Breakaway (10 page)

“You could have gone,” Chick said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, playing dumb.

“With Alexis. I heard her asking you to go to the skate rally.” The way he said it, I knew he had heard more than just her asking me to go.

“She's kind of whiny,” I said. “If I'd gone, I would have been stuck with her all night.”

“You think there's a girl out there who will ever want to be with me?” Chick asked, looking up at me, the hurt in his eyes so clear that I had to look away. “I mean, not because of my looks or anything. I know no one would ever be into me because of my looks. But maybe I could find someone who's … into me.”

“Of course,” I said, but it sounded so weak and uncertain that I knew I was failing Chick. As his friend I should have been able to think of a dozen reasons why someone would want to be with him.

“You remember that time Jordie had a party when his parents were out of town?” Chick asked but didn't wait for any response before saying, “That girl Crystal was there. Man, she was fucking beautiful. You got wasted. Drank a shit ton of Four Loko and you ended up puking on her shoes.”

I smiled to myself, remembering. “Shit. Yeah. I had forgotten about that. She was wearing a practically brand-new pair of designer shoes and I destroyed them. Who knew puke could come out that color, huh?”

He didn't laugh at my joke and said, “The next day, you saw her at the pool and she totally hooked up with you. Even though you threw up all over her, ruined her shoes and everything.”

“I saw her the next day,” I said, filling in the blanks of the story. “Went up to apologize to her about her shoes. Offered to pay to replace them. Thank God she said it was okay, that she had been able to clean them. There was no way I could have paid to replace them anyway.”

“You puked all over her shoes and she hooked up with you anyway. Just because of the way you look. Because girls think you're hot.”

“Whatever, man,” I said, unsure where this conversation was going. “She liked that I apologized, offered to pay to replace her shoes. All we did was make out.”

“You think if I had puked on a girl's shoes at a party and went to apologize the next day, she would end up making out with me?” Chick asked, like a challenge.

He had me there. I wasn't sure what to say. “Maybe not,” I said, and he snorted in agreement.

“I know most people think I'm a total freak,” Chick said, hurting himself with his own words and I tried to think of a way to end the conversation.

“I don't think most people give enough of a shit about anyone to spend much time thinking about it either way,” I said, hearing the bitterness creep into my voice. “And anyone who thinks that about you is a fucking asshole anyway, so don't worry about it.”

“It's true. I'm a freak.” He shrugged one shoulder in an effort to show indifference, but it just came across as awkward and sad. “Freakishly small, freakishly ugly, freakishly freakish.” He smiled at that but it wasn't a happy smile. More like a smile of miserable acceptance.

“Don't say that,” I snapped at him. “Who gives a fuck what other people think anyway?”

“Mm,” he murmured, and the silence that settled between us was thick with tension. I didn't want to ask if he had overheard Alexis's comments about him being creepy. And anyway, even if he had, I wouldn't know what to say about it. It's not like any of it was untrue, that Chick was small for his age, that he was socially awkward, especially around girls.

I was a virgin by choice, but it's not like I had never been with a girl, like I couldn't get laid if I wanted to. With Chick, there was no choice, though he had never confided any feelings he had about himself to me before now. What was there to say?

An hour later I was wishing I had ditched Chick and left with Alexis and her friends to go to the skate rally. Not because of our awkward conversation about his physical and social shortcomings, but because of the movie he had chosen for us to see. I had never given horror movies much thought before—could sit through all the gore and violence and parts that were supposed to make you jump, and it had never bothered me.

The first part of the movie was okay. But once the zombies started to show up, I couldn't keep my mind off Sylvia, her actual physical person, the way she must look by now, in her grave on the other side of town. I would never have thought about how Sylvia being dead could affect so many things in my life—like how I couldn't even watch a movie with zombies or dead people in it without getting sick about it.

I spent the whole time with my stomach aching and sweat beading on my forehead while I kept thinking,
Jesus, that's what Sylvia looks like now
. A fucking zombie corpse. And I had to go to the bathroom until I could calm the fuck down and get my mind to stop racing. The whole time I kept wondering how long this was going to last, how long before I would start to feel normal again, start to feel like everything I said or did wasn't some potential land mine for being miserable.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When Jordie called me that Saturday morning to see if I wanted to go to the National Mall to find a pickup soccer game, I had just assumed he would call Mario and Chick too, but it was just the two of us who ended up going. It occurred to me that recently I had seen all three of my friends, just never at the same time. Jordie I saw out at parties and at soccer but he was never available anymore to go to the movies or just hang out and have a few beers down at the park.

I hadn't seen much of Mario, who now spent most of his time out with Travis and his other tree thugger friends. Mario's hair had gotten longer and shaggier and now he wore crystals around his neck and every other fashion choice that offered clear evidence he was smoking a lot of pot and listening to bad electronic music. We used to make fun of people who listened to Disco Biscuits, and now he was one of those douche bags.

It was early when Jordie picked me up and drove us toward the north side of town to catch the Metro.

“I don't know what I should do, Jaz,” Jordie was saying as he drove. “I mean, we have been going out almost every night for three weeks, so it isn't as if it would be weird if I asked her not to see other people. But it's not like you ask a girl to
go
with you after junior high school. How are we supposed to become a couple?”

“I think people just start to assume when you are together that much that you are a couple. For God's sake don't ask her to go steady or anything lame like that,” I said. My mind wasn't really on Jordan's problem. I didn't think much of his relationship with Cheryl and didn't expect for it to last very long anyway.

“I saw you eating lunch with Alexis in the cafeteria the other day,” Jordie said. “Man, to hear her tell it, you guys are like boyfriend and girlfriend now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked with a frown. “I'm not into Alexis at all.”

“You're telling me you aren't sleeping with her?” he asked skeptically.

“I'd sleep with your mom before I slept with Alexis.”

“Piss off,” he said as he shoved my shoulder. “Anyway, your mom is the one who's a MILF.”

“You need your head examined,” I said.

“What?” Jordie asked in all innocence. “Your mom's young. What is she, like thirty-five? She's hot, man.”

“Stop talking or I'm going to bust your lip,” I said. We rode in silence for a while as I tried to think of a casual way to ask about Raine. Jordie hadn't mentioned her lately, hadn't said anything about our failed double date. When I did mention her, it came across as just idle conversation. “I ran into Raine the other night at the library.”

“Yeah, she mentioned it,” Jordie said. I wanted to ask him what she had said, why she had mentioned it, but I didn't want to seem too interested.

“She was there with some guy. Brian. You know him?” My question was casual but Jordie raised an eyebrow before answering.

“Yeah, from the club. He goes to W and L,” he said.

“They a couple?” I asked, now realizing that no matter how casual my tone was, it was still obvious I was showing way too much interest in Raine.

“I don't think so,” Jordie said. “Brian's had a thing for her since we were all in middle school but I'm not sure she feels the same. Besides, she's got a thing for you.”

“For me?” I asked in surprise. “Are you joking? She hates my ass.”

“Why do you think Cheryl made me set it up so we went on a double date for our first date?” Jordie asked. “That was because Raine wanted to get with you.”

“You're crazy,” I said dismissively, but my mind was working overtime.

“If you say so,” Jordie said with a shrug.

Just about every girl at school had shown an interest in me since Sylvia died. Mostly I figured they just wanted some of the glory of the spotlight, to be noticed. Maybe Raine wasn't any different, but since she was already beautiful and rich, she didn't really need any help from me to be popular.

Jordie parked near the Metro station and then we rode the train downtown. That day we ended up finding two pickup games on the Mall—one with a group of older South American guys I had played with before when I was with Mario, the other with a group of guys our age who were all really good.

After the games we stopped for empanadas and sat on the patio in the sun to eat them before catching the Metro back home.

“You talked to Mario?” Jordie asked me as we stood in the train car for the ride home.

“Not really. He's buzzing all the time lately.”

“What the hell is he thinking?” Jordie asked.

“I guess he's not,” I said.

“He's got the rest of his fucking life to be off chops,” Jordie said with disgust. “Why the hell is he messing with that shit now? Right in the middle of season?”

My tongue burned with a sharp retort. Jordie wasn't really concerned about Mario or his health. He was only worried about how Mario's using would impact our soccer record. When it was just Mario and me, Mario would often complain about Jordie in the same way—thought Jordie was stuck up and a narcissist. Which maybe was true, though it wasn't really Jordie's fault. He had just been raised privileged, an only child, used to the idea that everyone should give a fuck about how his life turned out. He would never understand where Mario was coming from, and I wasn't going to be the one to explain it to him.

When I got home that afternoon, Ma and Aunt Gladys were sitting at the rickety dining room table, a pot of coffee and two mugs between them. Aunt Gladys's hand was on Mom's arm, but she pulled away as I came into the room. I kicked off my shoes and went to get a glass of water from the tap.

“Hi, Jason,” Aunt Gladys said when it became obvious Mom and I had nothing to say to each other. “I'm glad you're home.”

I leaned one shoulder against the kitchen doorway and waited for her to continue. “I was thinking,” Aunt Gladys said, her voice softening as she spoke to Mom, “that if you aren't feeling up to it, Jason and I could clean out Sylvia's things. Box up some of the clothes. Maybe move some of Jason's things into the room so he could have the space.”

Ma lifted her bloodshot eyes to look at me and I looked at the tops of my feet.

“Box up her things?” Ma asked.

“Well, not everything, of course,” Aunt Gladys said quietly. “Just … I thought a little change might do you some good. Maybe do you both some good.”

“Is that what you want, Jason?” Mom asked me, her voice hard and tight. “To throw out your sister's things?”

Aunt Gladys jumped in before I could answer, “Of course he doesn't, Claire. No one's talking about throwing out her things. But you have to … you have to accept that Sylvia is gone. You have to move on with your life.”

Mom started to cry and covered her mouth with her hand, as if to hold the grief inside her head. She didn't want to let it go, wanted to just go on being miserable forever. In the weeks since Sylvia died, things hadn't changed at all. Mom's sadness never got any better, only worse.

“Why don't you just drop it?” I said to Aunt Gladys, more harshly than I had meant.

“I'm just trying to help,” Aunt Gladys said as she held her hands wide in supplication.

“How?” Mom asked. “By telling me to forget about my daughter? She was
my daughter
for Christ's sake. I never did one thing to make her life better. And now she's gone. Because of me. You can't possibly understand. You don't understand what Jason and I are going through.”

“Don't drag me into this,” I said with a sigh as I gave up on the idea of being able to relax in my own house.

“I didn't come over here to start a fight, Claire,” Aunt Gladys said, losing patience.

I felt trapped, stuck there listening to them argue. The only two places I could go to get away from them was the bathroom, though there were limits to how long I could reasonably stay in there, or Sylvia's room, where all I could do was hang out with Syl's ghost.

Sometimes I thought about it that way, Syl following me from room to room, watching over my shoulder. I tried not to let my mind think that way because if she could see me anytime she wanted that meant she could also see me when I jerked off in the shower. And there is nothing creepier in this world than the thought of your sister's ghost seeing you jerk off in the shower. Just like how I couldn't even think about going to a horror movie like the one I had seen with Chick. Maybe I would never be able to see a horror movie again without thinking about Sylvia.

I tried to populate my mind with some kind of happy memory about Sylvia so I wouldn't get caught up in dwelling on her watching over my shoulder or thinking about her as just a dead body, but it was hard. There weren't many happy memories to conjure from my childhood. Instead I would try to picture Sylvia the way she looked when I would see her around school—laughing with her friends in the hallways or the cafeteria, something like that.