Stand-Off (31 page)

Nico nodded, “That's considerate of you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “No fifteen-year-old dude wants to be smitten.”

Then Nico said, “But you really don't need to ride all that way to Pacific City with us just to see me off. It's cool of Seanie to offer the ride. I'll be fine, bro.”

Ugh.
Broed
over breakfast. And Nico was kind of making it clear that we'd probably never even talk to each other again. I don't even know why he came out to Pine Mountain in the first place. Whatever. I hoped that maybe, somehow, he might have felt better about Joey and the school, and the people who loved his brother. So good for you, Nico.

Bro.

I noticed Spotted John and Seanie sitting together at an empty table. And I could tell by how Spotted John was looking at Seanie that something really
was
going on between those two. I was kind of happy for both of them, even if Seanie Flaherty had to be the highest-maintenance boyfriend on the planet.

I said, “Excuse me for a second. I need to go tell Seanie something.”

And Seanie Flaherty looked awkwardly embarrassed and creeped out when I came over and sat down next to him at the table with Spotted John Nygaard. This was a new thing, in so many ways. First, Seanie was always the guy making everyone else feel creeped out; and, second, I could really, really tell there was something “new” going on between Seanie and Spotted John.

I put my arm around Seanie's shoulders.

So Seanie just dropped his eyes down and stared into his swirling bowl of Frosted Flakes as he stirred and stirred. It was gross, because when he did that, I could see the bald spot and the stitches in his scalp.

“Hey, Seanie. Hey, John,” I said in my cheerful-and-everything-is-completely-normal voice, not that everything
wasn't
completely normal—it's just that Seanie Flaherty was always wound up so tight.

“Hi, Ryan Dean,” Spotted John said.

“Hey, dude,” Seanie said.

I looked at Spotted John, then I looked at Seanie. “Can I just say something? No. Can I say
two things
?”

“Counting what you just asked?” Seanie said.

“No. So, okay, maybe three or four things,” I said. “Better yet, let's not count. I don't have a math class this year.”

Spotted John said, “Go for it, Snack-Pack Senior.”

“Okay. Look, I'm not the guy who goes around posting stuff like Internet pictures of my friends while they're passed out in their underwear. I'm not someone who gives up personal details or gossips about other dudes behind their backs. You guys know that about me.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Spotted John asked.

“Those pictures of you were kind of hot, Ryan Dean,” Seanie said.

Now, that sounded like something the old Seanie would have said. And the new Seanie too, come to think of it.

“Yeah. Whatever. Well, what I mean is—I'm glad if you two have something going on. That's really cool.”

Seanie brightened a bit and looked up from his cereal bowl. “Okay. Thanks, dude. So Annie never told you about me?”

I shook my head. “Annie's not like that either.”

“She was the first straight person I came out to. Then I told JP, which is why you don't really see us hanging out together anymore.”

“Yeah. JP. What a stud,” I said.

“I thought it wouldn't matter. We've been friends for so long.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Just remember what Mrs. Blyleven would tell you guys.”

“What?” Spotted John said. “About putting my penis in a vacuum cleaner?”

“Well, she would be proud of you for remembering Commandment Nine, John. And using the word ‘penis' as opposed to ‘something else.' ” I made air quotes when I said “penis” and “something else.” “But I was thinking more about her advice against hooking up, as opposed to building a healthy and equitable, consensual relationship.”

“Ryan Dean?” Seanie asked.

“What?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Um. Okay. That's probably a good idea. But I am happy for you guys, anyway.”

“Whatever,” Seanie said.

“Also, I don't think I should ride with you today when you drive Nico back to Pacific City. I don't think he likes me very much.”

“How much did you
want
him to like you?” Spotted John asked.

I shook my head. “No. Just no, John.”

Then Seanie said, “Dude, I don't really want to go either. I was thinking I'd really just like to stay here at PM this weekend.”

Of course.

I got it. Cotton Balls would be leaving for home. Spotted John always stayed at Pine Mountain on the weekends. Seanie and Spotted John could do whatever they wanted to, which I kind of didn't really want to think about ever again. And then Immature and Selfish Ryan Dean West thought,
It really sucks how easy it is for two guys to fool around here, when me and Annie have to freeze our balls off in that goddamned creek. Well, not Annie's balls. But . . . um . . . you know.

“Well, what about Annie? She's counting on you to drive her to the airport.”

Seanie sighed and looked at Spotted John. Yeah, they definitely had A THING going on, and I was a little jealous. Not of Seanie or Spotted John, but I was jealous. Again.

Bastards.

“Why don't
you
drive?” Seanie said.

“What?”

“Take my car. You know how to drive, right?”

Immature and Selfish Ryan Dean West made certain I didn't
hesitate before answering. “Yeah, of course I can drive, Seanie.”

It wasn't a total lie. Well, to be honest, it pretty much
was
a total lie. But I'd been in cars lots of times and I'd
watched
people—people who actually
knew
how to drive—drive. So, how hard could it be?

“Just don't fuck up my car,” Seanie said.

I was already starting to get scared thinking about driving, and thinking about fucking up Seanie's very expensive car. But Immature and Selfish Ryan Dean West was thinking about tricking Nico into drinking lots and lots of water and coffee, then ditching Nico at a pee stop so Immature and Selfish Ryan Dean West could have actual sex with Annie in the backseat of Seanie's Land Rover. Immature and Selfish Ryan Dean West was already crafting his hey-Annie-I-think-you-should-bring-those-condoms-your-mom-gave-you-to-the-airport speech.

“Dude, I'm a really good driver.”

Immature and Selfish Ryan Dean West, who only took his flight plans from Copilot Two, was in total control of everything now.

Seanie dug around in his pocket and then pulled out the key fob for his car. My hand shook slightly when I took it from him. That nervousness must have been the last shred of Mature and Responsible Ryan Dean West surrendering to the inevitable and deplaning Ryan Dean West Airlines before departure.

“Thanks, dude. I'll see you when I get back.”

I wished I could just ditch classes and leave on the spot.

And Seanie said, “Just tell Annie and Nico that I feel dizzy from the concussion and I better stay in bed this weekend.”

Did he
really
just say he wanted to spend the weekend in bed?

“Um,” I said.

Seanie turned pale and put his face in his hands. “Just please forget I ever said that, Ryan Dean.”

I snatched up the key and stood up. “Said what, Seanie?”

And then I high-fived Spotted John, who immediately added, “This counts as only
one
of the favors you owe me, Snack-Pack Senior.”

“Deal,” I said.

Now, how the fuck was I supposed to drive halfway across the state of Oregon?

Oh well; I could figure that small detail out when I needed to.

“I DON'T GET IT, RYAN
Dean. Why, exactly, do I need to take condoms with me to the airport?” Annie asked.

It was a fair question.

To be honest, I hadn't quite gotten around to telling her that I was going to be the one who'd be driving (or attempting to drive) her to PDX and that Seanie was staying at Pine Mountain to take care of his—air quotes—concussion.

I had all kinds of work cut out for me.

Nico, who'd gone to Conditioning class with me—well, not
with me
, since we were not friends—had been hanging out with Coach M in the gym, waiting for us to get out for lunch. I'd loaned him some of my gym clothes that morning, and he worked out with us. It was kind of sad, to be honest, because running with Nico along the lake trail felt so much like running with his brother, Joey. Except unlike Joey, we didn't really talk much on the run. Nico was an athlete too. You can just see that in guys sometimes.
He must be a hell of a rugby player,
I thought.

So my persuasive speech to Annie Altman about having sex with me went something like this: “What if Seanie's car breaks down and the only option the four of us have is to stay in a motel room
together, and the motel is supercreepy and you can tell by looking at it that it is totally haunted, but the haunted motel only has rooms with king-size beds in them, and there are only two rooms available, and there's no way you'd stay in one by yourself, but you'd never share a room with Nico, who is a stranger, or Seanie, who is gross and has a head wound, and so we finally have our opportunity to be somewhere where we can have the right kind of consensual sex, but we can't decide on names for the baby even if it is nine months from now, but you know how we promised—and not just because Mrs. Blyleven made all us boys sign a Condom Promise—that we would use condoms the first time we do it, but mine are still in that FedEx package my mom sent me last year, which is in O-Hall, and I'm way too creeped out to break into O-Hall because there are ravenous man-eating raccoons living in there? Have you ever thought about that, Annie?” I asked.

“No, Ryan Dean, strangely enough, I have not ever thought about that. And besides, Seanie's car is brand new. I don't think you should count on it breaking down next to a haunted motel.”

We were whispering in the hallway before Foods—er, Culinary Arts—class.

“Still, it
could
happen.”

Annie laughed. And I'll admit it, between my having-sex-in-a-haunted-motel plot synopsis and her laugh, I was getting a bit . . . well, worked up. So I said, “Trust me, Annie. I have a plan.”

Just then, sadly enough, the Abernathy, weighed down with a school backpack as big as a fourth grader, all shiny shoed and perfectly parted hair, swallowed up in a necktie and impeccably creased dress shirt, came marching excitedly down the hallway.

“Hi, Ryan Dean! Hi, Annie! Happy Friday!” he yipped.

I held up my flattened traffic-cop palm. “No. Do not talk to my girlfriend.”

Annie pushed my chest, which made Copilot Two even more determined to taxi onto the runway. I had to nonchalantly adjust myself, which is ridiculously impossible to be nonchalant about in a high school hallway standing in front of a twelve-year-old Cub Scout.

Annie smiled and said, “Stop it, Ryan Dean.”

Which made me even more insane.

•  •  •

“Hey, Nico, there are some bottles of water back there for you if you're thirsty,” I said.

“Thanks, bro. I'm not thirsty,” Nico said.

“I really think you should drink a few bottles. I heard that hydration is superimportant when you're riding in the backseat of a Land Rover.”

“That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard,” Nico said.

Damn. I really wanted Nico to make me pull over so he could pee and so I could then abandon him. Well, I'd come back for him eventually.

“How about we stop for some coffee?” I said.

“Ryan Dean, how can we possibly
stop
? You haven't even started the car yet,” Annie pointed out.

It was a valid point.

And she added, “Are you
sure
you're okay with driving Seanie's car?”

“Seanie's car and I have honestly and openly discussed the matter, and we both enthusiastically granted our consent,” I said. “The only thing is, I'm not really sure how to turn her on.”

Annie shook her head and groaned.

Nico was either relatively clueless or ignoring me, or maybe both.

“No. Really. I have never been in a car that doesn't have one of those things you stick a key in,” I said. “In fact, Seanie's car doesn't even
have
a key.”

“Why don't you try pushing that button there?” Nico, who was sitting in the backseat—which made me jealous in an embarrassed kind of way—reached between us and pointed to an illuminated red button in the dashboard:

Magic.

The engine came to life, and I sat there momentarily constructing a diagram of all the reasons why I should hate Nico Cosentino.