Carter Finally Gets It

by Brent Crawford

  At our table in the cafeteria, EJ starts to take some heat.

  A few of my boys have gone out with the Caboose over the years, and her reputation is not stellar. They call her the “Village Bike” because, as J-Low puts it, “Every boy in Merrian has had a ride on her!”

  That’s funny, but uncool at the same time. I want to tell them to knock it off and that she’s really nice. That EJ’s never had a girlfriend before, he may never get another one, and to let him enjoy this moment. But I don’t.

  Andre, who claims to have had sex with her in seventh grade, walks up, slaps EJ’s neck, and asks, “How’s your ho, pimp?”

  Bag chimes in with, “What do you call the car that comes behind the caboose? The EEEJAY!” The Caboose dumped Bag back in October, but he still dogs EJ for dating her.

  He laughs it off, but I can tell he’s pissed. He doesn’t stop seeing her, though. They go bowling and to the movies and stuff. EJ’s mom is terrified because he’s not so easily controlled now that he has a girlfriend. My mom’s got nothing to worry about, because every girl still thinks I’m a first-class A-hole.

  EJ is going to have sex before I do. I just know it. He’s smart to go after a slutty girl. They’ll let you practice your moves on them and figure out what the different condoms are for. I can see now that it’s the only way to go. Abby’s a nice girl, and if you’re into holding hands and talking your face off, she’s your gal. But if you’re trying to get somewhere, you’ve got to go after a hoochie. Nutt’s brother Bart tried to sell me a fake ID for fifty bucks and told me to spend more time at bars. He says that tramps hang out in bars, and they smoke cigarettes and have tattoos on their lower backs.

  He claims he can spot a twenty-three-year-old ho-bag from a mile away. But at our age a girl hasn’t quite made up her mind whether or not to be a skank, or the right guy hasn’t come along and screwed her up. I don’t have fifty dollars, so I need to focus on the high school parties and get a drunk chick, so I can be that guy who screws them up and over.

  Speaking of screwing up girls, I think I just caught Abby staring at me. She tried to cover it up by waving at the goth girl standing behind me, but I look back at the chick and she obviously has no idea who Abby is. . . . Busted!

  31. Too Much Info

  It’s Friday night, and I’m renting a movie by myself. It’s pretty lame, but EJ’s playing putt-putt with the Caboose, so he wins the award for Most Lame tonight. I tried to talk the boys into a bros before hos night, but nobody would go for it. Bag’s out with some chick from St. Mary’s Academy. It’s a private religious school for girls. He says she wears a plaid skirt and she’s a slut. Nutt and Doc are dating junior high girls. I would have made fun of them when I was in eighth grade, but I realize now how tough it is to be a freshman and to compete for chicks with older dudes who drive cars. I have a nice bike, but the girls don’t seem to care about axle pegs anymore.

  I show up at Blockbuster with five bucks and some frozen snot on my face from riding in the cold. We have a Blockbuster right next to my house, but I’m not allowed to rent movies there because I’ve lost a number of items over the years. My parents can’t even rent there anymore; the store hates me that much. I pick up The Rock’s movie from the new releases and think back to the first time I didn’t see it. How the movie was better when I was making out with Abby than it was when I got to watch it. It’s an action movie with some laughs, but to me it’s a bitter, romantic tragedy (two thumbs way down!), so I put it back.

  A cold wind cuts through the Blockbuster. A chill goes down my spine as Andre and Abby walk through the door. This is not what I need, so I hit the deck and crawl past the foreign films. Did Abby not recognize my bike out front? Why are they here? She doesn’t live anywhere near here. I peek over the classics and see Andre wearing his new letterman’s jacket, picking up The Rock’s movie. No way, Abby, that’s our movie! Wait a minute . . . that’s not Abby. It’s some girl in a puffy vest kind of like Abby’s, but she isn’t as pretty. Did they break up and nobody told me?

  I’m not really hiding anymore. I’m very perplexed, like a dog who’s heard a strange noise. Andre looks over to see who’s staring at him, and now I’m like a dog who’s been caught digging in the trash. Not sure what I’ve done wrong, but I’m definitely guilty of something.

  “What’re you doin’ here, Carter?” Andre seethes and nods his head for me to go with him toward the candy aisle.

  I don’t move. I just say, “Good to see you too, ’Dre.”

  “You spyin’ on me?” he asks, and nods again toward the candy.

  “I may be at Blockbuster by myself on a Friday night, but I got better things to worry about than what you’re up to . . . and who you’re with,” I reply pointedly.

  He bites his lip and nods for me to follow him again.

  “Somethin’ wrong with your neck?” I ask.

  He shakes his head in disgust and asks, “You gonna run and tell Abby?”

  I shrug and ask, “What should I tell her?”

  He squirms and barks, “Screw you, Carter! If you tell her, you’re a punk bitch.”

  I just stare at him for a second. The nerve of this jack-hole! He set me up, ratted me out, and stole my girl. Eye for an eye ring any bells, big fella?

  “The only person you’re gonna hurt is Abby,” he snaps.

  I fire back, “Don’t you bring her into this!”

  “Ya know what?” he adds. “I couldn’t care less, dog. You lied about going down her pants anyhow. Bitch won’t put out for nothin’.”

  “Hey! First off, don’t call Abby a bitch. And second, I went up the skirt. Not down the pants. If you’re strikin’ out, that’s your deal.”

  “Whatever, dude, she’s a prude and I’m done with her,” he says as he walks back to his slut.

  Well, this sucks. I don’t want this info. It will only hurt Abby, and that won’t help me. She’s not going to come running back just because Andre’s a jerk. It’ll just make her hate guys—and therefore me—more. I walk out of the store with my head down, jump on my bike, and pedal off without a movie or a friend in the world. Life sucks and I’m freezing.

  32. Riffraff

  A party at Gray Goose Lake is in the works for tonight. And though I’d rather do anything in the world than go to another high school party, I’m going because I heard there’ll be girls from Hooker High. And maybe I can meet a Hooker who doesn’t know what a jerk I am.

  Gray Goose Lake is private. They have a guard out front to keep the riffraff out. I’ve never been, but I hear they have diving boards and a rope swing on their huge party dock. Apparently the guard had a heart attack on Monday, so no one will be keeping an eye on the riffraff this weekend . . . so here we come!

  On my ride over to Hormone’s house I stop at QuickTrip for a two-liter of Mountain Dew and some condoms (not to be used together). The condoms are for positive thinking, and the Dew is the key ingredient in my plan to look cool and not have to drink beer. I dug two Bud Light bottles out of the recycling. I’ll take my backpack to the party and fill the empty bottles with Mountain Dew. It’ll look like I’m enjoying an adult beverage, but I’ll just be “doin’ the Dew”!

  The sardine ride over to Gray Goose Lake is miserable, but as we drive past the empty guardhouse I see why they keep this place locked up. The houses are old and huge.

  They have long driveways and some of their garages are the size of my house. The main clubhouse looks like a jeweled mansion that’s been buttoned down for the winter, but I can imagine how awesome it would be all decked out for a Fourth of July party. It would be sooo sweet if we were rolling in here in the summertime, with our trunks on, getting ready to fly off the rope swing and splash down into the cool lake water. I can almost smell the sunscreen and the hot dogs on the grill. I picture a rich girl from Hooker High strutting up to me with a bottle of Coppertone, asking me to do her back. And when I try to rub it around her bikini strap, I accidentally pop the lock open and her boobs fall out. She slowly tu
rns around and giggles. “That always happens . . .”

  “Carter, get out of my car!” Hormone yells because I’m all alone in the CRX, staring at the lake.

  I snap out of my dream and yell, “Yeah, give me a sec . . . I’ve got a cramp!”

  “Well, lock it when you get out, and don’t forget your backpack,” he instructs.

  Man, I’ve got to stop sporting wood in the CRX, or I’m going to give off the wrong impression. I climb out and look around at the beautiful lake. The party deck, the rolling hills, and the frozen trees look like something out of a movie. The old wooden piers seem to be quivering in the frigid water. There’s a frozen dock in the middle of the lake that’s dying for me to crash through the ice and swim out to it. I didn’t know we had cool things like this in Merrian. I hope that security guard has another heart attack in July so we can come back.

  I stash my backpack in the woods and strut into the party with my first beer/Dew. I’m on a mission to meet a Hooker. How jealous will the girls from my school be when they see me making out with my Hooker? I give my fives and punches to the boys and try not to look as uncomfortable as I feel when Abby and Andre walk up like freshmen royalty. I want to burst that bubble of lies, but I can’t do it to Abby. I’ll just drown my sorrows in Mountain Dew. Brock and Lynn roll in with a bunch of Brock’s friends. EJ and Sarah Ruiz stroll out of the bushes, and EJ looks kind of different. He looks taller, maybe? Or he got a decent haircut . . . or he’s had SEX! He did! Son of a . . .

  “You got something you wanna tell me?” I ask him when he finally comes over to the boys.

  “What?” He smiles goofily.

  “You did it, didn’t you?” I ask.

  He’s not even shocked that I noticed. “Maybe,” he replies.

  “You don’t know if you did it? I think that’s something you should be aware of if it happened,” I say.

  Bag jumps in with, “She might not know, but you should.”

  He smiles and confidently says, “Well, let’s just say, if this party was for virgins . . . I’d have to leave.”

  I’m green with envy, but kind of proud too. If EJ can do it, anybody can! I scan the party for the lucky girl who’s going to steal my virginity. Where are those Hookers?! Hopefully she’s hot, but at this point I’ll take a straggler.

  “Where’d you get the beer?” EJ asks.

  “Uh, my dad,” I reply while still shopping for a chick.

  “He just gave it to you?” he asks.

  “No, I took it,” I say. I couldn’t tell him my dad gave it to me, because he’d tell his mom by accident and my folks would get a call. And I’ll wind up in a class for alcoholics

  every Saturday for drinking Mountain Dew.

  “Give me one?” he asks.

  “No way, dude, I only have the one,” I answer.

  “Let me have a drink, then,” he responds.

  “Uh, naw, I-I-I really can’t spare any beer tonight,” I say, a little panicky.

  “Since when do you like beer? And since when are you a selfish little—” he starts to say.

  “Since when are you getting laid, man?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  “You’re jealous, huh?” He laughs.

  Well, look who’s cocky all the sudden? EJ gets lucky and cocky in the same breath.

  “All right, dude, why don’t you slam the rest of my beer, stud,” I say as I offer up the bottle.

  He tips it up and fills his mouth. “Uhhhh!” he squeals, and spits the green fluid out. That’s the worst—when you expect one thing and get a totally different taste! His face is awesome as he asks, “What is that? Acid Kool-Aid?”

  I push him away from the boys and whisper, “Shhh! It’s Mountain Dew.”

  “What’re you, ten years old?” he asks.

  “No, ass-wipe, I’m fourteen! I’m not old enough to drink beer, and I hate the junk, so I’m drinkin’ Mountain Dew in a beer bottle so I can look cool. You got a problem with that? Go hang with your stupid girlfriend!” I mutter.

  “Chill, Carter, I’m just messin’ with you,” he says. “I don’t want to hang out with her anymore. She won’t shut up, and she talks about the dumbest stuff. I think I’m gonna dump her.”

  “What? Shut up, dude,” I say.

  “Naw, man, since I got with Sarah I’ve been getting mad looks from other chicks,” he replies.

  “Dude, the odds of you trickin’ another girl into letting you do it to her are really slim. Don’t throw that fish back into the lake. I think you should marry her,” I reply.

  “No way, I’m gonna do it with her one more time, but then I’m droppin’ her,” EJ says.

  “Damn, you’re a hard-ass. Got what you wanted and that’s it, huh, cowboy?” I ask.

  “I guess,” he replies.

  My sister’s right: all boys are jerks. I never realized it before, but if EJ and I are jerks . . . we all are.

  “So how was the Caboose?” I inquire. “Were you scared?”

  “No, it’s awesome, man. We just did it in the woods.” He laughs and gives me five.

  “In the snow?” I ask.

  He smiles and nods.

  I pester on. “Which kind of rubber did you use?”

  “Oh, uh, I didn’t use one,” he replies.

  “WHAT?” I ask. “Are you serious? What shows are you watching, dude? You’re gonna get a disease for sure, and that’s if you’re lucky. You just made a baby! You’ll be a dumb-ass kid with a kid. I’d rather be called Slappy or Sloth than Uncle Carter! But the worst nickname for a freshman in high school is the one you got comin’ . . . DAD! What were you thinkin’?!”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “She said it was cool, so I didn’t use one.”

  “She did?” I gasp. Not only is Sarah Ruiz dumb in math, she’s a tard in the bedroom/bushes as well.

  “Dude, take one of these,” I say, as I hand over one of my condoms. If I use one of them, it’ll be a miracle. But three? Let’s get real.

  EJ’s chick walks up with a girl I don’t know. EJ doesn’t even say hello. Man, the Caboose seemed kind of whatever about him before, but now that he’s blowing her off for real, she’s all over him. This is all so easy to understand when it’s happening to other people.

  She just stares at us for a minute. All I can think about is the fact that she and EJ were just doing it in the woods, so I try not to look her in the eye. Her friend is pretty cute. The Caboose finally says, “I failed that quiz in Rumpford’s class yesterday,” to me.

  “Ruddy Gill was absent, huh?” I ask my shoes. “Only so many trips you can make to the pencil sharpener.”

  “Shut up, CARTER!” She laughs way too loud so EJ will pay attention to her.

  She grabs his hand and says something else . . . I have no idea what . . . I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that she’s been naked in front of EJ! How many times have I been talking to someone, like a teacher or somebody, who has just had sex?! People everywhere, all over the world, are doing it without me.

  “Do you know my cousin Amy?” the Caboose asks me. “She goes to Saint Mary’s Academy.”

  Oh my, that’s even better than a Hooker slut. “I-i-is that a private, religious school?” I ask.

  “It sure is,” Amy replies.

  “D-d-do you wear a u-u-uniform?” I stammer.

  “Yes.” She laughs. “I have to wear the knee-high stockings and everything.”

  The Caboose laughs too, as my eyes roll back into my skull. This is the girl! She’ll wear the skirt and the stockings and nothing else. Sarah gives it up, so her cousin must too; sluts hang out together. If a girl is a prude, the slutty girls cast her off. They move in packs. They roam the bars, arcades, and swimming pools for young studs like me to satisfy them. And I will, just as soon as I come up with a question or two.

  “Is, uh . . . ?” I ask. “Um, are you . . . uhhh?” Oh man, I got nothing. EJ looks at me and crosses his arms. He knows what I’m doing, and he doesn’t help at all. “Uhh . . . Am
y? D-d-do you know what time it is?”

  “It’s nine o’clock, dude.” EJ laughs. “Is your watch broken?”

  I use all of my strength not to punch him in his face as I look down at my watch and seethe. “Maybe it will be . . . after I beat you to death with it.”

  “Ohh, I’d like to see you try that, bitch,” he says. “Maybe I’ll stick that watch up your ass.”

  I glance over at Amy. She makes a disgusted face at the thought of my Timex taking a licking and continuing to tick . . . in my butt. “Y-you know, I do know what time it is, E . . . It’s time for your beat down!” I say as I slap his face, pretty hard. He slaps me back harder because he’s super quick. I point my finger in his face and whisper, “Knock it off!” and wait for him to let his guard down before I slap him again: WHACK! And WHACK! He tags me back. Dang it!

  “What’s your problem, dude?” I ask.

  “Why you stealin’ my pickup line?” he replies.

  “‘What time is it?’ is your pickup line exclusively?”

  “Maybe!”

  The Caboose cocks her head.

  “What the hell do you need a line for anyway? You were just doinkin’ her in the woods!” I say, and watch the Caboose’s jaw drop.

  EJ’s eyes get really big as she and her cousin stomp off.

  “Dude?!” EJ barks.

  I shrug my shoulders and ask, “What? You said you were dumpin’ her.”

  He whisper/yells, “After we did it one more time, jackass!” and runs after her.

  “Sorry,” I say, and duck into the woods for a Mountain Dew refill. So that could have gone better. I’ve got to figure out a pickup line that I can use in tight spots like that. Something more creative than, “What time is it?”