Stand-Off (35 page)

SEANIE FLAHERTY:
I guess you're right. No regrets. I love you too, man. But you better not have fucked up my car.

RYAN DEAN WEST:
Good night. And don't forget to tell Sam.

And when I handed Nico his phone, he said, “You've got plenty of good friends, Ryan Dean.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you want to play some video games or something?” Nico asked.

“To be honest, I'm really sleepy. There must have been something in the buttermilk besides piss and barf. And I suck at video games, besides.”

“Okay, bro. Well, my room is the next one over. I mean, if something happens, like, you know . . . if you get scared or shit. You know, I know how it is, and I'm just right there.”

“Hey, thanks, Nico. I'll be okay. But thanks for showing me where Joey is.”

“He's not there anymore.”

“Yeah he is. I could tell.”

“Okay. You're welcome, then.”

I said, “You got anything I can borrow to go for a run in the
morning? I feel weird all day if I don't get a run in in the morning, and the beach would be nice.”

Nico nodded. “Sure. I got extra running stuff. Maybe I'll tag along.”

“If you want to.”

After Nico said good night and left, I lay in a bed that was actually big enough that my feet didn't overhang the end. I watched a television program about poaching flounder filets in milk and banana leaves.

Goddamn that Sam Abernathy.

What the fuck had happened to me?

NICO AND I RAN UP
the beach on the hard-packed sand left behind by a very low tide.

We didn't say much at all, but that was fine with me because whenever I ran I had enough voices arguing with each other in my head. It's probably why I needed running so much: It was really the only time when I could just forget about everything else and let things sort themselves out in my mind.

And I was sure Nico knew that I intended to go back to the place he'd taken me the day before, just so I could dip my feet into the icy water at that one exact spot a final time before I'd leave and never come back.

But Nico was wrong, or maybe he was just being a jerk or didn't want to admit it, but there was no doubt that I could feel Joey there. Nico knew it too; it was why he came there all the time, like he told me.

The run was windy and long and brutal; and I loved it.

When we got back, the house smelled like bacon and maple syrup. I hoped to God the Cosentinos had run out of buttermilk, though. I thanked Nico for loaning me some shoes and running clothes, and when I asked if he thought I should stay and do laundry in exchange, he told me not to be an ass, but that I did smell pretty bad, so maybe I should consider taking a shower before having breakfast with his family.

They were nice people, and as I sat at their table eating with them I
felt kind of sad about not seeing the Cosentinos again.

Mrs. Cosentino smiled and looked at us and said, “We never asked about the rugby game. How was it?”

I glanced at Nico to see whether or not he was going to answer. Boy telepathy told me no.

So I said, “It was good. We won. Barely.”

“Ryan Dean scored a bitchin' drop goal,” Nico added.

I felt myself turning red.

Mr. Cosentino said, “I love seeing a drop goal. Freaks the shit out of the other team, doesn't it?”

I smiled and nodded.

Mrs. Cosentino said, “Did you have fun up there at Pine Mountain with Ryan Dean?”

I answered before the silence could get too awkward. I knew Nico wasn't going to say anything. Well, I thought he wouldn't, at least. “We had a lot of fun together,” I said.

And Nico said, “There are some good guys who go to school there.”

He put his fork and knife down on his plate and took a drink of orange juice (thank God), then Nico said, “Mom, Dad, I think I want to go to school at Pine Mountain. I talked to Coach McAuliffe about it yesterday. He needs a winger, so I thought I should give it a try. Do you think you could call Headmaster Lavoie and tell him I'd like to start on Monday?”

Mrs. Cosentino coughed a little bit.

Mr. Cosentino looked as happy as a dude who was just told he'd never have to be seen driving in a minivan again.

And I was stunned.

NICO COSENTINO ACTUALLY PRONOUNCED THAT ASSHOLE'S NAME.

Luh. Voy.

Duh!

I felt the rush of a truly religious epiphany. I wanted to stand up and sing!

But wait. What the fuck did he actually just tell his parents?

Mrs. Cosentino said, “What?”

And Mr. Cosentino added, “I am so happy about this, son. What made you change your mind?”

Nico stared at the leftover scraps of pancake on his plate and, without looking at any of us, shrugged and said, “A friend of mine goes there. I was thinking I'd like to play rugby with him this season. You know, before he graduates and goes away to college.”

I was stunned. I wanted to jump up and high-five Nico so hard, and hug him and swing him around and cry, but I completely maintained my composure, kicked my feet beneath my chair, did a quick little excited-Sam-Abernathy TSE, and just said, “Lavoie. Lavoie. Lavoie.”

But I did worry that saying his name three times aloud might have accidentally summoned Beelzebub.

SO WE WENT BACK TO
Pine Mountain Academy.

Nico's stuff was still packed up in tidy plastic totes for the start of school—his Pine Mountain uniforms, rugby equipment, school stuff, a small television, coffee maker, and sets of sheets that weren't designed for a third grader. We loaded it all up in the minivan (gross), and Mrs. Cosentino followed behind us while Nico's dad (who, remarkably, never swerved even one time) drove Seanie's Land Rover.

For some reason, the drive back didn't take nearly as long as the drive out to Pacific City had taken us the day before, but then again, we didn't stop to nearly get murdered at Jack Boob's cheese stand that day. I did see Nico looking at the Boob cheese shed as we passed it, though. We both wanted to see if those Connelly boys had come back to work.

They hadn't.

But on the ride back, I couldn't help but feel a kind of lingering smile on my face. Something was fixing itself inside me finally, and although I knew I'd still have to do some work with Mrs. Dvorak, Annie, and even the Abernathy to make that dark guy Nate disappear forever, I was finally beginning to believe I would be able to do it.

So when we got back to Pine Mountain, the Cosentinos took
Nico in to see Headmaster Dude-whose-name-I-now-knew-how-to-pronounce-which-made-me-feel-like-I-was-a-member-of-the-fucking-Illuminati. Mr. Cosentino obviously had plenty of clout with Pine Mountain's headmaster, because normally such things as enrollments and housing assignments would never be attended to on Saturdays.

And while they were in the office, I took Seanie's key fob and ran back to the boys' dorm. There were things I needed to do.

First stop: Unit 113, and not just because I needed to pee really bad.

When I opened the door, Sam Abernathy was sitting at his desk in his little soccer pajamas (even though it was afternoon), wearing eyeglasses and working on his Calculus homework while the television played a program about making persimmon and raw pistachio salad.

“Hi, Ryan Dean!” he gurgled.

I held up my hand in a stop-in-the-name-of-the-law gesture. “Wait. I really need to pee. Oh my God. You wear glasses?”

Something about seeing the Abernathy in his jammies with glasses on made me want to tuck him in and sing him a lullaby, but I desperately needed to pee first.

And the Abernathy turned all kinds of red and swiped the eyeglasses away from his little face.

“I'm supposed to wear my glasses when I read, but I hate them. They're dorky.”

Wait. The Abernathy has dork awareness?

Who knew?

“Don't talk to me. I'm about to pee my pants.”

I squeezed myself and my bladder into our toilet coffin. When I came out, the Abernathy had hidden his glasses.

“Stand up,” I said.

“Why?” the Abernathy asked.

“I want to do something.”

“What?”

“I want to give you a hug,” I said.

“Did you wash your hands?”

Shit.

“Hang on.”

I went back into the toilet coffin and washed up.

I said, “Okay. I've washed my hands. Take two. Stand up. I want to give you a hug.”

“Why?”

“Because I missed you, and you're really a good friend, Sam. And I've been a total ass to you all this time.”

“Don't swear, Ryan Dean.”

“ ‘Ass' isn't swearing.”

“Yes it is,” the Abernathy argued.

“Look. I'm just trying to do something nice for once,” I said.

“Well. Okay. As long as you washed your hands. But no swearing.”

The Abernathy stood up. I took a breath. And then I tripped on the leg of my fucking desk and fell into the Abernathy and nearly ended up
tangled up with him on his bed. That would have been really awkward. But I managed to stay on my feet, and I gave the kid a solid dude hug.

“Ryan Dean?”

“What?”

“Is something wrong? You're squeezing me really hard.”

“Oh. Sorry, man.” I let go of Sam Abernathy. “I just, well . . . I realized how big of an . . . uh . . . jerk I've been to you this year, Sam. And I also realized that you are really, like, my best dude friend I have here at Pine Mountain, so I wanted to say I'm sorry for how mean I've been. And I won't ever do it again.”

The Abernathy said, “Wow. Just driving to the beach made you think all that up?”

I nodded. “I guess so.”

“Well you're my best friend too, Ryan Dean. But I always knew that, anyway.”

“Yeah, well. What can I say? You're smarter than me, Sam.”

“You want to go outside and do something?”

I smiled. “Sure. Just let me get Seanie's key back to him, and I'll be right down.”

The Abernathy wriggled in excitement. “I'll get dressed in outside clothes!”

Unbelievable.

What the hell has happened to me?

The Abernathy and I lifted weights with Spotted John Nygaard that afternoon.

Rugged.

Seanie came along, but he only watched. Creepy. He said he needed to take care of his—air quotes—concussion.

And while we were gone, a school custodial crew moved a bunk bed into Unit 113. Nico Cosentino was going to be the third sardine in our can. Of course we didn't have to agree to it, but Sam and I didn't mind, and Nico felt really anxious about moving in with someone he didn't even know.

I could empathize with that.

There were only two problems with having the three of us in that one tiny room. Well, maybe three. First, there were only two closets, so Nico had to squeeze half his stuff in with mine and the other half in with the Abernathy's. And although Nico was willing to put up with Sam's claustrophobia, the Abernathy was just going to have to deal with not kicking us out when he wanted to undress or poop, or take a shower, and why am I even thinking about that again?

It was two against one, and Sam sadly admitted that he'd have to resign himself to growing up, even if his body wasn't very cooperative in the physical maturation department.

So gross.

And the third thing, speaking of claustrophobia, was that the crew who'd moved Nico's bunk bed into Unit 113 stacked it on top of Sam Abernathy's bed. Sam didn't have to say anything. When we got back from weight lifting and met up with our new roommate, I could plainly see the look of terror on the Abernathy's little face when he saw the small and dark space beneath Nico's top bunk that used to be his bed.

So it was awkward and straining, and we almost broke stuff doing it, but Nico and I managed to lift his bed across the barrier of desks so we could stack it on top of mine. It was worse than grown-up prison, but we were all going to get along just fine.

And that night, we all stayed up late eating popcorn and watching a program about quinoa with broccoli and prosciutto, laughing together and talking about cooking and rugby, and all the secret details of THE CODE.

It was the best night ever.