Almost Kings (6 page)

12.

The next morning, Kallea and I rode next to each other on the van ride home. I was hung over, but I didn’t feel bad: Kallea wanted me. The giddy knowledge of it made my body light, as if the world were smaller now and its gravity weaker. We didn’t hold hands and hadn’t talked about what happened yet. Instead, we smiled nervously and rested our bodies against each other as we caught up on sleep.

Back at the school bus ramp, we said goodbye to the rest of the team and walked together to the side of the gym to retrieve our bikes and head home. As I entered my lock’s combination, I saw that Kallea hadn’t started on hers yet.

“Kallea,” I said. “When we kissed—”

“What was that exactly?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

I slipped the lock into my backpack and walked closer to her. She was bundled in her big winter coat again, but he hands were bare and red with the cold.

“You really think Emily is hotter than me?”

“I just wanted to see if you’d flinch,” I said.

“Did I?”

“Yeah.”

“So—” she said, smiling.

“So?”

“So now what?”

I took another step toward her. If I leaned forward, I could kiss her now. How different would it feel sober, out in the cold. Would her lips still be warm? What would her breath taste like without the vodka?

But I didn’t want to do it like that. I wanted to do it right next time—on her doorstep, or in candlelight. Not leaning over a bike, hung-over in the cold.

“Hang out after school tomorrow?” I asked. “Like, food and a movie?”

“Deal. Points for originality.”

“Don’t you know? I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.”

I pulled back my bike and started to walk away, then turned back to see her pulling off her lock with trembling hands.

“Here,” I said as I pulled off my gloves and gave them to her. She smiled and put them on.

Back at home, I found Truck and Lizzie still asleep in our room. The late night and early morning hadn’t hit me until then. Now a wave of tiredness swelled up over me, and I crawled into bed without bothering to take my clothes off.

For the first time since I was a kid, I felt safe, like I’d wake up to the sound of my family making waffles in the kitchen, my mom laughing at some ranch story of my dad’s, the floorboards softly creaking under her footsteps.

I woke to the sound of Truck and Lizzie talking quietly in bed. The blankets had fallen to the floor sometime in the last few hours, and they lay together on the bare bed. She wore one of his big white t-shirts, and he had his head pressed against her stomach as if listening to it.

“It’s saying, ‘Let me out! Let me out!’” whispered Truck, and Lizzie hit him playfully on the shoulder.

“It?” she asked. “Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

My brother rolled over so that he was looking up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know.”

She looked down at him and stroked his hair.

“I think it would be cool to have a girl,” she said. “God knows we don’t need another Wheeler man running around.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just—” She looked over at me, and I wondered if she could tell I was awake. I concentrated on steady breaths, in and out every other second, like sleeping people do. “—I don’t know. There’s just so many guys in your family. A girl would be different, you know?”

“Yeah.”

She brushed her fingers against his face, and he turned his mouth toward her breasts. She giggled, “Stop, stop—he’s sleeping right over—”

A crash sounded from the kitchen, and my father screamed, “God damn it!”

Truck was up and out of the room before I could even kick the blankets off. I ran out into the hall to see my dad out of his chair, a broken glass by his side, and a wet stain of rum against the carpet. He was shaking hard, his jaw clenched. His eyes were terrifyingly alert.

“Which pills?” Truck shouted from the bathroom. I turned to see him holding four different bottles, trying to read each label.

“Anti-seizure,” my dad grunted.

“What color?” my brother shouted.

Truck unscrewed the lids and peered into the bottles. He dropped one, spilling blue-green pills all over the bathroom floor, and cursed loudly. He seemed ready to punch a wall or break a mirror.

“Yellow,” my dad said. A white froth had gathered at the side of his mouth. I couldn’t make myself step closer to him.

Truck dug a yellow pill out of a bottle and leaned over my dad. He lifted his gum with a finger, and stuck the pill in, pushing it to the side of his mouth and around his back teeth.

“Water,” Dad grunted at me, and I ran to the kitchen to get some. I filled a plastic cup halfway, ran back, and leaned over to put it to his lips. He gulped once, even as most of the water spilled to the ground around him.

A long minute passed, and his shaking subsided. He shifted his jaw back and forth a little, the teeth grinding, and eventually parted them.

“You’re a good boy, Teddy,” he said. “You’re a good boy. You take care of me.”

I wiped the spit from his lips and chin as Truck and Lizzie soaked up the whiskey with paper towels and picked up the broken glass.

That Monday, as I sat in history, I heard a tap at the window glass and looked out to see Hass smiling in at me. Behind him stood Reggie, Wood, and my brother. The period was almost over, and I’d already finished my in-class five-paragraph essay on the French Revolution. I raised my hand.

“Mr. Marshall, can I go to the bathroom?”

He raised a bushy eyebrow and looked down at me over the top of his glasses.

“I don’t know,
can
you?”

“I think so. You want me to try right here?”

He laughed.

“You may go.”

Outside, Hass put an arm around me, and started leading me toward the student parking lot. It was the first sunny day we’d had in weeks, and the sun burned too bright in the sky, as if compensating for taking the last month off.

“We’re taking a little day trip,” he said. “You want in?”

I looked over at my brother, checking for permission.

“Your last class is study hall, right?” he asked.

“You’re going to let me skip it?”

“Just this once. If you want to come.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I want to come.” Then, remembering, I added, “But I’ve got a date right after school.”

The guys looked at each other, smirking.

“Bug’s got a date,” said Reggie.

“I thought you Wheelers only took girls out on dates
after
you got them knocked up,” Wood joked. “You slip one in that little chick of yours?”

“You fucked that girl on the Quiz Bowl trip?” asked Hass.

“Almost,” I said. “We kissed.”

“Slow-playing it. Nice,” said Hass. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you back in time for your little date.”

We drove up through the hills, into one of the forests near town. Crammed into the back of the Ford with Wood and Reggie, I felt small, but not like I might have at the start of the year. I got the passenger side seat. Reggie sat bitch. He still hadn’t scored.

We curled around the far side of the mountain to South Valley. It was always sunnier over here, and the guys rolled down to windows to let the warm air in until Truck turned onto a dirt road and the wheels started kicking up dust.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Hass smiled.

“You’ll see.”

After another mile, we pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the Ford. We were in the middle of nowhere—nothing but dusty pines in either direction, not so much as a footpath leading into the forest.

“You sure this is the place?” asked Reggie.

“Hell yes,” said Hass. “Follow me.”

Hass led us through the trees. The ground was uneven and covered in a thick layer of dry needles, so that we kept slipping as we followed. The light filtered down unevenly through the branches, forcing my eyes to adjust in and out of darkness.

“Middle of fucking nowhere,” Reggie complained, slipping again. “Don’t they got trails out here?”

“You can barely walk on the sidewalk, Chubs,” said Wood, and the rest of us laughed. The guys had stripped down to tank tops and I realized for the first time that everyone but Reggie had the crown brand. 

After a few more minutes of walking, the trees began to thin and we entered a bright field full of tall green stalks that came up to my chest. The guys walked up to the plants and breathed in deeply, suddenly giggly as schoolgirls.

“Holy shit,” said Reggie. “These are fucking huge.”

“Exactly,” said Hass. “I’m sure whoever’s growing them won’t miss a couple of ounces.”

He pulled a couple of big plastic bags out from the pocket of his jeans, handed me one, and started pulling buds off the plants.

“You might want to hurry up,” he said. “The guys growing this shit might not take too kindly to us stealing their goodies.”

My heart raced even as I started filling my bags with buds. I didn’t have to ask what we were taking. We picked frantically, and my fingers stung. Everyone was quiet, as if worried our voices might give us away.

A shot rang out.

“Fuck,” said Hass. “Fuck.”

He started running back the way we’d come, out through the forest, scrambling on the dry needles. Reggie and my brother followed. I dropped my bag and took off after them.

Another shot rang out, and Truck went down, clutching his thigh.

“Damn it,” he shouted. “God damn it.”

The guys looked back but kept running. I caught up to Truck and knelt down.

“Get up,” I said. “Come on.” He wouldn’t take his hands off of his thigh, and I tried to pull him up, but he was too heavy. “Now. Get up!”

Another shot echoed through the trees. I pulled at Truck’s shoulders.

“Jesus,” I said. “Get up!”

And then he started laughing. I turned around to see Wood holding a rifle pointed up in the air, a huge smile on his face. Reggie and Hass were jogging back toward us, whooping and laughing as they approached.

“You saved me little bro,” said Truck, getting to his feet and revealing a wound-free leg.

“Fuck you guys,” I said. “Seriously.”

“Aw, come on Bug,” said Hass. “You did good. Now come on. Let’s finish grabbing a few more handfuls before the guys who run this place come back for real.”

My brother brushed pine needles off of his back and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Seriously,” he said. “You did good.”

An hour later, we sat on the back of the Ford and watched the sun play against a lake as we passed my brother’s pipe up and down the line. The guys talked about their latest scores, and how Miller was a bitch and always had been one and how they were pretty sure he was going to ask for points for bagging some freshman dudes.

My brother had an arm around my shoulders and said, “Listen to this song. Listen to this song!” I was high as hell, and for the first time, Linkin Park actually sounded good. I picked out the bass, then guitar, then drums, able to listen to only one instrument at a time, as if a whole song was too much to hold in my mind all at once.

The lake in front of us went on forever, but the world seemed no bigger than the five of us, sitting in the sun, surrounded by evergreens, as if it was still summer and it always would be.

I didn’t think of Kallea then, though I would later, when the high wore off that night. I never did find out how long she must have waited by the gym, but she called at least three times, at 3:05, 3:13 and 3:37 while I was in the hills with no signal. She only left a message, the first time: “Hey, Ted. I’m here. Where are you?”

13.

I sat next to Kallea at Quiz Bowl practice the next day and pulled a Twix out of my backpack. It was the best peace offering I could afford.

“Your favorite, right?” I asked, setting it on the table in front of her.

She wouldn’t even look at me. She read over a list of Latin American countries and their capitals, quietly mouthing each: “Peru, Lima. Ecuador, Quito. Uruguay, Montevideo.”

The warm weather had persisted, and she wore a yellow top with tiny straps that showed off her thin, freckled shoulders. I imagined kissing them, something that had seemed so possible a day earlier.

“Come on,” I said.

She kept her eyes on the sheet but seemed to lose track of where she was and repeated herself.

“You shouldn’t buy stuff for me,” she said after a few seconds.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

She picked up her things and left the candy bar where it was.

“It’s not that serious,” she said, standing. She walked to a nearby table and sat down next to Emily.

Mrs. Gibbons walked in, her arms full of fresh study materials and a huge smile on her face.

“Okay, team. Hot off our success in Crescent City, I’m looking for us to keep our roll going. I’ve got stuff on Supreme Court justices, opera, American Lit and more. Divide yourself up into two teams. Winner gets pizza next week.”

I walked up to where Kallea and Emily were sitting.

“Hey, Emily,” I said. “Want to join forces?”

She smiled widely and started tapping a foot nervously. I wondered if I’d ever been that obvious about liking someone.

“Definitely.”

“Em,” said Kallea. “Remember? You said you’d be with me.”

Emily looked heartbroken, but Kallea shot me an angry look.

“Sorry, Ted,” Emily said. “I promised Kallea first.”

“Sure,” I said. “It’s cool.”

“Sorry,” she said again. “I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah. Really, no worries.” I felt like I’d kicked a kitten. “It’s fine.”

When I got home that day, the Kings were in the backyard, smoking weed from the day before and sipping on beers while they took turns tossing a knife at my dad’s dartboard. As I walked in, Hass handed me a half-empty bottle of whiskey, and I raised it high, downing as much as I could in a gulp.

“Damn, Bug, what’s got into you?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I took another drink.

Wood tossed the knife, but it stuck handle-first and clattered to the ground.

“Clearly you are not a ninja,” said Reggie.

“Yeah, more of a samurai, really,” said Wood as he picked up the blade and checked it for nicks. I pulled my Swiss Army knife out of my pocket and flicked it open, examining it in the sun.

“You got plans tonight?” asked Hass. “Any more Quiz Bowl matches.”

“Nope.”

“Well, we’re planning a little get-together over at Reggie’s place. Not a full-out party. Just bringing a couple of girls up. Maybe you could bring one too.”

All I could think about was the way Kallea had ignored me earlier that day. I’d been so close to making her mine, but she’d never be with me now. I kept replaying the way she’d stood up and moved to the other table with Emily and the hateful look she’d shot me. How could love turn so quickly to that deep malice? And just because I’d been a little late. Well, okay. If Kallea was that fickle, she wasn’t worth the hurt. If that was how she wanted to play it, fine. There were other girls.

“I know someone,” I said.

“Hear that?” asked Hass. “He knows someone.”

“Do I know this someone?” asked Wood. “Maybe I’d like to get to know this someone.”

“You got anything to drink up at your place?” Hass asked Reggie.

“Yeah. My parents restocked the bar last week. It’s loaded.”

“Couple of fucking alcoholics,” said Wood, swigging whiskey.

“Definitely.”

Hass tossed the knife at the dartboard and hit for eighteen. The Kings cheered, raised their drinks, and chanted, “Ninja. Ninja. Ninja.” I took out my cell, scrolled down to Emily’s number, and hit dial.

That night Truck and I walked to the Ford to pick up Emily. As I opened the passenger-side door, he reached into his pocket and told me to hold up for a second. When I turned, I saw he was holding out the keys.

“You’re driving,” he said, pressing them into my hand.

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” he said. “It’s an automatic. Just point it where you want to go and hit the gas. Anyway, I’m still drunk. It’s safer this way, right?”

“Maybe.”

“Look. What girl ever slept with a guy who couldn’t even drive her around? This is your night, little brother, I can feel it. Finally stepping up.”

I looked back at the Ford. I’d always wanted to get behind the wheel.

“What about the cops?”

He shrugged. “Drive slow. And one more thing.” He took out a condom a slid it into the front pocket of my jeans. “Don’t fuck up like I did. Girls’ll tell you they’re on the pill or some line about their cycle. Don’t trust ‘em. You got to always wrap it up.”

I put a hand in my pocket and felt the condom’s foil wrapper press against the squishy latex inside.

“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”

An hour later, I sat next to Emily is Reggie’s rec room, as we watched the Kings shoot pool and drink. Only a couple of girls besides Emily had come. They were Gina Stephenson and Pearl Tan, a six and an eight, respectively, neither of them virgins. Hass and Wood were teaching them how to hold the cue and line up shots. Classic move, and obvious, but it worked. The guys pressed their bodies up against the girls from behind and wrapped their rough fingers around the girls’ soft hands.

“You could fit my whole house in this room,” said Emily staring up at the vaulted ceiling. Her cheeks were over-rouged and her lip gloss outshone the pool balls. I wondered if her equally-clueless older sister had helped her get ready. Her short skirt revealed her thin, perfect legs, but she still wore her usual long-sleeved shirt, refusing to show off her shoulders or breasts.

“My house too,” I said.

“My parents used to own that whole tract of land out by Little Basin,” said Reggie, lining up a shot. “They sold it a few years back right before the bubble burst, built this place, and had plenty left over. Now they’re out of town most of the time.”

“This is your place?” asked Pearl, suddenly interested.

“That’s right.”

“It’s his parents’
place,” said Hass, putting an arm around the girl’s waist. “He just happens to live here, is all.”

“A toast,” said Wood, pouring vodka into a set of eight shot glasses. “To Reggie’s parents.”

We each took a shot glass and downed it, except Emily. She took a small sip and looked up at me with her big, mascared eyes.

“What do I do?” she asked. “I’ve never done a shot.”

“You drink it,” I said. “It’s good stuff, but you still don’t want to sip it. Toss it down the back of your throat.”

Emily opened her mouth, tilted back her head, and tipped back the shot glass. She made a face and coughed as everyone else laughed. Truck handed her a wine cooler and said, “Here, this’ll wash away the taste.” She sipped thankfully.

“How many bedrooms does this place have?” asked Pearl.

“Six beds, seven-and-a-half baths,” said Reggie.

“You want a tour?” asked Hass.

He took Pearl’s hand, and started to lead her out of the room. As he did, he turned to grin back at Reggie, who mouthed “I hate you.”

“Come on,” Wood said to Gina, following Hass’s queue. “You’ve got to see the master bathroom. They got a mini hot tub in there.”

Emily was still sipping her wine cooler. I thought about asking her if she wanted a tour, too, but it seemed overly-transparent, and she was only on her second drink. Reggie shot pool, knocking each ball as hard as he could, probably pretending they were Hass’s face. Truck nudged me with his elbow and nodded at Emily, indicating I should get on with it. I sat frozen. After a few seconds, he got up and walked to the door.

“Hey, Reggie,” he said. “Let’s go get more beer.”

“We’ve got plenty,” said Reggie.

“Yeah. We’re going to need more.” Truck nodded over at me and Emily, and Reggie put down his cue.

“Sure, Truck,” he said, reaching for his coat. He followed my brother out of the room, talking about a new winter beer he wanted to try. Emily and I were alone.

“I feel light—and hot,” she said, and I looked at her mostly-full wine cooler.

“You’ve only had one drink.”

“Should we have more?” she asked.

“If you want to get drunk.”

She sipped her wine cooler, and her lips shimmered with gloss and wet.

“I want to get drunk with you.”

I took the vodka bottle and poured another shot for each of us.

Three drinks later, I found the courage to give Emily a tour of the place and led her to the closest bedroom. As we went inside, I closed the door behind us and locked it shut. She flopped down on the bed, her blonde curls spreading out like a halo behind her.

“I can’t believe—” She trailed off. I sat on the bed next to her. Her skirt seemed shorter than ever, like if I lifted it a couple of inches I’d see her panties.

“What?” I asked.

She propped herself up on her elbows, then leaned forward. I put an arm behind her and helped lift her up so that she was sitting next to me on the bed.

“I can’t believe I’m here with you. Ted Wheeler. I told my parents I was staying over at Kallea’s—”

My reflection started at me from the mirror across the room. For a second, I swear it looked like Kallea, watching to see what I’d do.

“Your face,” said Emily. “Your face has interesting bone structure. Perfectly symmetrical. But your haircut makes it look crooked.”

“Thanks.” I turned away from the mirror to look at her.

“You’re welcome.”

Her eyes were half closed and her lips parted. The room was dark, lit only by moonlight pouring in from the open windows. Emily looked even prettier than the seven we’d written in the book.

“Ted, are you going to kiss me?”

She was so close that I only had to turn my head. Her lips were right there. The wet gloss of them felt cold, and when I reached for her tongue with mine I accidentally licked her teeth. Still, her body was warm against mine, and I started getting hard. I reached up with my right hand and cupped one of her small breasts.

“I shouldn’t—” she said.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, right?”

She fell back onto the bed and started laughing. The hand I’d used to feel her up hung stupidly in the air.

“Four drinks,” she said. “Four drinks is a lot, right?”

I bent over and started kissing her neck. She laughed again.

“That tickles,” she said.

“It feels good though, right?”

“The room. Is. Spinning. Spin, spin, spin. Kiss me again. Ha! That rhymes.” I put my hand around her breast and squeezed it lightly. She let out a quick gasp and started giggling again. “But really. Kiss me again. Makes the spinning stop.”

I reached my hand down and started moving it up her leg until I felt the soft cotton of her underwear. I was painfully hard in my jeans, pressed up against the zipper. She turned her face to the side.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “You’re perfect.”

I carefully adjusted myself and unzipped my pants.

“Emily,” I said.

She was breathing heavily.

“Emily.”

Her eyes were closed. Her lips parted.

“Hey, Emily?”

She was asleep.

I sat on the side of the bed and zipped my pants back up. I wasn’t hard anymore anyway. I put a hand in my pocket and felt the condom, destined to go unused, and thought about how close I’d come to doing it.

Outside, the knock of pool balls, one against the other, had resumed, and Reggie’s laugh boomed through the empty halls. I walked out of the bedroom and back toward the guys. In the living room, Reggie and my brother were shooting pool. They’d lined up eight shot glasses each and were pounding one whenever the other guy sank a ball.

“Little brother!” shouted Truck, beaming wide. “How’d it go?”

“She passed out,” I said.

Reggie scratched the cue ball and scowled. He took a shot and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“Yeah?” Truck asked. “So what?”

“So I can’t—”

“Sure you can,” he said. “That girl wants you so bad, little brother. She’s probably dreaming of you inside her right now.” He only got like that, talkative, when he got drunk. “You can think and think and think if you let yourself. But sometimes you just got to do it. Just go get it done with, okay? You’ll feel better after you do.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Okay.”