn’t know if he should go there, but if they couldn’t be honest with each other, then what’s the point? “We fight all the time…”
A tear streamed down her cheek. “If you want to break up with me, just say so.”
But Noah
didn’t say anything, which was actually worse. She had her answer. The silence was interrupted by a car honking for Sarah.
“Fine. Whatever.” She turned to leave.
Noah felt like an asshole. “Wait. Sarah—”
But it was too late. Sarah ran over to her friend’s waiting car and got in.
Noah watched them drive off, then trudged over to the driveway where Pike and Dylan were waiting for Walker to say goodbye to Patience.
“It was really great talking to you tonight,” Walker said, content in his mind that he had flawlessly executed step one of a ninety-three-part plan.
“Yeah, me, too,” Patience responded politely.
Walker added, “Have fun in France,” proving to her what a good listener he was.
“Thanks.” She shifted uncomfortably.
“So… I’ll email you,” Walker confirmed. He leaned in to hug her at the same time she extended a hand to shake in a classic-sitcom awkward moment. Walker quickly adjusted and shook her hand.
And then she was gone.
Walker joined the other three guys.
“Pathetic,” Dylan launched into him. “Fucking pathetic.”
Walker still didn’t get it. “What?”
Noah was in no mood to watch Dylan pick on Walker. “Give him a break.”
Dylan looked at Noah like, What’s your problem?
Pike changed the subject. “Anyone hungry? I’m starving.”
CHAPTER SIX
THE STEAK AND Egg Kitchen was a throw-back to a simpler time, when grease was one of the four major food groups, and if you got sick from eating a $4.99 T-bone then that was your problem, not theirs. The simple brick building in the West Hartford Center housed some of the surliest waitresses and crunchiest pancakes in town. But the Steak and Egg Kitchen was also the only place in town that was open twenty-four hours.
Dylan and Pike were busy chewing out Walker while Noah moped over his scrambled eggs. “The girl goes to Choate, so you know she’s gotta be all coked up,” Dylan theorized.
“True dat,” Pike affirmed.
Walker shook his head. “I don’t think she was—”
But Dylan didn’t let him finish. “And she’s going to France, home of the dirty whore. Leaving on Tuesday, mind you, so whatever happens is totally guilt-free.”
Walker was starting to see the picture they were painting of sweet Patience.
“Don’t forget Wellesley,” Pike added with a mouthful of cube steak, “so chances are she’s into chicks as well.”
Walker’s mind raced with the possibilities that entailed.
Dylan took Walker by the shoulder. “She didn’t know anybody at the party.” Walker thought back on the evening. Dylan continued, “Admit it, this girl was giving you the green light to use and abuse her like the cheap slut that she is.”
Without looking up, Pike gave an amen, “He ain’t lyin’.” He started demolishing the stack of pancakes on the side plate next to his cube steak.
Walker went over it in his mind and after weighing all the possibilities, he suddenly realized that they were absolutely right. He sunk into his seat. “Fuck.”
Dylan laughed. “Did you at least get her info?”
“I got her email,” Walker remembered hopefully, brightening his mood like maybe all wasn’t lost. “I told her when she gets back I would make her a lasagna.”
Pike and Dylan looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.
Walker didn’t get the joke. “What?” he asked.
But Dylan just rubbed his hair, like you would do to a little kid who just said something cute. “Eat your pancakes.”
Walker was now officially depressed.
“And you,” Dylan turned to Noah. “Will you stop crying? You did what you had to do.”
“I don’t know,” Noah tried to convince himself. “We didn’t officially break up or anything.”
Not known for his tact, Pike blurted out, “I bet she delists you on Facebook.”
Noah knew he was right. It was over.
Dylan tried to cheer him up. “You’re eighteen. What were you going to do, get married? This isn’t West Virginia.”
“I know. But still.” Noah looked up. “We love each other.”
“And you’ve been fighting for months,” Dylan reminded him. “I’m just looking out for you, man. Once you’ve been with other girls—”
Noah leapt on that statement. “What does that matter? Sarah and I have had sex almost ninety times.” No one thought it was weird that Noah had apparently been counting.
“Variety,” Pike explained, his mouth full of pancakes.
“Exactly,” Dylan seconded. “Other girls will give you perspective.”
Walker piped up, taking Noah’s side in this debate. “Don’t listen to them. I’d love to be with a girl like Sarah.”
“You’d love to be with a girl who’s alive,” Dylan shot back.
“And has two legs,” Pike added.
Dylan considered. “I don’t think that matters to Walker.” He turned to him thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t nail a hot chick with one leg?”
Walker gave them both a ha ha fake smile, but Dylan wasn’t done giving him shit. “I mean, after you make her a lasagna, of course.”
“Shut up,” Walker said. He threw a tub of grape jelly at Dylan and the four of them broke out laughing.
It was small moments like this—the four best friends eating gristle at two a.m., playfully ribbing each other, and sharing a laugh—that they’d remember forever. And for Dylan, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
Before crashing for the night, Noah checked Sarah’s Facebook profile. Under “News Feed” it said, “Sarah is now single,” complete with the broken heart icon. Dejected, Noah clicked off his iPhone and just sat there, staring into the darkness.
Walker was on Facebook as well, but Walker was masturbating to the profile picture of Patience, the girl from the party.
When Pike got home and did his bedtime e-ritual, he opened a message from Marco with the subject, “Couch,” and his eyes went wide.
After dropping off the guys, Dylan pulled the Cube into his driveway and parked next to a pick-up truck emblazoned with “Glasco Paving.” Inside, Dylan found his dad asleep on the couch with ESPN on. Dylan turned off the TV and covered his dad with a blanket before heading into his bedroom.
Dylan didn’t hate his dad. He had just learned to live without him. But that didn’t mean his dad knew how to live without Dylan. The poor bastard didn’t know how to cook. Hell, he barely knew how to use the DVR. Dylan wondered what his dad was going to do when Dylan left.
Dylan brushed his teeth and changed for bed. But for some reason he wasn’t tired. He was deep in thought. Then, an idea struck him. He pulled out his phone and started a text message.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BY FIFTH PERIOD Monday, Dylan was in the cafeteria with his friends, still busy texting. The others didn’t seem to care what Dylan was up to—they were focused on their pepperoni pizzas and discussing plans for Beach Weekend.
“So I emailed Patience,” Walker began. “She didn’t write back.”
Noah broke the news, “Dude, that ship has sailed.”
“Why don’t you just fuck Natalie?” Pike suggested, just trying to be helpful.
“Natalie’s my cousin,” Walker replied, with the asshole left implied.
Pike was undeterred. “Or that weird girl.” Sure enough, a weird-looking girl sat alone eating edamame. She had a nice body, and a cute face under her heavy makeup and eyeliner, but she always sat by herself and dressed in flannel as if Nirvana were still awesome.
Still, even for Walker it was a pass. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
Dylan was still furiously texting when Walker moved on to a moment of self-reflection. “I think I just need to accept that high school is over and I’ll make a fresh start next year in college.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Noah humored him.
Pike was s
till brainstorming. “Hey, Suzanne will sleep with you if you buy her some weed.”
Walker perked up, considering. “Is she going to Marco’s for Beach Weekend?”
But before Pike could figure out how to make that happen, Dylan finally finished on the phone and held it up triumphantly. “Cancel your Brazilian waxes, gentlemen. Welcome to Beach Weekend 2.0.”
That got their attention. Even if they had no idea what he was talking about, it sounded promising.
Dylan continued, “We’re not going to Marco’s. We’re going into the city.”
“Hartford?” Walker inquired.
“New York, dumbass.” Dylan started going over the texts. “My friend Pete just told me about a massive party in the city Friday night.”
Pike racked his brain. “Is he that guy from the ski trip? The one with three balls?”
“Yeah,” Dylan replied.
Noah looked concerned. “But what about Marco’s?”
“Fuck Marco’s,” Dylan countered. “This is Stark Raving Mad 2012. It’s in an abandoned warehouse. There’s going to be close to a thousand people there.”
Pike’s eyes lit up. “Perfect. I can pick up some weed in the city.”
“You don’t have enough weed?” Walker wondered aloud.
“Marco says I owe him twelve hundred bucks for that piece of shit couch.”
“That’s fucking bullshit,” Walker said, trying to sound supportive.
“I know,” Pike lamented. “But he said I could pay him back in weed.”
Noah was still stuck on the basic premise. “Guys, we can’t miss the last big party of high school.”
“High school is over, my man,” Dylan proclaimed, then added, “Ask your doctor what not being a pussy can do for you.” Dylan was very pleased with himself for coming up with that last part.
But Noah wasn’t sure.
Dylan tried to ice the cake. “We’re talking about New York City. No ID required. Topless bars. Bottomless drinks. And the loosest sluts on the Strip.” Dylan was on fire with catchy sayings.
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