253.
It’s the comedown that’s the problem.
It’s the lying awake in bed exhausted but unable to sleep that’s the problem.
It’s the waking up the next day so depressed you want to kill yourself that’s the problem.
It’s the feeling so haggard that you don’t get any homework done all weekend that’s the problem.
It’s the giving up Sunday night around midnight and crying yourself to sleep thinking about Victoria.
That’s the problem.
254.
Fortunately, none of the popular kids have assignments due Monday. This is a good thing, because Adam gets literally nothing done by Monday morning—
(well, he and Janie work through a box of condoms, but they don’t give grades for that)
(and if they did give grades for sex, Adam figures he’d still be only like a C, C-plus at best)
(also, he feels like he’s been hit by a moving truck)
(also, he forgot to do his economics homework. And today of all days, Mr. Soulyuk decides to check it)
Adam doesn’t even try to hide it. Soulyuk screws up his face. Gives Adam the old disappointed-teacher look—
(maybe you know it)
—“Adam Higgs,” he says. “This is a first.”
“Sorry, sir,” Adam says. “I had a busy weekend.”
“No kidding,” Soulyuk says. “You look like a zombie.”
Laughter from some of the kids who stay connected, who know just why Adam looks like a zombie. Adam is too tired to care.
“We all need a mulligan now and then,” Soulyuk says. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
“No, sir,” Adam says. “I won’t.”
255.
Victoria’s still dodging Adam’s calls. She won’t answer his texts. And Facebook? Forget it.
He finds her in the hall one day. Creeps her locker until she comes around. She’s got that big lug with her, the football player—
(Chad)
—and he’s hanging around just a little too close, saying something about a party at Tyler’s. Adam breaks in. “Can we talk?”
Victoria shakes her head. Looks away. “I can’t do this right now, Adam.”
“I’m sorry,” Adam tells her. “You were right about everything. Just give me another shot and I’ll do better. I promise.”
Victoria still can’t meet his eye. “I’m sorry, Adam,” she says. “I just can’t.”
“You can,” Adam says. “You have to. I—”
Chad steps up. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, man,” he says. “Why don’t you just leave her alone?”
Adam looks at Victoria. She’s still looking as far away from Adam as possible. She’s trying not to cry. “I’m so sorry,” Adam tells her.
Chad puts his hand out. Blocks Adam’s chest. “Just back off, man.”
Adam looks at Chad. At Chad’s meaty, football-player hand. He’s not getting through Chad. He knows this. Anyway, people are starting to watch. Starting to stare.
Fighting is not cool.
“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Adam says.
Chad shrugs. Puts his arm around Victoria. “Whatever you say.”
256.
No Victoria.
It’s over.
Finished.
Done.
So . . .
Adam sticks with Janie.
Hey, she’s a goddess. And she’s making his rep. Guys see Janie on Adam’s arm as he walks through the hall and they know he’s legit.
Besides, the sex is amazing—
(when the pills are involved)
—and Adam’s getting better all the time.
(Although it’s not like he and Janie have much to talk about when they’re not as high as airplanes. They pretty much get high and have sex and watch TV and eat pizza, and sometimes Janie talks about going camping with Leanne and what kind of car her parents are going to buy next, and even though she’s really nice and really hot and smart and everything, Adam
just
doesn’t
care.)
257.
The thing is, Janie’s not dumb.
(We’ve established this.)
She figures out pretty quickly that Adam’s going through the motions. I mean, she’s thinking relationship. He’s thinking—
(what is he thinking?)
(sex?)
(drugs?)
(rock-star status?)
Whatever he’s thinking, it’s sure not boyfriend/girlfriend, lovey-dovey thoughts. He’s thinking business. He’s thinking winning. He’s thinking takeover.
And Janie knows this. She knows when he blows her off Monday through Thursday nights to do homework.
(“It’s my job, Janie.”)
She knows when he won’t text back to her smiley faces.
(“I just got distracted.”)
She knows when it takes the pills to kick in before he’ll even look at her.
(“Stuff on my mind.”)
And when he brings Sara Bryant’s geography project to the hotel room Janie rents them for the long weekend, she knows for damn certain.
(This is the big fight. This is the one where Janie’s dressed up for dinner out somewhere fancy downtown, dress, heels, the rest of it, and Adam’s hungover as fuck, sitting at the hotel room desk in his underwear, grinding out five mediocre pages on coal mining. This is the one where Janie gets mad.
“All you do is homework, Adam,” she says. “Seriously, what’s up with you? I got us this hotel room so we could do something special and you—”
“I just have to get this finished,” he tells her. “It’s due Tuesday and Sara will freak if I don’t get it done.”
“What do you care?” Janie says. “Why are you still doing this homework stuff, anyway?”
Adam shrugs. “Homework got me here,” he tells her. “I can’t give it up now.”
“Sure you can,” Janie says. “Just tell them you’re not going to do it.” She looks at him. “Or are you afraid you’ll lose all your friends if they don’t need you to do their bitch work anymore?”
Adam looks up from Sara’s paper for the first time. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says.
“I’m totally right, aren’t I?” Janie says. “You’re so obsessed with being a big shot that you can’t even enjoy the good things in your life.”
“Bullshit,” Adam says.
“No, you’re bullshit,” Janie says. “Popularity is bullshit. You have to stop caring about what people think.”
“Whatever,” Adam says. “Just let me finish this paper, okay?”
Janie sighs. “Fine,” she says. She stands there a moment. Then she smiles at him, wicked. “Pizza Man.”)
258.
Adam flips out at Janie.
Loses it.
“What’s the matter?” she says. “You are the Pizza Man, aren’t you? Isn’t that who you want to be?”
“Not when you say it like that,” Adam tells her. “Not with that fucking, like, tone.”
Janie looks at Adam. Looks at Sara Bryant’s geography paper. Looks at her own reflection in the mirror.
(Dress. Makeup. Heels.)
(A goddess.)
“Screw this,” Janie says. “Keep the room if you want. I’m outta here.”
And she’s gone.
(Like I said, Janie’s not dumb.)
259.
Adam keeps the hotel room. Adam finishes Sara Bryant’s geography paper. Adam wonders if letting Janie walk out was a tactical error. If it’ll have a harmful effect on his reputation.
Then Adam thinks, Who cares?
He thinks, I’ll fix this, somehow.
He thinks, Finally, I can sleep.
Adam sleeps.
260.
“So what’s the deal?” Brian says. “You get with those two hotties, or what?”
They’re driving out to meet Bondy for the weekly ID pickup. It’s a slow week, only three orders. It’s been a slow
month.
(Apparently everyone at Nixon has a fake ID by this point. Business is trending down. The market, she is saturated.)
Adam looks out the window at the factories and train yards alongside the expressway. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess I did.”
Brian laughs. “You’re such a pimp. How was it?”
Adam shrugs. “It was good.”
Brian glances across the car at Adam. “Just good?” he says, grinning. “Bullshit. I bet it was pornographic.”
Adam just smiles. Doesn’t say anything. Since Janie walked out, he’s been kinda meh. The Janie stuff, it’s had a definite effect on his standing at Nixon.
(I mean, he’s still popular. People still notice when he walks down the hall. But the threesome stuff is old news at this point. And Janie Ng dumped him.
This morning, Paul Nolan made a comment about Adam’s watch, some throwaway joke. All in fun, obviously—
(it’s some shitty Timex)
—but the message is clear.
Adam’s stock is declining, just a little.)
(And Rob Thigpen’s still riding high.)
“We need a new income stream,” Adam tells Brian. “Something to keep us on top of the game.”
Brian frowns. “Homework and two hot chicks on your jock isn’t enough?”
“Tony Montana didn’t stop,” Adam says. “This ID thing’s nearly played out. You want to go back to running pizzas?”
Brian shakes his head. “Hell no.”
“Good,” Adam says. “Because I have our next big idea.”
261.
Pills, Adam’s thinking.
Yeah. Real Scarface shit.
Brian isn’t feeling it at first.
“It makes perfect sense,” Adam tells him. “All the popular kids are into the stuff. They have to get it from somewhere.”
“Shit,” Brian says. “I dunno. That’s some heavy-duty territory you’re talking about moving into right there.”
Maybe, Adam thinks. But maybe it’s the logical progression. Homework. Booze. IDs. The only other things Nixon kids need are drugs and sex—
(and pimpin’ ain’t easy)
(pills, on the other hand? Super easy. Every popular kid in the school pops a pill Friday night. Adam’s seen it. But they have to get their pills from somewhere.
Why not from Adam Higgs?)
“Because it’s fucking illegal, is why,” Brian says. “Like, hard core, break the law, they’ll throw us in jail if they catch us.”
“So we won’t get caught,” Adam tells him. “We’ll keep our mouths shut. You ever watch movies? Ever watch Scarface? It’s when you get stupid that you get caught. We just won’t get stupid.”
Brian shakes his head. “I don’t know, man,” he says. “Easier said than done.”
“Look,” Adam says. “When I first started at Nixon, you told me I had to get ballsy to succeed. Summer’s coming. You want to drive pizzas around while everyone else is getting fucked up at parties?”
Brian stares out the window. “Shit,” he says.
“Just work with me,” Adam tells him. “Your cousin offered to hook me up, back in the day. We talk to him, feel him out. It’s just talk.
“Come on,” Adam says. “When have I let you down before?”
262.
Adam and Brian meet up with Tommy a few days later.
Tommy lives in an apartment on the west side of town, in the ghetto underneath the bridge to Detroit. Brian looks back twice at his shitty Sunfire as he and Adam walk up to the building.
Adam gives him a look. Brian shrugs. “In this neighborhood?” he says. “That thing’s as good as a Bentley.”
Tommy’s apartment is on the eighth floor. It’s a long-ass ride in a smelly, graffiti-stained elevator. The lights flicker. The elevator shudders.
It ain’t confidence-inspiring.
Tommy’s waiting for them at the door. He’s scrawnier than Adam remembers. Pale, with a patchy goatee and a stained wifebeater. He grins at Adam and Brian, kind of unfocused.
(High.)
“You guys,” he says. “How’s it going?”
Tommy’s living room has a big flat-screen TV on the wall and a nice leather sofa. The window looks out over the river. Adam looks around, feels a little more confident in Tommy’s ability to provide.
“You were going to hook me up with some hot high school honeys,” Tommy says. “You never called me back, though.”
Adam shrugs. “They’re overrated.”
Tommy looks at him. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess they are. So what’s up? You guys looking for more booze, or what?”
Adam sits. The sofa is nice. Butter-soft. “We need something a little harder.”
“Harder.” Tommy picks up a bong. Takes a rip. Offers it to Brian. Brian shakes him off. “You want drugs?” Tommy says.
Tommy looks at Brian again. Brian doesn’t say anything. Brian hasn’t said anything since he got off the elevator.
“Pills,” Adam tells Tommy. “How many can you get us?”
Tommy looks at him. Cocks his head. “How many do you want?”
“Lots,” Adam says.
Tommy lights up again. Studies Adam as he inhales. “This isn’t just for some party, I guess,” he says.
Adam shakes his head. “Nope.”
“‘Nope.’” Tommy looks at him some more. Then he laughs. “Ice-cold, you are. You want to be a drug dealer. Bona fide.”
“My whole school’s on this stuff,” Adam tells him. “They have to get it from somewhere.”
“Somewhere,” Tommy says. “That’s the problem. Somewhere is Jamal.”
“Who the hell is Jamal?” Adam says.
Tommy looks at the bong one more time. Like he’s debating firing up again. Then he stands. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you Jamal.”
263.
They ride into downtown in Tommy’s five-liter Mustang. It roars. It rumbles. It’s hard to converse.
“All of your little friends get their pills from Jamal,” Tommy’s yelling over the engine. “Hell, I get my pills from Jamal.”
“I’m just talking about Nixon,” Adam yells back. “I don’t want the city. What the hell’s this guy going to care?”
“Gee, I dunno,” Tommy says. “Rich kids, pretty girls, lots of parties. I’d say he won’t like it.”
“Screw him,” Adam says. “It’s a free market.”
Tommy laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay. You tell Jamal that. There he is now.”
He pulls the Mustang into a parking lot. Kills the engine and points out the window. A strip club in daylight, the most depressing sight known to man. A cream-colored Lexus sedan with blingy chrome rims. A big Lebanese dude with tats and a shaved head and muscle. “Jamal,” Tommy says.
Adam looks at the guy. Adam thinks, That’s a fucking drug dealer. Adam thinks, This is way over my head.
Adam thinks:
Scary.
But then Adam thinks about breaking things off with Janie. He thinks about how Victoria’s never coming back. He thinks about how, for the first time ever, Pizza Man Enterprises actually lost Likes on Facebook.
People have their IDs.
They can get their own booze.
Adam’s not pulling threesomes with goddesses anymore.
He needs something to stay in the game.
Because:
As soon as the hustle stops, god status disappears. And Adam cannot have that.
Adam wants . . .
Well, he wanted to win.
Now he wants to TAKE OVER.
So, fuck Jamal.
264.
“Fuck Jamal,” Adam tells Tommy. “This isn’t the movies. I’m not afraid of him.”
Tommy looks at Adam. Looks at Jamal. Laughs and fires up the Mustang again. “Ice-cold,” he says, idling out of the lot. “Ice-fucking-cold.”
265.
Tommy drives them back to the west side. Parks the Mustang and just looks at Adam. “I know a guy who runs separate
from Jamal,” he says finally. “I think I can swing something. If you’re serious.”
Adam glances at Brian in the backseat. “We’re serious,” he says.
“Cash in advance,” Tommy says. “And keep my name out of it. The last thing I need is Jamal on my ass.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Adam tells him. “We’ll stay cool.”
Tommy climbs out of the car. “You sure you know what you’re doing, kid?”
Adam looks at him.
(No.)
(Shut up.)
“Yeah,” Adam says.
(Taking over.)
Adam grins. “Tony Montana.”
266.
“We’re actually doing this, huh?” Brian says.
It’s a couple days later. They’re driving away from Tommy’s apartment. They’ve just traded a serious pile of cash for a Ziploc bag filled with pills. Adam has the bag stuffed in the glove box. Brian, he notices, is driving exactly the speed limit.
“How do you feel about it?” Adam asks him.
Brian purses his lips. Pulls out to pass a tractor trailer coming down off the bridge and nearly gets creamed by another one. “Shit,” he says, diving back to the slow lane. “I dunno.”
“It’s just pills,” Adam tells him. “Harmless. It’s not cocaine or anything.”
“It’s still drugs,” Brian says.
“It’s going to make us rich,” Adam says. “We’re going to take over. You’ll see.”
Brian drives. Brian sighs. “Yeah,” he says. “Maybe.”
“Just you wait,” Adam tells him. “Just you wait.”
267.
Okay, so Adam has the product. Now he needs the clientele.
Jessie McGill has a chemistry assignment due. Adam finishes it over the weekend. Hands it over Monday morning.
Jessie takes the paper, gives him a quick hug. “Thanks, Pizza Man.” She pulls out her purse. “I have a French assignment coming up. You know any French?”
Adam shrugs. “Un petit peu.”
How to Win at High School Page 17