lift?”
Chuck doesn’t respond and I almost repeat myself, but he cuts in and says, “Where are you?”
“Saint Hilary’s.”
Chuck takes a sharp breath. “Jesus, Doc, ain’t that priceless. Are you hurt?”
“No, my friend.”
The phone crackles and Chuck says something I can’t hear, but then is back on. “If I do this, you’ll get me in with those kids. Pronto. Deal?”
I want to scream at him for using this moment as leverage, but I also can’t help thinking, if there is a next time? “Deal.”
—
The entire ride Chuck’s said one thing, “You owe me.” As if I could have forgotten. But now we pull up to my house and stuck in the ground is a for sale sign. “What’s the deal, Doc?”
Chuck’s voice startles me. “Um, well, we’re moving,” I say.
“Moving? Where to?”
I don’t really want to get into this, but he drove me home and he is my boss. “It’s complicated, but hopefully around here.”
“ Hopefully? Doc, what’s up?”
I sigh. No point in trying to hide. I give him the summary and avoid making eye contact.
“You’re in it up to your eyeballs, huh?”
I nod. That’s a pretty fair assessment.
“Let me know if I can help. Capeesh ?”
“Thanks, Chuck.”
“I’d say anytime , but you’d know that’s complete bullshit.” He pulls away.
I walk in and slip off my soaked sneakers. If I can get to my room and change, I’m set. I climb the stairs, listening for my parents, but don’t hear them. I rip off my wet gear and change quick, and head back out into the hall. Still nothing. I peek in their room and the office, and then head downstairs to the kitchen, where there is a note on the table.
Ben,
Sorry, no bacon this time. We’re in a rush. Had to go look at some apartments ASAP. We’re already getting bids on the house.
We’ll talk later.
Mom
“Bids?” I say to the empty kitchen. “How?” I look around at my worn-out house and wonder who in their right mind would want this place. And isn’t the economy supposed to blow right now? People not buying homes? Or is it not selling them? My head spins, and I grab the chair in front of me. I should eat. It’s after 3:00 and I haven’t had anything since breakfast. But my insides are too twisted for food. I need to lie down.
I head back to my room, and climbing the stairs feels like I’m scaling a damn mountain. My legs are shot. Thank God I don’t have to work until tomorrow or I’d be throwing pizzas onto people’s lawns from the Jeep like some newspaper carrier.
I crash onto my bed and check my phone before putting it on my nightstand. Nothing from Ricky, but I do have a text from Ginny: Did you go through with the dare?
I grind my jaw and close my eyes. The other night floods back, the part after my parents left us to go finish their own conversation.
Ginny said she found the video while doing research for her paper. I didn’t believe her at first. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.
I couldn’t answer because the truth was too painful. Ginny was like Alexia in school: popular and attractive, lots of friends. She wouldn’t have understood.
“You better have something better for Mom and Dad. They won’t take the silent treatment.” Her face turned ugly then. “How could you do this to them, anyway? Now? When they’ve got so much they have to deal with? Important things. You’re so immature.”
I kept my mouth shut because she was right on all counts. I am immature and this is the kind of shit my parents will kill me for and they deserve better. But I felt like I needed the fun the dares provided. Or used to. It sucks trying to live up to her Goody-Two-shoes nature and I wanted something for myself, something she would never do. Couldn’t say that, though.
Then an idea crawled across her face and spread like a rash. “I could go show them this video right now, and you’d be screwed from here to eternity. But . . .” She paused and looked back at the screen and then at me.
Chuck doesn’t respond and I almost repeat myself, but he cuts in and says, “Where are you?”
“Saint Hilary’s.”
Chuck takes a sharp breath. “Jesus, Doc, ain’t that priceless. Are you hurt?”
“No, my friend.”
The phone crackles and Chuck says something I can’t hear, but then is back on. “If I do this, you’ll get me in with those kids. Pronto. Deal?”
I want to scream at him for using this moment as leverage, but I also can’t help thinking, if there is a next time? “Deal.”
—
The entire ride Chuck’s said one thing, “You owe me.” As if I could have forgotten. But now we pull up to my house and stuck in the ground is a for sale sign. “What’s the deal, Doc?”
Chuck’s voice startles me. “Um, well, we’re moving,” I say.
“Moving? Where to?”
I don’t really want to get into this, but he drove me home and he is my boss. “It’s complicated, but hopefully around here.”
“ Hopefully? Doc, what’s up?”
I sigh. No point in trying to hide. I give him the summary and avoid making eye contact.
“You’re in it up to your eyeballs, huh?”
I nod. That’s a pretty fair assessment.
“Let me know if I can help. Capeesh ?”
“Thanks, Chuck.”
“I’d say anytime , but you’d know that’s complete bullshit.” He pulls away.
I walk in and slip off my soaked sneakers. If I can get to my room and change, I’m set. I climb the stairs, listening for my parents, but don’t hear them. I rip off my wet gear and change quick, and head back out into the hall. Still nothing. I peek in their room and the office, and then head downstairs to the kitchen, where there is a note on the table.
Ben,
Sorry, no bacon this time. We’re in a rush. Had to go look at some apartments ASAP. We’re already getting bids on the house.
We’ll talk later.
Mom
“Bids?” I say to the empty kitchen. “How?” I look around at my worn-out house and wonder who in their right mind would want this place. And isn’t the economy supposed to blow right now? People not buying homes? Or is it not selling them? My head spins, and I grab the chair in front of me. I should eat. It’s after 3:00 and I haven’t had anything since breakfast. But my insides are too twisted for food. I need to lie down.
I head back to my room, and climbing the stairs feels like I’m scaling a damn mountain. My legs are shot. Thank God I don’t have to work until tomorrow or I’d be throwing pizzas onto people’s lawns from the Jeep like some newspaper carrier.
I crash onto my bed and check my phone before putting it on my nightstand. Nothing from Ricky, but I do have a text from Ginny: Did you go through with the dare?
I grind my jaw and close my eyes. The other night floods back, the part after my parents left us to go finish their own conversation.
Ginny said she found the video while doing research for her paper. I didn’t believe her at first. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.
I couldn’t answer because the truth was too painful. Ginny was like Alexia in school: popular and attractive, lots of friends. She wouldn’t have understood.
“You better have something better for Mom and Dad. They won’t take the silent treatment.” Her face turned ugly then. “How could you do this to them, anyway? Now? When they’ve got so much they have to deal with? Important things. You’re so immature.”
I kept my mouth shut because she was right on all counts. I am immature and this is the kind of shit my parents will kill me for and they deserve better. But I felt like I needed the fun the dares provided. Or used to. It sucks trying to live up to her Goody-Two-shoes nature and I wanted something for myself, something she would never do. Couldn’t say that, though.
Then an idea crawled across her face and spread like a rash. “I could go show them this video right now, and you’d be screwed from here to eternity. But . . .” She paused and looked back at the screen and then at me.
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