The Maple Effect

by Madeleine Cull

  8

  Santeria

  The walk down to the lake gave June all the time he needed to get over himself. He kicked every pinecone he came across, vowing not to let Aaron Valentine ruin his first bonfire of the summer.

  So what if Aaron didn't want to go? A few weeks ago, June didn’t even know Aaron, and Angie would have been more than enough company. A few weeks ago, he would have been thrilled to spend this night with his sole best friend. Nothing but moonlight between them. No secrets. No weird feelings. No stupid, handsome face and green eyes.

  It was pathetic getting so wrapped up in these kinds of feelings. To drown and be swept away like a flower in a storm. For fuck’s sake, having a crush was ruining his last summer! He should be spending it drinking cheap beer and relaxing, not sharing a bed with the stranger in the house. Not waiting for him to come around as if June could change his sexuality. Not hoping. Hope was something June didn’t do.

  When June got to the top of the hill, he stopped to pet his favorite old dog. Let her lick him all over the face and allowed himself to laugh out loud in the privacy of the quiet neighborhood. The sun was just dipping down into the pines, casting warm streaks of light across the lake. He lifted his aviators to see it in full color. Breathed in deeply. Felt alive.

  Angie met him down at the docks like she promised she would. Her old hand-me-down truck was packed with the tent and a cooler and various other camping supplies that probably wouldn’t be needed. She was all smiles. Sunshine yellow bikini top and thin, cotton shorts with lace around the bottom.

  Towering beside her was the pale—almost translucent—younger teen June had promised himself he would try and get along with from now on. Charlie looked uncomfortable and distinctly out of place in ugly orange swim trunks and a baggy, faded T-shirt. His bland brown curls looked trimmed since the other day.

  He was a fatal contrast in comparison to Angie. June didn't understand what she saw in him.

  “Hey! Where’s Aaron?” She raised her eyebrows as June lobbed his drawstring bag into the back of the truck.

  It was inevitable that Angie was going to ask, but June flinched anyway. He wanted to put Aaron out of his mind for the evening and have a good time. Spend a normal summer night with his friend.

  “He’s not coming,” June announced quickly. Dismissively. “He said he didn't feel good.”

  The way Angie looked at him made him positive this would not be the end of the conversation. She pursed her lips together in a knowing pout but held her tongue. June appreciated she knew him well enough to drop the subject for now.

  Charlie shifted back and forth on his feet, oblivious to his frustrations.

  “Alright, so we’re all here now. Can we get going?”

  June watched him yank open the passenger truck door and duck his way inside. He had to fold inward not to hit his head. June thought his limbs looked like a connect-the-dots puzzle. All elbows and knees. Like a spider. Only more awkward. The truck door groaned as he shut it behind him.

  “What’s his problem?” June snorted, following Angie as she moved to the driver’s door. She shook her head and tossed a familiar set of keys at him. He caught it against his chest, surprised.

  “Something about his older brother coming for a surprise visit. Guess the dude’s a real asshole.”

  He waited as she climbed into the truck and shifted up next to Charlie. It was considerate of her to let him drive so he wouldn’t be squashed in the middle of them. Although, he would have been content to ride in the bed with their supplies too.

  June got in and turned the key three times before the engine hacked and sputtered to life. It had been over a year since he last sat in this beast, but he remembered it well. The seat was broken and couldn’t be adjusted, so he had to scoot to the very edge of it to reach the brake pedal. The clutch took forever to catch, and the symbols on the stick shift were worn off from age.

  Angie jabbed a finger at the ancient stereo and cranked the volume.

  “To the lake!”

  June grinned as he flung the thing into reverse. “To the lake!”

  A warm and thick breeze cut through the pines like a knife, carrying with it the smell of campfire and marijuana. The lake lapped sluggish against a muddy bank. White moonlight flickering between black waves. Frogs croaked, crickets sang, and in the distance, you could hear the occasional howl of a bobcat too afraid to approach the boisterous crowd but too pissed about it to keep quiet.

  Teenagers of all colors and sizes gathered in clumps, illuminated by a flashlight or lamp beside their tents. Sitting on a log and passing a joint. Feet in the muddy water, laughing so hard they were crying. Yelling at one another. Racing to the giant silver keg that threatened to break the skinny legs of an old fold-out table.

  On someone’s expensive boombox, a Sublime CD played loud and clear into the night. Santeria came on, and everyone collectively stopped and sang along.

  June had almost completely forgotten about Aaron back at the cabin. He was too busy lounging on a raft holding a red solo cup filled with…something potent. Around his wrist was a thin rope he’d found in the bushes. He’d tethered himself to Angie so they wouldn’t float away from each other. Charlie treaded water around them, occasionally reaching a hand up to ask for his beer. Angie passed it to him with fumbling grace.

  “So…” she said after a while of kicking her leg back and forth in the water. She was still wearing sunglasses from earlier today. “Your brother is here?”

  Charlie glanced back at the shore—a good fifty or sixty feet from them—and sunk into the water. His head disappeared around the foot of the raft, and he popped back up between the two of them.

  “I don’t know when he’s coming, but he’ll be here.”

  “Ominous,” June teased as gently as he could. Charlie acted like his older brother was the single worst thing to walk the Earth. An ogre of some sorts. It was laughable.

  “How do you know he’ll show up?” Angie flicked water at the boy. “He doesn’t know a single person here.”

  June’s mind wandered to Aaron, a small bit of tipsy hope making him think Aaron might also show up unexpectedly. He squinted between the trees to the collection of old cars parked along the road. He couldn’t see what was what, but he was pretty sure a red convertible hadn’t pulled up. It was bound to cause a scene if it did.

  “I’m here.” Charlie rested his arms on the edge of Angie’s raft and placed his head on them. “And he always has to fuck with me. No matter what.”

  June didn't have brothers, but the way Charlie spoke sounded a lot more like he was talking about a bully than family. Years of slow-growing fear dulled his eyes, and if June was in a sounder mind, he might have even felt sorry for the guy.

  “You really think he’s gonna come here though?” Angie asked to clarify.

  “I really do.” Charlie sighed. “And he’ll push me around like he always does.”

  June couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Hadn’t this beanpole ever stood up for himself? Ever? Every muscle in his body wanted to jump on the chance to make fun of Charlie, but he wasn’t too drunk to see the irony in that. June had promised he would be nice. He had to do it for Angie.

  “Why don’t you just pop him in the mouth?” He swung his fist weakly, accidentally spilling some of his drink.

  Charlie shook his head. “Because he’s six foot five and weighs twice as much as me.”

  “You shouldn’t fight.” Angie tugged at the rope tying June and her together. She scolded him. “We’re not kids anymore. We could get in real trouble.”

  June knew just as well as Angie that every year the teenagers mutually agreed to keep their ages under wraps during these bonfires. It didn't matter if you were twenty, should the police show up everyone was automatically under eighteen. Better to get in the back of a police car and taken home to your parents’ doorstep than taken to the station.

  He and Angie had spent a few nights of their own being escorted back to their parent
s. Once when Angie had accidentally gotten slipped roofies and June tried to carry her home but ended up passing out in the street. Four different cars had almost run them over before the cop finally showed up, shining a flashlight in their exhausted, red eyes and shaking his head in disappointment.

  June had only gotten out of that one because he hadn’t been drinking at the time (passing out had more to do with over-exerting himself) and he told the police he was just trying to get Angie home. It wasn’t her fault she had drunk out of the wrong cup.

  However, Mrs. Delgado worked them raw that summer to make up for the fact they had snuck out, and June’s mother had cried.

  The second time, they wound up on their parent’s porch, it was the same police officer gripping their shoulders tightly, and this time he was much angrier. June had been at the very peak of his delinquent ways and snuck out on a mission to destroy a political party. He spray-painted two billboards and twelve different election signs before finally getting caught because he was out after curfew. The next day, his father made him scrub all the signs, then clean the gutters. His arms had been sore for two weeks.

  Angie, who had been his driver for the mission, got away with a warning and a secret high-five when no one else was there to witness it. The lucky bitch.

  Delinquent activities aside, June thought of fighting as a right-of-passage for teenagers. He’d scrapped with other boys several times in his young life. Even knocked a tooth out once.

  Charlie, unfortunately, looked like the punching bag type. And he probably didn't fight because he probably wasn’t very good at it.

  “He’s under eighteen,” June commented. “The only one who would get in trouble would be his brother. And Charlie, you could really teach him a lesson you know.”

  The spindly teen rolled his eyes, refusing to entertain the idea. “No,” he grunted, ending the conversation.

  Fine. Don’t take my advice. June chugged what was left in his cup and crammed it into the raft’s cup holder before promptly rolling off and into the cool water. Angie screeched, yanked overboard by her wrist.

  She kicked him in the hip when he broke the surface, cussing and pushing her soggy curls out of her face. June hurried to untie his end of the rope.

  “Come on. I’ll race you to shore!”

  Her eyes lit up, “Charlie get the rafts!” and she dove under water.

  “What! Why me?!” the younger teen whined as June kicked furiously away from him.

  Bitter with the subconscious knowledge that Aaron had never shown up and it was well past midnight, June drank heavier than he had since…well…last summer probably. And he lay in the dry, springy grass staring up at the sky with a mad case of the spins. White stars swirled one way, then halted, rolled back up on each other like a wave and then spun the other direction. He blinked at them, feeling heavy and hot and a little ornery.

  Angie lay beside him on her side, not as far gone but certainly not sober either. Her hand played with the edges of his shirt, which she had stolen after winning their race. On her other side was Charlie, sitting up and far too alert. He picked up a long stalk of grass and sucked on the white end of it until it was too soggy, then threw it aside and plucked another.

  Music still played loudly in the background, drowning out the rhythmic lapping of the water and teenage chatter. There was a cluttered, stringy sound, like old country music. June didn't recognize it but knew he wasn’t fond of it either. That probably played a part of why he felt so grumpy.

  Somewhere nearby around an old stump, a group of younger teens played Spin-The-Bottle, howling and hooting every few minutes, reminding June of the first time he’d kissed another boy. It had been all teeth and sloppy, inexperienced lips. Lasted a painful four seconds and resulted in his sisters accidentally outing him to an entire group of strangers. He’d fought someone that night, but couldn’t remember who.

  Lost in the memories of bonfires past, June closed his eyes and let the vertigo rock him toward sleep. The noises faded along with the heat crawling under his skin, and just when he was about to drop off and start snoring, Angie spoke.

  “So why didn’t Aaron want to come?”

  June blinked himself awake and sighed. Rolled over to face Angie. “Honestly, I—”

  “Hey!” a loud, unexpected snarl cut through the crowds and bounced off the mountains in the distance. June lurched upright, ignoring the sway of the ground beneath him. The echo rolled across the lake and back to them menacingly.

  “Who the hell is that?” Angie sat up beside him, crossing her arms over her knees and following the gaze of many teens. Everyone collectively stopped, quiet and uncertain.

  Stumbling around the other end of the clearing was a man (a few years too old to be attending this party), obviously drunk and making his way from group to group of shocked teenagers. He slurred harsh words at them, unnecessary and unfamiliar insults laced with malice dripping from his tongue. He was huge; built like a brick house and bathed in the pale white moonlight. June watched as each person he passed trembled beneath his gaze. Smaller and younger. Cornered like a mouse caught between the claws of a grizzly bear.

  “Shit.” Charlie looked back and forth frantically, perhaps judging the distance to the trees. “That’s him!” he hissed. “My brother.”

  Anger bubbled back up in June’s stomach, rising like bile to his esophagus. The rush of alcohol through his system was fiery and burning. He wasn’t sure what he hated more; the fact that Charlie’s asshole brother was such a brute and felt the need to ruin everyone else’s night, or the fact that Charlie was so afraid of him he made no attempts to stop it.

  There was something to be said about ownership around this lake, and it was frustrating that Charlie didn't seem to understand any part of it. June’s family made the trip across the country every year to spend their summers right here. He’d grown here with the other kids; scraped his knees on the old pavement and carved his initials into the pines. He’d watched his face turn slowly from boy to teen in the reflection of the murky lake. June was baptized in those waters and the ways of this community. He was a part of the people. A part of the mountain. Felt an obligation to protect every fallen acorn, every smoldering campfire and most of all, every shitty, drunken teen on this scrap of muddy shore.

  Wily and proud, June got to his feet, teeth pressed hard together. Charlie also stood, completely sober now that his older brother had spotted him and was blundering their way. He was breathing hard, with one eye on Angie at all times (as if the girl couldn’t handle herself, sheesh).

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing out here, huh, shitbag?” The older brother snarled; crooked teeth bared behind thin lips. The smell of Fireball and weed clung to him like the ugly old flannel he wore. He had no shoes, soulless shark eyes, and a face full of acne scars.

  “L-Leave me alone, Richard!” Charlie squawked; his bony hands curled into fists. He shook like a leaf.

  Angie stood between them now, one hand on each their arms, holding firmly. June knew it was a warning, but his frontal lobe was poisoned by tequila, and his masculinity flared beside his ego. This guy was bigger and older, but the blood roared in his ears anyway. Common sense launched itself into the lake and sank.

  “Hey! Hey!” Angie made a move to place herself between the older brother and her newer friend. Her eyes were wide, both in fear and anticipation. “What is the problem?!” she demanded.

  “Angie please—!” Charlie tried.

  “The problem is none of your goddamn business!” Richard loomed over the three of them. A crowd was forming a half circle behind his back, silent and expectant. Their expressions ranged from the same worry Angie felt, to the wild, untamed excitement snapping like a beast inside of June.

  Time stood still for a half a second until the asshole’s chest touched the open palm of Angie’s hand, and then all hell broke loose.

  He swung a heavy arm at her. Huge mitt landing on her slender shoulder and shoving her aside. She landed in the grass
with a muted thud and a gasp, followed by a chorus of cursing from the audience. Worry turned to hate and fire burst in her eyes. She kicked out hard, at the same moment, June sprung forward like a dog off its leash. He hurled himself at the mountain of a man, spilling them all over the ground in a pile of limbs.

  June’s right hand followed him down and landed several blows to the sides of Richard’s thick head. Adrenalin fueled them both, and they rolled in one heavy movement, both trying to gain the upper hand. The yelling of the crowd slowly gathered into a chant. Dozens of teenagers barking over and over again.

  FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

  Suddenly June was on his side, tasting dirt but still swinging. The familiar feeling of teeth against his knuckles brought blood to the surface of his fist, followed by a few wet drops landing on his face. He could feel his rapid heart in his throat.

  FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

  Pressure built on his ribs—a knee probably—pushing down harder and harder until pain pierced through his intoxication and he screamed. It was like electricity sparking and popping; a loose telephone wire falling into a puddle. Relentless until he couldn’t breathe. His muscles screamed, hands weakening until they could only cross over his face for protection. They were batted aside easily, and his cheek was sliced open in one perfect hit.

  FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

  Somewhere through the mania, Angie screamed and the weight left him. Then he heard the much louder voices of the crowd. They were closer now, their chanting a rhythmic pulse like thunder. Like the sound of the Four Horseman coming to get him. June’s vision swam with white lights, blinking and darting across the back of his eyelids.

  FIGHT! FI—

  The world came to a groaning, grinding stop, and he fell right the fuck off it.

  When June’s eyes flickered open, he was slumped against the cold metal of Angie’s truck. Familiar hands were on him, but he couldn’t find the faces they belonged to. His muscles ached, and the taste of blood in his mouth was so overwhelming he tried to crawl in a direction (hopefully) away from anyone’s shoes.