Cinnamon Toast and the End of the World (28 page)

I’m not sure what happened next.

There was a strong smell of mould and I was in the basement – a dark place with concrete floors, walls that were made of stone
and wept trickles of water. I was standing over a white double sink. Somebody turned on the tap and shoved my head under.
Lana.

I started to calm down. Then I noticed ribbons of red in the porcelain, fading to rust as they swirled down the drain. Blood
from my hand. I was dissolving. Lana hauled me up by the hair, held my palm under the thundering cold water. I watched the
blood welling up and disappearing.

‘Don’t touch that, Lana.’ She ignored me, jerked my arm towards her and dabbed at my hand with a battered fragment of Kleenex.
It bloomed into red as the blood soaked it. ‘Don’t,’ I said again. ‘It’s contaminated.’

‘Didn’t know stupidity was blood communicable.’ She took a flat pink square from her purse and ripped off the plastic wrapping.
It unfolded into a rectangle of white. She pressed it against my palm.

‘Not what I meant.’

‘I know. You don’t have AIDS, you moron.’

‘No, that’s okay. I don’t need any,’ I said, as if she were selling it door to door. ‘Mark’s gonna kill me.’ I went rambling
on. ‘He beat me up with a bunch of guys in June. Now he’s gonna kill me. And then I’ll die.’

There was a roll of duct tape on a dusty ledge by the sink. Lana grabbed it and tore off a length with her teeth. ‘In that
case you should
go home, right? Like, now. And stop making such an almighty ass of yourself.’ She wound the tape around my hand in a tight
bandage.

Just then I realised where she got the white rectangle she’d used for gauze. ‘Aw, Lana! Is that a maxi pad? Get it off!’

‘Come on. Not like it’s used.’ She was laughing up at me. ‘Besides, it’ll keep you safe. In case you fall.’

‘Why?’

‘It has wings, dummy!’ Lana gave me a smacking kiss on the cheek. ‘Now I think you’ve done enough damage for one night. Time
to go home.’

‘Nah. I’ll be fine.’ I was backing towards the stairs. They were steep and wooden, with nail heads craning out. I stumbled
against them and had to sit down.

I wouldn’t let Lana take me home. Mark was still here. We had unfinished business. I clambered up the steps. Then I was barging
through rooms and hallways, tripping over people’s feet, looking over my shoulder for Lana coming after me, or for Mark. Every
time I bumped into a girl, I’d apologise, then grab her ass or her boobs. Most of them went ‘Hey!’ And I’d get shoved and
smacked. Some grabbed me back. I laughed.

I dragged myself to the second floor. It was dark and all the doors were closed. No, not all of them. There was one at the
end of the corridor, ajar with a crack of light spilling out. I heard voices. Mark and Stacey. Thick orange shag carpet muffled
each footfall.

‘Look, Stace,’ Mark was saying, ‘I told you I don’t want to hear it. There’s enough rumours in this stupid little town. Bunch
of dickheads were saying I molested my sister just cause I drive her to ballet class …’

I was outside the door now, trying not to breathe too loudly. I couldn’t hear what Stacey was saying. Mark was getting irritated.

‘Okay. He’s weird. He’s a nervous person. But what can you expect? His father left and I think both the parents were disowned
or something, cause there’s no grandparents, no cousins. Just his mom. And me. That’s all he’s got.’ Her voice in reply was
low and full of contempt. He answered.

‘Yeah, well, I’m not gonna believe it if I hear it from Phil or Randy. Or Tina. Or you either. I’ll believe it when I hear
it from him.’ Then the subject shifted to Pam, and he was calling himself all kinds of names, telling Stacey he was going
to be a different person from now on.

I turned and inched my way back to the stairs, crippled with shame. Maybe Evan had it all wrong, about Mark being one of those
guys in the bathroom. Mark was right. You couldn’t believe every stupid rumour you heard. I should have trusted my friend.

Downstairs, flying, nearly falling on my face. I got lost in a haze of people. Couples in corners were kissing in this aggressive,
down-the-throat way. A girl shrieked, ‘Don’t! No, don’t!’ In the kitchen the drawers hung open, and somebody was taking all
the food out of the fridge. Somebody else picked up a bottle and smashed it against the wall.

That was me.

Then Lana was apologising to everybody, gripping my elbow and pulling me towards the door. I tried to squirm out of her grasp.

‘No, Lana. You don’t want to go home yet. Robin Fitzgerald’s here. You’ve always wanted to fuck him, right?’ Oops. Robin was
behind us, drawing a dartboard on the wall with lipstick. He turned and leered at Lana in an encouraging way.

She walloped me on the back. My feet skidded and I almost fell. But I didn’t hit the floor. Somebody else was holding my other
arm, pulling me upright. Not Lana this time. Mark.

‘Don’t worry. I got experience with this,’ he was saying. ‘Stephen, you’re fucked up. Come on home.’

‘I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.’ Lana was staring into my eyes like she was trying to tell me something. ‘Remember
in the basement? When you said … somebody was going to kill you? I mean, was that a joke or—’

‘Aw, c’mon.’ I took a reeling step towards Lana, threw myself around her and held on tight. ‘I was kidding back there,’ I
mumbled into her hair. ‘I was full of it.’ I shifted back and planted a smeary kiss on her forehead. ‘I love you, okay? Just
remember I loved you.’

‘I don’t like the sound of that …’

‘Come on, asshole.’ Mark hauled me forwards. I let go of Lana, watched her receding as I moved away.

‘Bye!’ Held up my bandaged silver hand in a wave.

‘You drive me insane,’ Lana said quietly. ‘Utterly insane. Please be careful.’

I left my girl standing in the hallway. Stumbled off with my guy. Mark was talking to Stacey over his shoulder, saying he’d
meet up with her later.

Yeah, later. But first you’re gonna deal with me, McAllister. Finish this one way or another. Tonight.

Trucks hurdled by and blasted through the silence. I was sitting on the bench slats of a picnic table, its wooden surface
coated with industrial brown paint, slumping forwards with my head between my knees.

‘I’m gonna puke.’

‘No, you’re not.’ Something was bumping against my lip. The edge of a paper cup, scratchy lid with its torn-off tab of plastic,
steam rising and making me confused about where the liquid ended and the air began. Black coffee. Mark tipped some into my
mouth and I had to drink.

I raised my head. It was the parking lot outside Tim Horton’s. We were at the town limits. ‘What am I doing here?’

‘You …’ He was beside me on the picnic table, holding the coffee cup, trying not to laugh. ‘You sat right down a couple minutes
ago and I couldn’t get you to move. Kept saying how you were gonna puke.’

‘I
am
gonna puke.’

‘Drink your coffee.’ He pressed the cup into my hand. I didn’t drop it.

Neither of us said anything for a while. I counted the customers in
the windows, huddled at their tables lit with stern fluorescent-white like subjects in an experiment. Then I had to stop counting
and concentrate all my energy on not throwing up.

Mark’s voice in the semi-dark, orange firefly glow of his cigarette. ‘Tina was saying a lot of shit about you, man. Stacey
too. I told them I didn’t believe it.’

‘Stacey kicked my ass.’ I muttered this into the cornfields where the parking lot ended.

‘You deserved it. I can’t believe you told her about Pam. And Darla too? What the fuck were you thinking?’

I pretended to drink out of my cup. It was empty now. ‘Just came out.’

‘Is that right.’

He was waiting for an apology. Well, of course. Guys don’t tell on guys, not for stuff like that. Guys don’t get in cat fights
with each other’s girlfriends either. I dug my fingers into the back of my neck, eyes on the ground. Told him I was sorry.

‘Damage is done now.’ Mark took a pint bottle from his jean jacket. It looked like whiskey. ‘You really shouldn’t push her
like that. Stacey’s under a lot of stress. Her body’s under a lot of stress.’

‘Seemed strong enough to me.’

Mark took a swig. I watched his throat moving. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gazed off into the rustling fields.

‘Stephen,’ he said, ‘she’s pregnant. Stacey’s pregnant.’

Like something smacking into the side of my head. Was I supposed to congratulate him? The hand with the duct tape bandage
was sticking to me.

‘Jesus Christ, Mark. You’re only seventeen.’

‘I’m eighteen. Birthday last month. Remember?’

My throat felt like part of a machine, metal plates shifting and sparking off each other as I tried to swallow.

‘Are you gonna marry her?’

‘In a couple years.’ He was swinging his feet against the side of the picnic table. ‘That’s okay, isn’t it?’ Looking at me
sidelong. ‘I mean, you don’t think of yourself as a bastard, or illegitimate or whatever, cause your parents waited till after
you were born, right? You don’t blame them.’

‘No. That stuff doesn’t matter.’

His sneakers scuffed against mine. ‘Do you want to be my best man? I know you’ll be busy with college and stuff by then …’

I asked him if he was sure, considering we hadn’t been hanging around a lot. He told me he knew who his real friends were.

‘Course.’ My voice was shaky. ‘Of course I will.’ I pictured myself standing next to Mark in a church. He’d be squirming and
uncomfortable in his tuxedo. She’d be pacing up the aisle wearing white, on her father’s arm, a child toddling along beside
them. And this would be Mark’s whole life. Living in Riverside, working all day at Home Hardware. To support his family.

‘This is so wrong. Mark, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to keep it.’

His face shut down. ‘Are you telling me,’ he said slowly, ‘to abort my kid?’

‘It’s not a kid yet. Just a bunch of cells. And she was smoking and drinking back there. It’s gonna have, like, nine heads.’

He frowned. ‘She told me it’s fine to do that for the first couple months.’

‘She’s an idiot!’ I was on my feet pacing around, too much energy all of a sudden. ‘She’s stupid! She’s a stupid, boring person.’

‘Stephen—’

‘And she doesn’t even know you. You’re just another guy to her.’

‘Stephen, shut up.’ He was standing now, facing me.

‘I asked her if you believe in God and she didn’t have a clue.’

‘So do I?’

‘You …’ I stopped. ‘You want to.’

‘That’s correct.’ Gold liquid in the little bottle sloshed as he took another drink. ‘Guess I should marry you instead, huh?’

My chest felt tight. The people at Tim Horton’s seemed like they were starting to notice us, out here circling each other
in the parking lot. I wanted to put both hands on his shoulders and shove him, start this for real.

‘Bet it’s not even yours.’

He chucked his cigarette away. ‘I am so close to kicking your ass right now.’

‘Oh, go ahead, McAllister. Too bad you don’t have your friends here to help you this time.’

The tension went out of him. Our eyes met for a second. He knew exactly what I was talking about. I was running my hands through
my hair, trying to keep from tearing it out by the handful. I didn’t want to hear him say it. I had to.

‘Were you one of those guys, Mark? In the bathroom at school?’

He exhaled slowly. ‘Yes.’

‘Did you hit me?’

‘I kicked you. And I hit you a couple times. Tried not to make it hurt.’

I stared at our feet. Our sneakers, in various stages of coming apart, laces thick and frayed, the ends soggy with mud.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You think I’m proud of myself here? Five guys jumping a skinny fuck like you? Watching my little brother
get—’

‘Yeah, well, you’re a fucking coward!’ I realised I was still holding
the stupid coffee cup, and I crunched it into a twist of cardboard and plastic. ‘Somebody tells you to do something and you
do it. You’re gonna be a great father, Mark. Wonderful example for little … five-headed Jimmy-Joe-Bob or whoever.’

‘That’s right. You’re a snob. I keep forgetting.’

‘Of course I am. These people are animals!’ I threw the cup away from me, waited for it to smack against the window of the
coffee shop. It sailed through the air and landed with a useless clatter two feet away from Mark.

‘I am “these people”.’ He took one step sideways and kicked the remains of the cup past me and clear onto the highway where
it skittered and bumped along.

‘Right. That’s where you take your orders from anyway.’

‘Orders?’ Mark leaned back, hands in his pockets. Looked me straight in the eye. ‘The whole thing was my idea.’

‘Oh,
fuck
!’ I was stumbling backwards, dizzy. Had to get away from there. Away from Mark. Middle of the highway, I didn’t care.

The blister on my heel was firing up again. He came after me and I couldn’t go fast enough. Felt like the sky was tearing
itself in two, the road wobbling and warping under my feet.

‘Stephen, listen.’ Mark grabbed at my shoulder.

‘Don’t talk to me! Don’t fucking talk to …’

Wooden houses were lining the highway as it morphed into the main street. We were in town. I imagined lights flickering in
the windows, people listening. Mark kept saying my name. My eyes were fixed on the road ahead. We passed the used-car dealership.
Then the high school, towering brick building in the dark.

He was walking backwards in front of me. ‘I’m not gonna apologise. Okay? Far as I’m concerned, I saved your life.’

‘Hey, thanks!’

We were behind the high school. I turned and started off down the middle of the soccer field, hunching forward, lopsided from
my bad foot.

‘What are you doing? That’s not the way home.’ Mark had hold of my arm.

I shook him off. ‘I know. I don’t wanna go home. I don’t … I don’t know what I want.’

He gave me a little shove. I pushed back and missed him, reeled sideways. It seemed like he was holding back a laugh. He strode
along beside me.

‘Look. You were never gonna get hurt. I mean, not seriously. It was the middle of the afternoon. Lots of teachers around.
I even knew it would be Mr Richardson out there in the hall and not Miss Phinney or somebody.’

‘Jesus, you really did plan it.’ I was taking a path through the stretch of long grass on the edge of the field.

Mark slowed his steps to match my limp. He kept going on about the scene in the bathroom. Something about Mr Richardson, and
didn’t I think it was weird, him suddenly showing up like that. Mark told me that was because he’d got some first year to
go and find him, that he’d ducked out for a second to do it while the other guys had me in the stall.

‘The whole thing only lasted a few minutes,’ Mark said. ‘Then you were safe.’

‘Wow, you’re right. I should call Randy and Phil so I can thank them too. Fucker.’ We were skirting the edge of the graveyard.
I knew where I was going. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to be there.

Twigs snapped under my sneakers, then the soft crunch of evergreen needles. We were at the usual place. I couldn’t see the
river, but I could
hear it. Clusters of scrubby trees gave way like a curtain parting on the water, on our lair, this place we’d made together.

He was gripping my arms. ‘Look, you retard. I had to do it. I know the toilet was gross and humiliating and you got banged
up pretty bad. But my idea was the only one I could see you walking away from. The stuff those guys wanted to do …’

I squirmed out of his grasp. ‘So why didn’t you just warn me?’

‘Because I know you, Stephen. You would’ve got so freaked out that you’d be hiding in your house for, like, a year. And it
wouldn’t stop them. They wanted you.’ He glanced around the clearing, frowning, like he thought he’d see Randy and Phil under
the lower branches somewhere. ‘It was weird. I mean, I hate fags too, but I wouldn’t actually plan to go fuck somebody up
just because of that.’ Mark ran a hand through his hair, looked out over the black river with its stuttering stripe of moonlight.
‘Maybe it’s some kind of power thing. Like you can do whatever you want to them cause they’re not real people.’

He was turned away from me. So quiet now.

‘Holy fuck.’ I whispered it. ‘Mark. You really believe that?’

‘Course not. Those
guys, the way they were going on about you, about somebody they grew up with. Like they were talking about killing an animal.’

Sudden panic made me want to laugh. ‘What do you mean, “killing”?’

The river was right in front of us, thirty feet down. It sounded stronger, faster than usual.

‘You would’ve died.’ He glanced back at me. ‘Some of the stuff they were coming out with.’ And he told me what the guys in
the bathroom had really wanted to do to me, or at least talked about doing. Knives.
Baseball bats. My arms fractured, chucked off the railway bridge. Something horrible with a broken bottle. I felt a wave of
nausea sweeping up.

‘I don’t want to hear this shit. I don’t want to hear it.’ I lurched forward. Nearly banged into a tree. I pushed ahead, cursing.
Then Mark had his arms around me and was hauling me back.

‘Fucking moron!’ he said. I looked at the ground in front of my feet. There wasn’t any. I’d nearly charged off the edge of
the drop-off. A couple rocks and clods of dirt went tumbling into the black river. Mark walked us away from the edge until
we were safe.

I’d been half-convinced that this was the night I was going to die. Was it because of this? We stood slumped together, our
weight against a tree with a wide, smooth trunk. Bodies at rest warming each other. He’d let his arms drop, but I was still
clutching his elbow, denim bunching under my fingers. My chin grazed his shoulder. I could smell him. If I let my head fall
forward, my lips would be touching his neck.

‘Jeez, Stephen. You just about killed yourself.’

‘Mark.’ Hardly able to find my voice. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m going to the city. Mom says we need to find me an apartment.’
My breath was coming fast. I was still freaked out over nearly going over the drop-off. And terrified. Of what I was about
to do.

‘That’s great, man. You’ll have your own place.’ He started to shift away from me. I wouldn’t let him go.

‘I’m leaving tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, you said. That’s cool. I’ll come by and visit. Give me a place to stay in the city.’

I just nodded. Sharp-edged and far away, even when he was right in front of me. I leaned in closer. One hand was still ringed
around his arm.
Please don’t freak out, Mark
. I reached up, fingers brushing the
back of his neck. Slightest bit of pressure as I tried to bring his head to meet mine.
Please just go with it
. My face moved towards his. I was shivering. It had turned cold, and I was scared, so scared.

Mark’s eyes widened. He understood.

He understood, and he was stone cold horrified.

Oh, God
.

Mark threw me off, jumped back. My teeth started to knock together. I was sweating. Panic.
Say something. Save this
.

‘Mark, what the fuck, man.’ It came out weird. My throat had closed up. I couldn’t look at him. Twisted grey ghosts of leaves
were lying with the cigarette butts in the roots of the trees. I glanced at Mark, forced myself to. His whole body was tensed,
eyes huge. Staring at me.

‘No.’ My voice was small and distorted. ‘You … you got it all wrong.’ As if I were answering him, though he hadn’t made a
sound. ‘I was … joking. It was just a joke.’ The look on his face. Shock. Revulsion. Fear. My shoulders started to shake,
a steady throb like a pulse. I realised I was crying. I hadn’t even felt it start. I listened to the river. I wanted to die.

‘Jesus,’ Mark said. I wasn’t sure if this was a curse or a prayer. He shut his eyes for a moment. Then he held out one hand,
like he was trying to regain his balance.

‘Okay! Okay. Just calm down.’ Mark’s tone was weirdly familiar. It was how my mother used to sound just after my father left.
When she was trying to put it all back together, go on like nothing was wrong. ‘You … you said you were joking. I believe
you. It was a stupid joke, but now it’s over. Tomorrow you’re gonna go to the city. Find somewhere nice to live. Everything’s
okay.’