The Slam (2 page)

My brother and I exchanged identical raised eyebrows. “Okay,” I said at last.

Silence stretched until Edric broke it. “You know what?” he said. “That’s exactly how I feel about flying!”

A smile touched her lips. “Well, as much as I hate flying, I find it far more pleasant than being in a car with someone else at the wheel.”

“Oh yeah?” Edric said. “Why is that?”

“I prefer to be the one behind the wheel.”

“Ahem.” Edric cleared his throat loudly and elbowed me in the ribs. “You heard the girl. Hand over the keys to the Maserati.”

I expelled an annoyed groan. “You’ve driven a stick shift before?”

“Yes,” she replied. “And I’ve got my IDP.”

I frowned. “IDP?”

“International Driving Permit.”

Reluctantly, I tossed her the keys, which she caught neatly even though I’d given her no warning. “Just don’t ride the clutch, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” she said brightly.

“Aw yeah, smooth as liquid butter!” Edric marveled as Adelaide rounded a sharp turn, downshifting using minimal braking.

To my surprise, she was an exceptional driver. As soon as we hit the freeway, she floored it and I heard the sweet sound of that perfectly timed blip of the gas pedal, effortlessly matching the revs to the wheel speed, and downshifting crisply into the preceding gear.

I could tell she had some real track experience, or a good deal of karting experience, which was how most racers started.

And it wasn’t that she was driving fast—any idiot could do that. It was how she drove with incredible control and precision, easing in and out of speed with deep concentration. She was in the zone.

“Thank you,” Adelaide said simply. “I like to take my Porsche out onto the racetrack at least once a week. I just love the track, you know… how everything is amplified… the speed, the noise, the inertia, the body roll, pitch, yaw, everything. And nothing beats that feeling of my car slipping, gripping, stopping and moving in ways I’m just not used to.”

Adelaide’s still an adrenaline junkie
, I thought.

“You drive a Porsche?” Edric couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

“It’s a vintage 911.” She glanced at the rearview mirror, meeting Edric’s gaze briefly. “Jeff left it to me when he passed away.” There was a hint of sadness in her voice.

A new silence settled in. “I’m sorry about your grandfather,” I said at last.

Adelaide kept her eyes on the road and gave the smallest nod. Then she said nothing more of it. When we came to a stoplight, she applied the handbrake and shifted into neutral.

“You don’t have to use the handbrake,” I informed her.

Worry creased her brows. “But if someone rear-ends me and my foot gets knocked off the gas pedal, the car will go out of control.”

I shrugged. “If there are stopped vehicles in front and behind, you won’t go very far if you’re rear-ended, so I wouldn’t bother.”

She thought about this for a second. “Not using the handbrake would result in a failed driving test back home.”

I shot her a quick sideways grin. “Do you always follow the rules?”

“Always,” she deadpanned.

“You know what?” Edric’s voice boomed from the backseat. “There’s a time and place to break the rules. It’s called college.”

“What are the rules?” she asked.

“The rules are…” Edric let out a large yawn. “There ain’t no rules.”

Thirty minutes later he was fast asleep with his mouth open, snoring like a congested walrus. The lights caught the reflectors on the road as Adelaide drove up the long and windy street leading to our house.

“Turn up there,” I said.

The headlight beams lit the front of the house as she pulled into the driveway.

Edric woke himself up with his own snoring. “We’re home,” he mumbled groggily.

“We’re on a driveway,” Adelaide corrected. Then quickly, as if catching herself, she said, “Sorry, I should probably stop blurting out whatever I’m thinking.”

Edric smiled politely, but he sent me a look as if to say,
She’s a strange one.

As she killed the engine, I reached forward and my hand brushed hers in the dark.

“Eeeps!” she squeaked like an overwrought mouse.

“The keys,” I said calmly. “I need my keys.”

“Oh,” she said, her shoulders relaxing a little. “Sorry. I’m just a little tired and that makes me jittery sometimes.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Edric teased. “He won’t bite.”

“Neither do I.” Adelaide bared her perfectly straight teeth. “Unless you ask me to.”

Edric sent me another look that said,
Should I fear for my life? Will she be wearing my skin tomorrow?

Puzzled by his reaction, Adelaide flashed him another toothy grin, one just as menacing.

Jingling the keys in my hand, I got out of the car, jogged down the flagstone path and unlocked the front door. As I switched the lights on and looked over my shoulder, I caught Adelaide taking in her surroundings. “Good gravy!” Her eyes swept through the wide expanse of the front hall. “This looks like Wayne Manor.”

“Wayne Manor?” Edric said, dragging her suitcase across the foyer.

“Stately Wayne Manor,” she added. “Where bachelor millionaire Bruce Wayne was able to give houseroom to his youthful ward, Dick Grayson, without attracting the attention of social services.”

“Oh!” Edric said with a sudden flash of comprehension. “You mean Batman and Robin’s crib?”

“Correct,” she murmured, her head rotating on a swivel. “How do you guys even afford this place?”

“It’s called Mom and Dad.” Edric grinned broadly. “They help out with our tuition. And Camille helps out with our room and board. Actually,” he added, “this is Camille’s place.”

“I see.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “So did Camille ask you to let me stay here?”

“More like strong-armed,” I muttered under my breath.

“More like insist,” Edric said diplomatically.

She gave an apprehensive smile. “So you don’t have a problem with me staying here?”

Instead of answering her question, I led her to the guest room, which also doubled as our home gym. “This will be your room,” I said. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to move all this crap out of your way. I only got Camille’s letter today.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugged off her backpack. “There’s a bed and a desk. That’s sufficient.”

In a sudden flash, the orange tabby cat hopped off the bed, sashayed over to Adelaide and arched its back, rubbing up against her ankle.

“That’s Mimi,” I said. “She’s Edric’s cat. She likes to sleep in here sometimes.”

“Hello there, kitty.” Adelaide reached down to stroke the feline’s head.

The cat purred in response and nestled closer. Adelaide scratched her behind the ears and the cat rolled onto her back, spreading her legs wide open.

“Look!” Adelaide cried with delight. “She’s presenting herself!”

“That cat’s a slore!” Edric shouted from the living room.

“A slore?” She tilted her head slightly. “What does that mean?”

Edric yelled again, “It means she’s a slut and a whore!”

“My brother has supersonic hearing,” I said without expression. “He can hear everything.”

“Oh,” she said, giving the cat a belly rub. “I see.” Then she spoke to the cat in confidence, her voice dropping to a smoky whisper. “Don’t you listen to your Uncle Edric, Mimi.” The cat purred in response and she went on, “I think you’re a charming pussy who’s terribly misunderstood.”

While Adelaide and the slore got acquainted, I began moving the barbells and weight bench out of her room and into mine.

It didn’t take me long and when I was done, I said, “I’ll dismantle the pull-up bar tomorrow.” She nodded, and after a pause, I added, “Can I get you anything?”

“Just water. I need to stay hydrated. Then I just want to take a shower and go right to bed. I have to factor in one day of recovery for every time zone crossed for my body to adjust to the local time. Which means it’s going to take me thirteen days to fully recover from my jetlag. I need as much sleep as I can get.”

“Right.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Your freshman orientation starts tomorrow. I’ll give you a ride to campus. Try and be ready by nine.”

“I’ll be ready,” she said. “Oh wait! I need to call Camille. Just to let her know that I made it here and I’m doing fine.”

“Sure. Why don’t you take some time to get settled in? I’ll give her a call later.”

“Not much later, right?” Her words were awkward and stilted. “I must get to bed soon to get over my—”

“Your jetlag,” I finished. “Right. I’m aware of that.”

“Terrific.” She got on her knees, unzipped her backpack, and started unpacking.

I paused at the doorway. “The bathroom is at the end of the hallway. And the towels are in that closet to your right.”

“Thanks,” she said without looking up.

Scrubbing my face, I headed for the kitchen, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and joined Edric in the living room.

He spoke first. “Adelaide’s pretty cool… but
damn
, she talks like she’s eighteen going on eighty.”

“I know.” I stopped when I heard the bathroom door open, then close. When the shower came on, I continued, “She was always like that. It’s like she skipped childhood entirely and went straight to adulthood.”

“Humph,” Edric grunted. “I’m guessing she didn’t have many friends.”

Dropping onto the sofa with a loud sigh, I cracked the tab and took a long pull from my beer. “We were her only friends.”

“Apparently, you were her titty buddy.” He gave a snort of laughter. “What was that all about?”

Shaking my head, I reclined on the sofa, thinking back to when I’d first met Adelaide.

“We’re bosom buddies.” She’d smiled at me. “It is a literal translation from Latin—sodalis pectoris. And it means friend of the soul or bosom, because the Romans believed that the heart and the chest are the seat of the soul.”

I’d just stared at her as if she had been speaking Swahili. Adelaide was only five at the time, and I was seven.

“Bosom buddies?” I’d said to her. “Sure, whatever.” A pause. “Can I call you Addy?”

“No. My name is Adelaide. I think I have every right to be called by my chosen name. How would you like it if I called you End instead of Ender?”

“Adelaide,” I’d said through gritted teeth. “I can already tell you’re twenty types of trouble.”

“Ender,” she’d replied sweetly. “I can already tell we’re gonna be bosom buddies.”
 

In a way, she had been right. We ended up being inseparable by the end of the summer, exploring the outback and roaming the desert until dusk.

Edric’s voice cut into my thoughts. “I remember meeting her when Camille and Jeff had started dating. Adelaide was always around and the three of us… we formed a wolf pack, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.” I took another long pull from my beer. “We did.”

Adelaide was one of the boys. One of us.

Sturdy, tough, and tanned as a nut from spending all her time outdoors, she roughhoused with Edric in the mud and wrestled in the dirt with me, never crying or complaining when she got cuts and scrapes. Skinned knees, bumps and bruises—that was typical for Adelaide. And if she had dirt stains on her shorts and mud on her face, it was a good day for her.

After a pause, Edric said, “Did you know she had Asperger’s back then?”

“Nah.” I shook my head. “I didn’t even know what Asperger’s was.”

I just knew she was hard-wired differently from the rest of us. When we played a game of Simon Says, Adelaide would say, “Simon says jump!” and we did. Seconds later, she’d yell, “Simon didn’t say land. You’re all out!”

She wasn’t being sarcastic. She was dead serious.

Another time I told her I was going to catch a bus to the store, and she said, “Make sure you have a really big net.”

Adelaide took things literally—
very literally
—and now it all started to make sense.

In time, Edric spoke into the silence. “I wonder if she’s expecting to tag along with us. Fuck, I hope not. Natasha’s gonna flip.”

“I don’t know what she’s expecting.” I tipped the last of my beer above my mouth, draining it dry. “Natasha coming over tonight?”

“Yeah.” He held back a groan. “Much later, though.”

“Your girl’s the jealous type, eh?”

His expression grew remote. “She’s mental. Yesterday she looked at the calendar on my phone and wanted to know who April was.”

I laughed. “That’s ’cause you have an ex named January Moore.”

With a clipped sigh, Edric picked up the remote and flicked on the TV, effectively ending that conversation. “Just in time,” he said as the US Open men’s singles finals started—Kei Nishikori vs Marin Cilic.

“Unreal, isn’t it?” I commented.

“I know.” He stretched out on the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table. “You can say that again.”