Two Parties, One Tux, and a Very Short Film about The Grapes of Wrath by Steven Goldman Page B

games?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDo you play baseball?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you a Braves fan?”
    â€œNo.”
    Without looking in the rearview mirror, I can tell that Carrie is groaning and rolling her eyes. She is so embarrassed by me.
    Amanda goes to a lot of games, plays softball, and loves the Braves.
    â€œDo you think David has a concussion?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThat must have really hurt, don’t you think?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIs David your best friend?”
    â€œYes.”
    Amanda thinks it was probably just a bruise, but it does hurt and she knows because she once got walloped by a field hockey ball. Did I know she played field hockey too?
    She grills me about what teachers I have for what subjects. My taste in music. Whether I’ve ever played a musical instrument. She’s played cello since she was six. It is a long ride home.
    Oh, yeah. Oops .
    Dad meets us at the door, looking for dinner. Dad can cook, but you have to tell him that he’s supposed to or it just doesn’t happen. If he hadn’t married Mom while he was still in residency, he might have starved. Carrie shows him where the kitchen is and reminds him how to boil pasta. We are searching for something to put on it when the phone rings.
    â€œOh, yeah. Oops,” Carrie says. “I’ll tell him. Hey, Mitchell, forget something?”
    I can’t think of anything.
    â€œDo you want to go back and pick up our mother? We stranded her at David’s house.”
    Oh, yeah. Oops.
    On the way home my mother tells me how worried she is about David. I listen carefully, because when she is worried about me she often expresses it in terms of her anxiety about David.
    â€œI think he’s too shy.”
    David’s not shy. No one would call him gregarious, but he’s not shy.
    â€œAbout girls.”
    Oh.
    â€œHas he asked M.C. to the prom yet?”
    No. But I don’t know if anyone has told him he’s supposed to. I certainly haven’t. Mom has been focused on the prom lately, partly because Carrie is obsessed with it and partly because she thinks it is a good opportunity for David and me to go out with girls.
    â€œWe haven’t talked about the prom,” I tell her.
    â€œWhat do you guys talk about?”
    â€œExplosives, red meat, professional wrestling. You know, guy stuff.”
    Normal
    David has decided that we need to be more normal. That’s what he says when he calls me. His head is just fine, we need to be normal, and he will be by to pick me up at 8:13. It’s a Monday, but I don’t argue. When he pulls up at 8:11, I ask where we are going and get a “just get in the car,” and so I do. He drives about a quarter of a mile from my house into what might be a future cul-de-sac. This end of the development is still being built; there are no houses on this little road, just a few large piles of dirt and some scrap wood that someone dumped here. It isn’t scenic, but it’s deserted. It occurs to me that this is the kind of place where you’d expect to find some couple parked making out.
    â€œWe are seventeen years old. We should be drinkingmore.” David reaches behind the front seat and produces a brown paper bag. We get out of the car and sit on the curb. David pulls two beers from the bag and hands me one.
    â€œWhere did you get it?”
    â€œMy parents had a big party, and I lifted a six-pack. They weren’t counting, so they’ll never notice.”
    I try to imagine David sneaking around his house with a six-pack and hiding it in his room. Where would he hide it? Under his bed? In his sock drawer?
    I try to twist off the top, but David is prepared. He pulls out a Swiss Army knife and pries off the caps.
    â€œI don’t think I want to drink more,” I tell him. “The last time I got drunk was at my cousin’s bar mitzvah. For some reason, the college student tending the bar was serving