What They Always Tell Us by Martin Wilson Page A

know. I mean, I figured you guys were—”
    “It’s fine,” he said, cutting him off. “She’s a nutcase anyway.”
    “Oh.”
    “So don’t worry about it.”
    “Okay. Well, I just wanted to say sorry.”
    And before James could say anything else, Alex had pulled the door shut and left. James hadn’t meant to sound so short. But the phone call from Alice had pissed him off. He didn’t even want to think about her.
    After a tense last quarter, Alabama wins the game, so James can finally peel his ass off the couch. He decides to call Nathen to see if he wants to go to Tyler’s party. He knows Greer has relatives in town and he has to hang out with his cousins, who are good little religious girls from Memphis. And Preston went to his mother’s house in Huntsville.
    “Is Nathen there?” he asks when Mr. Rao answers, sounding proper and elegant with his British accent.
    “Oh, hello, James. No, he’s out running. With your brother, in fact. I expect him home in a little while. Shall I have him call you?”
    “Sure,” he says, then hangs up. Those two are always fucking running, he thinks. Can’t they ever take a break? It’s not like he’s playing tennis every minute of the day.
    He decides he might as well go to Tyler’s later, with or without Nathen.
     
    After dinner—chicken parmesan, a nice break from warmed-over turkey from the Watsons—and after Alex has headed to his room, James tells his mother he’s going to a party.
    “A party?” she says, rinsing dishes in the sink. “Who’s having a party?”
    “Well, it’s more like hanging out, I guess. Not like a big party, just a small group.”
    “Okay. Just be home by twelve-thirty. Or midnight.” She hands him a rinsed plate to put in the dishwasher. “Whose party is it?”
    “Um, one of the guys on the team,” he says.
    “Who?”
    “Tyler.”
    “Oh,” she says, sounding pleasantly surprised. She has always liked Tyler, maybe because he’s such a good ass-kisser. Parents love a good ass-kisser, even if that person is obvious about it. “Is your brother going with you?”
    “Uh, no.”
    “Why not?”
    “I dunno. Guess he’s not really invited.”
    “Why not?”
    “Mom, I don’t know!”
    She shuts off the sink and wipes her hands. “I don’t get it.” She shakes her head and gets this irritated look on her face. Doesn’t she know that all of Alex’s friends have dumped him? Is she that clueless? James wonders.
    “Anyway, I doubt Alex would want to go,” he says.
    She nods and turns away from him, walking to the pantry, peering inside for something. “Well, like I said, be home by twelve-thirty. And drive safely.”
    She sounds the way she does when she’s mad—her tone all snide and whiney. But what can James do? Nothing! So he heads back upstairs to get dressed.
    Once he is dressed and has fixed his hair, James grabs his keys to go. He clutches his keys firmly, so they don’t jingle, and walks quietly past Alex’s door, afraid he’ll open the door and ask where he is going. Not that James really has anything to hide.
    Downstairs, Mom again reminds him to be home by twelve-thirty, and then he’s safely outside. He backs his Jeep out of the driveway. Before he drives off, he looks up to the second floor and sees Alex’s window. The lights are on in Alex’s room, and the closed blinds are parted a little bit. And then the parted blinds drop back in place, and James drives off.
     
    Tyler lives in a newer neighborhood not too far from where James lives. It’s full of big redbrick homes with white trim that all look the same, all with decent-size yards with a few skinny trees here and there that still have a lot of growing to do. By the time James arrives, he sees a number of cars lined up and down the street.
Small party my ass,
he thinks. Nathen had said he was too tired to go—he and Alex had run ten miles and he was beat. So James is flying solo.
    Inside, the party’s in full swing but not too crazy. To his left,