"Makes me glad I'm graduating this year," Solomon said. He lifted his bottle. "Another chug ... To putting up with Maako for only one more week!"
Everyone laughed, and drank.
***
A few hours later, my head was floating in a drunken haze and my body swayed even when I wasn't moving. I wondered where Annalisa was. She and the other two should've showed up already. I looked around. I must've been doing that a lot, because Kyle knocked me on the shoulder and said, "Everything cool?"
"Yeah, sure," I said.
But I was disappointed. More than a little. Tonight would've been the perfect opportunity to have Annalisa see me with all the cool people at school, after I had just played the soccer game of my life. It was my time to shine. Later, we could've found a place to be alone.
But just when I figured the three girls had decided to stay home and wait until next year to hang out at a seniors party, Stephanie and Trinity emerged from the woods, glassy-eyed and dressed übergoth (just to annoy Kyle, I was sure), with multiple streaks of color in their black-as-coal hair. Annalisa followed close behind. She looked as pretty as always, though seemed a little cold. I'd offer her my jacket as soon as we had a moment together.
Stephanie and Trinity looked around the party, appearing every bit like lost sophomores. That their typical bravado was nowhere to be found made me chuckle. But my amusement was short-lived. Stephanie saw Kyle, and Trinity saw me, and they instantly took on an air like they very much belonged.
"What's up, Jonny-boy?" Trinity said.
"Not here," I said.
This was my time. Tomorrow, Trinity and Stephanie could call me by whatever name they wanted, but for one night at the circle I wanted them to fully recognize the respect I deserved.
"Okay, Jonny," she said with surprising contrition.
Annalisa tugged at my jacket sleeve. "Ciao, Jonathan," she said, holding tight. I loved the way she said my name. I loved the way she smelled. I loved looking into her eyes. "You were fantastic at the futbol match. The most—I mean, best—I have ever watched." She draped her arms over me and giggled. "I think I have drinked too much."
I whispered in her ear. "You got your wish."
"What wish?"
"You're at the circle."
Annalisa tilted her head and smiled a very drunk smile. "I believe it is your wish, too."
She was right.
"So, will you mind me, I mean, look after me tonight?" she asked.
I was about to say yes and offer my jacket when Trinity leaned in. "We don't need a damn chaperone. We're big girls."
Stephanie blurted out, "You wanna fool around with Annalisa, don'tcha, Jonny?"
"He does!" Trinity laughed.
Solomon, Richie, and the others turned and gave me a look that all guys understood. "Nice going, Fehey!"
"No, no..." I said, without thinking. "I mean—" But my protest had been a little too strong. Stephanie rolled her eyes and pulled Annalisa away.
Of course, I wanted to watch over her. I wanted to kiss her, too. And hold her. I wanted to take her hand and lead her into the woods so we could be blanketed in the comfort of darkness. It wasn't enough to exchange glances and hellos with her in the school hallway. It wasn't enough to spend afternoons sitting shoulder to shoulder in the library stacks, or huddled together on the dock. And, as nice as it was, it wasn't enough to have her voice be the last one I heard before I went to sleep at night.
"Later," Trinity said.
The three girls were off to be in their own world; I was left to mine. I watched as they flitted around the party, talking to senior guys, drinking, smoking, laughing. And flirting—definitely flirting.
The guys on the team went on about the game. There was more chugging and plenty of high-fives. I thought I'd want to hear and talk about my goal and our victory all night long, but I didn't. Instead, I tried to follow whom the three girls were with and what they were doing. But as the night wore on and the alcohol numbed my mind even more, I lost track.
"Who needs another?" Brad said. "I got a full cooler in the back seat of my car—Rolling Rock, Michelob, Heinies." He gestured to his Range Rover parked halfway down the cul-de-sac. "Jonny, you're up." He put a hand on my shoulder and laughed. "You gonna make it?"
I nodded.
"Grab as many as you can," Brad said. "It's unlocked."
I walked—more like staggered—down to the Range Rover. I felt lightheaded (but my legs were heavy) and my vision was frayed around the edges. I was near the point of no return, but I didn't care. Besides, this wasn't completely unfamiliar. I'd been there twice before. Last spring, when my mom was on a date, I'd passed out on our roof with a blanket and a twelve-pack. The other time was with Ruby. I didn't mind relinquishing control to the alcohol—what was the worst that could happen?
I put a hand on the car to hold myself steady. I had believed Annalisa and I would end the night together, but who knew if that would happen now. And if I hadn't been so drunk, I might've been really pissed off. Instead, I felt strangely empowered. I decided to have a couple more beers. Fuck that—I'd have a lot more than a couple. I was wasted. Now I was gonna get shit-faced. I pulled the handle on the back door just as someone opened the other side. We both leaned in.
It was Sloan.
Shit...
We looked at each other for an odd moment. "I was, uh, just gettin' a few beers," I said. "You go first."
Sloan unlatched the cooler top and grabbed a beer in each hand. The streetlights shined on her blond hair and glinted in her eyes. She was so good-looking, so popular, and she didn't give a crap about me. I was just one of those nameless, faceless, statusless people who took up space at Millburn High. She started to get out of the car.
But I didn't want to remain nameless and faceless. I'd been waiting more than a year to say something to Sloan.
"I knew your cousin," I said.
She stopped. "Excuse me?"
"I knew Ruby. We met last summer. Not this past summer, the summer before."
"Why're you telling me?" Sloan said.
"I'm really wasted right now, but I mean it when I tell ya she was the specialist person, I mean, the most special person." Was sounded so wrong. "Sorry about what happened." Sorry sounded kind of wrong, too.
I expected Sloan to give me a dirty look and walk away. Instead, she sank back into the seat.
I did, too.
And there I was, sitting with Sloan Ruehl in the back of Brad's Range Rover, and the only thing between us was a cooler.
"I miss Ruby," she said. "We didn't get to see each other a whole lot, but when we did, it was wonderful. Like we were sisters. I wish we had been. She was so smart and creative..." Her voice trailed off.
There was more I wanted to say, but my thoughts were jumbled. Ruby and I lived a lifetime on that teen tour. I wanted to tell Sloan that, without making it seem like I was trying to win some kind of who-knew-Ruby-better contest. And I didn't want her to think I was just being that loser Fehey, sucking up to her because she was at the top of the ladder.
"In July I visited my aunt and uncle at their lake house Sloan said. "Eugene, Ruby's brother—I'm sure she mentioned him—was about to leave for college. Even a year later, they were still all broken up. We went out on their boat a few times. It was nice, but it wasn't the same. All it did was remind me how much Ruby hated—"
"The water," I finished.
Sloan nodded. She handed me a beer. "Please."
I took the opener from the front seat and fumbled to pop off the cap. I fumbled with mine, too.
"To my cousin Ruby," Sloan said, tilting the bottle back. She took a few gulps, then said, "You really knew her, didn't you?"
"I did ... I think."
"And you liked her?"
"Lots."
"My aunt gave me a bunch of Ruby's stuff," Sloan said. "I kind of wished she hadn't. I didn't want to look at it, but I couldn't get rid of it, either. I mean, how could I? So I got it all in a box under my bed. I wrote 'Rub
y' on the side—like I'd ever forget what's in it. A T-shirt from a Divinyls concert's in there and like a hundred photos of us together. And CDs she sent me. We loved the same music. And letters. So many letters. Ruby loved to write."
Someone banged on the trunk. "Hey, Jonny, where's the beer? We're losin' our buzz." Brad looked in. "Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."
"Just give us a sec," Sloan said.
I handed Brad as many beers as he could hold, then he walked away.
"Jonny..." she started to say. It was the first time I ever heard Sloan say my name.
"Need another opened?"
"I'm okay." She hesitated. "I got one last letter from Ruby. Must've been mailed right before the..." Her eyes welled up. "Postmarked from New Mexico. For like six pages she just went on and on. Didn't mention anything else about the trip, just this really great guy from Short Hills. She liked you, Jonny. She said so."
I didn't know if I should've felt happy or sad, but in the condition I was, I doubted I could've felt either.
"Look, I gotta get back," Sloan said. "Do me a favor, don't say anything to anyone. I want Ruby between just you and me."
"Sure," I said.
Sloan got out of the car. Eventually, I did, too. I leaned against the Range Rover, beyond the edge of the party, sucking down one beer ... then another ... watching my teammates still celebrating, and Maako with his hands on some girl, and Trinity leaning against Joshua's Porsche, making a fuss about wearing some guy's football varsity jacket, and Sheila passing Brandy a joint...
I closed my eyes and drifted, and I would've been happy to just stand there for a while longer, but I had to piss—really, really badly.
I made it over to the pine trees, then stumbled through. I could hardly see where I was stepping. When I reached for a branch I thought was in front of me, I tripped and banged my knee on a rock. I stood up, but then fell again—this time it was my elbow. I staggered deeper into the woods, the surface of South Pond moving closer, the voices from the circle becoming muffled. Finally, I put my beer down, unzipped my jeans, and opened the floodgates.
Maybe it was my mind swirling in alcohol and excitement and the smell of pine, but I was positive something significant had occurred tonight—the ladder had been rendered null and void. The crowd and its power would no longer be an obstacle. I'd entered its temple. Being at tonight's party was surprising, but in a few weeks it'd be expected. Then I'd hang out with Sloan and her bitches any time I damn well pleased.
When I was done, I zipped up and reached for my beer. Instead, I lost my balance, fell forward, and smacked my head against a tree trunk. I tried to straighten up, but when I took a step my ankle rolled sharply on a gnarled root.
Down I went.
The back of my skull hitting the ground.
I reached for my ankle. Oh, fuck, don't be broken ... Don't be a torn ... Either one and my season was finished. I felt around the bone to gauge the damage, but even the slightest touch hurt like hell. Then I realized my jeans were soaked. No... I reached under my back and pulled out my beer bottle—empty. I definitely couldn't go back to the party now. Not with a limp and a huge wet stain on my ass. I'd look like an idiot. What, Fehey couldn't figure out how to piss in the woods? People would laugh me out of the circle. Maako would. Sloan would. Trinity and Stephanie would. Who knows, maybe Annalisa, too. I'd be the biggest loser in—
Vomit rushed up my throat. I turned my head and booted. And again. After a few more convulsions, I wiped my mouth on my jacket sleeve and spit.
Why me?
Why tonight?
I laid my head on the dirt. I'd been teased with the belief that my world had changed. A moment of soccer brilliance. In an ideal position for the pass. Receiving the ball perfectly. Striking it perfectly. I scored the goal of the season. Because of it, I figured the ladder was crushed and I'd earned the right to hang with the crowd. But it was all a joke. I'd been sucked in, dreaming the dream. Fucked-up ankle. Wet jeans. Stench of beer and piss and puke. Fate got me—hook, line, and sinker.
The clouds parted; the moon shined down. I was alone. In the woods. My head on the cold earth. I was close to the party, not far from my home, and miles beyond wasted. I closed my eyes and let the night pull away...
***
"Wasted little girl..."
I opened my eyes. Treetops were whipping back and forth and the sky was spinning.
"A little farther," I thought I heard. "Come on, you can make it."
I tried to lift my head off the ground, but couldn't. I turned to my side and looked toward the path. Through fallen branches and between trees, I could just make out the silhouette of a guy walking with a girl. More like carrying her. Toward the rowboat, it seemed. They passed through a thin band of moonlight. I saw the lettering on the back of his jacket. MILLBURN SOCCER. The guy stopped and turned.
Maako.
I held still. Didn't breathe. Keep going, keep moving ... I couldn't let him find me—my world would blow up. He'd accuse me, mock me, say I followed him. Spied on him. Wanted to watch him. I was sick. A queer. A faggot.
He continued down the path, the girl's head bouncing on his shoulder and her legs kind of shuffling along. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see any more. I didn't want to hear any more. I didn't want to know any more...
***
I woke up, again.
Still on the ground. I looked.
In the dark of the woods, Maako was holding the girl's waist—kind of like they were slow dancing. The pond in the background. Them sucking face (or maybe not). Either way, this was wrong. Maako was an asshole—the whole damn school knew it. What girl would've been stupid enough to be alone with him?
The girl suddenly slipped through his arms to the ground. I couldn't see much—her hair billowing, the awkward bend of her knee—but I could tell Maako was standing over her. He had a bottle. He guzzled it. Then guzzled some more. The expression on his face quickly changed. It was peculiar, like he was thinking, figuring, scheming.
He looked toward Lake Road...
And up the dirt path...
Then the woods...
Maako kneeled down. Next to the girl. He was doing something. Lifting her sweater, it looked like. Then maybe her bra. Was he pinching her nipples? Even tugging at them? Yet the girl didn't move, and I didn't hear her say a word.
"Enough, Maako..."
But my voice was a whisper, lost in the sounds of the rustling branches. My hands tightened into fists. I felt heat, wicked heat. My fist shot out from my shoulder, crashing against Maako's jaw, feeling the skin and bone underneath give way, blood spurting from his mouth. Maako crumpled to the ground.
It was only in my mind.
I tried to push up off the dirt, but my arms gave way and I collapsed. I was dead tired and so out-of-my-mind drunk. My eyes flickered open and shut. I fought to stay conscious, but a wave of silent blackness rolled over me...
***
"Keep your fuckin' voice down..."
Maako's voice shook me awake.
I was face-down on the ground, my mouth pasty, the smell of puke all around. I turned my head and looked. Maako was standing near the dock.
"We were foolin' around ... She was beggin' for it ... Take a look..."
Who was he talking to? From behind a tree, I saw the silhouette of another guy. I focused my eyes.
It looked like Kyle.
It was Kyle.
Shit...the Mighty Saint-Claire was going to save the day. Should've expected that. I could hardly lift my head off the dirt, but Kyle was going to swoop in and be a hero.
Maako stumbled over to the girl, then bent down next to her. "She's passed out," he said. "She won't remember nothin'."
"Why, what'd ya give her?" Kyle said.
Maako laughed. "Harmless stuff." He lifted the girl's sweater. "Take a look."
"Just leave her."
"Ya don't like titties?" Maako said. "That's why ya hang wit' faggy Fehey. You two bone each other, right?"
> Kyle stepped toward him.
Maako stood up. "Really wanna fight? 'Cause I'll beat the shit outta ya. Then I'll tell the whole school you're a big homo. Wanna take that chance?"
"You're gonna get kicked off the team."
"By who, Pennyweather? He won't do shit. I'll tell ya a little secret. I don't give a damn if we lose in the state tournament. I got next year to rule Millburn soccer. You seniors'll be gone. Pennyweather'll be gone. That's right, it's a done deal. Pennyweather's finished."
"Bullshit."
"What's bullshit is you wastin' time. Everythin' ya do, the whole damn town knows about. Can't take a dump without the Item or the Ledger or some other newspaper writin' about it." He motioned toward the girl. "Here's a chance to have a little fun without anyone knowin'. Right here. At your feet. I did her. Now it's your turn."
Kyle said nothing.
Maako laughed. "So you are a homo."
I'll tell the truth."
"What truth?"
"You and her."
"You ain't gonna say a word, Saint-Claire."
"How ya gonna stop me?"
"College scouts'll be at the states," Maako said. "Say a thing and I'll make sure ya don't touch the ball. Me, Gallo, and Maynard'll make ya invisible. We control the game. How's that gonna look to scouts, especially after the shit ya pulled at Summit?" Maako stepped out onto the dock. "I gotta take a leak. Now go be a man."
Kyle stood over her.
No way.
He dropped to his knees.
No way.
He took off his varsity jacket and covered her face with a sleeve.
It was a lie. Kyle wouldn't. Not Kyle.
My eyes had to be tricking me. Or my mind. This was a fucked-up dream. Or nightmare. I couldn't take any more. I turned and let my consciousness spiral away...
***
"I can't do this..." Kyle's voice cracked. He sat back on his ankles, between the girl's legs. He wiped his eyes. "I just can't..."
I heard the girl cough. Weakly.
Then, her arm flailed. Without warning. Without control.
Kyle's head snapped back. He jumped to his feet, his jeans unbuttoned, and fell back against a tree. I saw a pathetic, panicked look on his face. Then he booted. A bizarre, guttural sound. His body shook a second time. And a third. He touched his forehead, looked at his fingers, then slumped down and buried his head in his hands.
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