Weekend (2 page)

Lost somewhere between blonde and brunette, her short shaggy hair needed styling. But with a good cut and the right clothes — which neither she nor her parents could afford — shecould have competed with almost any girl at school.

Except for Lena. Except for a perversely timed rip.

It happened in November, during the week preceding the homecoming game when they were to play their cross-town rivals and crown their new queen. Yet it had happened many times before, in cheap teenage exploitation films, the thoughtless kind without a shred of realism or warmth. Perhaps that was what had made the trick seem so especially base. However, though the fundamental idea had been boringly simple, its implementation had never been so wickedly crafty.

In those days, Sol was going with Kerry. When he was not cutting classes, they could be seen laughing hand-in-hand, one of the few happy couples on campus. Now Lena already disliked Kerry from aeons past, and she began to take a fancy to Sol, and spread hints to the effect, thinking that would be sufficient. It probably would have been, but Lena wasn't used to waiting. When Sol didn't immediately come running into her arms, sheapparently decided to hasten his break up with Kerry. To this day, Lena's guilt had not been definitely established. However, few believed her expressed innocence. Simply no one at school had the mind to hatch an elaborate, evil plot - other than Lena - and the facts pointed a mighty guilty finger her way.

Along with Angie and Robin, Kerry was a song leader. In honour of the homecoming festivities, they had developed a new routine to perform at the pep rally to be held at lunchtime in the gym, the day before the big game. It involved the usual bouncing through the air and spread-eagled stretching. Lena was well aware of the specifics of the routine. Though not a member of any cheering squad — she had passed such adolescent displays, so she said - she contributed, through her sister, extra twists. One of Lena's exotic suggestions was the straw that broke the camel's back, the twist that tore the panties.

Because the song leaders' uniforms were warm, and Santa Barbara was sunk in a rare heat wave, the girls wore regular clothes to the morning classes, leaving their uniforms in their gym lockers. While on her way to the locker room at the start of lunch, Kerry was stopped by Lena, who wanted to chat. Under normal circumstances, Kerry would not have had the slightest inclination to "chat" with Lena, and now that she was in a hurry to change, she was less anxious. Nevertheless, Lena succeeded in delaying her to the point where Kerry was cutting it close. To top it off, as they parted company, Lenaaccidentally spilt her Coke on Kerry's shorts, the soft drink soaking through to her underwear. No big problem, though Kerry was mad. She was going to change into her uniform in a minute anyway. The only difference now was that sheprobably wouldn't be able to wear her underwear. When Kerry reached the locker room, she rushed into her song clothes, not having a chance to take note of any irregularities.

The pep rally started like so many other boring pep rallies. The punchy football coach strutted to the microphone and mumbled a couple of slow lines about how smart - football-wise - their team was this year, and introduced a few key players that everyone already knew. Shani was sitting in the front row of the audience with Park. They cheered loudly for good-natured "Big Bert" — an unusual member of their unusual gang — but otherwise they were hardly listening. It was only when the song leaders came on that she sat up and took notice. Of course, three of her friends were in the group, but perhaps she also had a premonition of danger, for her stomach had begun to ache like it did when she was worrying deeply.

Park also stirred to life. His girl friend, Robin — whom he supposedly loved very much — was the leader of the group. He had his camera primed and was clicking away the second they launched into their routine. Even then, Shani had felt that he had taken an unusually high number of pictures of Angie.

In the middle of the skit, Kerry flew spreadeagled over Robin's shoulders and Shani thought she heard a rip. But at first she decided that she must have been mistaken, for no one else appeared to have heard anything. Then a low murmur began to spread through the audience, a sound that quickly built to loud whistles and hoots. This was an example of how fast gossip could spread, for, although she was sitting in the front, and although the song leaders' dresses were short, Shani could see nothing unusual as far as Kerry was concerned. Neither could Park — Shani asked him twice what was going on. But a few people, probably only a handful in the entire crowd, hadthought they had caught a flash of Kerry's bare bottom. Afterwards, of course, there weredozens of guys whoswore they were one of the chosen few.

The fact that they wereall liars made no difference. Ironically, Kerry was probably the last one in the gym to know there was a problem. The record they performed to continued on, though it was practically drowned out in the commotion, and Kerry continued to swirl and twist and bend, not noticing any draught. Shani finally got the word through the grapevine of what wassupposedly happening, and then it seemed ages to her before Kerry found out. In reality, from the moment of the rip to the instant of her bewildered halting, possibly twenty seconds had elapsed. It was Angie who finally stopped her and whispered something in her ear, probably just a line to get Kerry to leave the gym as quickly as possible.

Angie even escorted her to the door. As they crossed the basketball court floor, the audience granted them a brief respite. But the second they were out of view, they flew back into ecstasy.

Shani left her place in the stands and hurried to the girls' showers. There she found Kerry slumped on the bench that ran in front of the lockers, Angie standing nearby. The place was otherwise deserted. Kerry was more confused than upset. She did not understand what the big deal was. Her dance pants had ripped and she had flashed her underwear. So what? Shani agreed with her that there was nothing to worry about. She was lying. She didn't tell Kerry that those flesh-coloured panties she'd been wearing could be mistaken for bare flesh, at a distance. That theyhad been mistaken for Kerry's backside, by more than one person.

As Kerry began to change into her street clothes, muttering about how she hoped the confusion would get cleared up quickly, the three of them made an interesting discovery. Someone had replaced Kerry's nylon dance pants with blue cottonpaper pants of the same size. No wonder they had ripped. Normally, Kerry would have immediately spotted the switch. But she had been in a hurry before the pep rally, and hadn't detected the difference in the fabrics.

When Kerry remembered how Lena had soaked her underwear, forcing her to be late, Shani immediately put two and two together. The connection was obvious. Lena must have figured Kerry would discard the wet panties. Lena must have also been thesomeone who had switched the dance pants. She had undoubtedly been hoping that Kerry would be caught flashing her bottom. This fortunately hadn't happened, but it easily could have. Lena later denied the accusations, but she did so with a sly smile, and her deepest admiration for whoever had thought up the plan.

In the following days, Angie and Shani told anyone who would listen that Kerryhad been wearing underwear beneath her dance pants. Few believed the truth; they apparently preferred not to. Kerry had to endure ceaseless catcalls. She also lost Sol to Lena. Shani had been disgusted with him for deserting Kerry in her hour of need, but he swore that the pep rally incident had absolutely nothing to do with their break up. He explained that Lena had simply made him an offer that he couldn't refuse.

Shani checked on Kerry in the front seat before opening the annual to page fifty-eight. As a further example of how unreal Kerry's "flash" had been, there had been at least a dozen people taking pictures at that pep rally and not one of them had caught anything even remotely x-rated. Nevertheless, tucked in one corner there was a small black and white picture that had captured all but the "highlight" of the afternoon. It had been taken from the rear of the audience, and showed the crowd on its feet laughing and pointing at an innocent smiling Kerry, whose life was about to come to an end. There was nothing for the guys to gloat over, but it clearly brought back the day. Park had been on the yearbook staff. Shani would have to speak to him about who had allowed the picture in the annual.

Was it a coincidence, Shani often asked herself, that Robin's accident had happened less than a month after Kerry's humiliation?

"Hey girls," Angie said. "Looks like we're no longer alone. Sol's van is just up ahead."

Shani tossed the annual aside and peered between Angie and Kerry. The glare of the blazing sun made seeing difficult, but it was clearly Sol's faded black Dodge. Farther down the road, perhaps a half mile, was a solitary brown clay building, probably the Margarita Ville Canteen. That meant they were almost there. But who cared? Huddling near the rear of the van, beside Sol and Park, was a guy with the smoothest walk this side of England.

"Flynn!" Shani cried.

"God, Shani, not in my ear," Angie said.

Shani grabbed her Rolaids and downed the whole roll as if it were candy. The furnace in her stomach roared on unchecked. She had been dying to see Flynn again, yet, all of a sudden, she wished that she was invisible.

TWO

"This tyre isn't getting less flat with us looking at it," Park said.

"Why didn't you go to the cantina down the road with Bert and Flynn?" Sol asked.

"I still can. Why don't you come with me?"

"I have to guard my van. No way I trust the Cholos down here."

"You're a Cholo."

"Used to be," Sol muttered, lighting a cigarette. Sol chain-smoked.

Park was tempted to split. The inside of their lame van was incredibly stuffy, and out here on the broken asphalt it was like standing on a frying pan. They had a much brighter sun down here than they did in the States. His nose would peel this weekend. It would probably rot and fall off. He sure could use a cold beer. Unfortunately, the strap on his sandals — his only available footwear — had snapped and it was a good ten-minute walk to the canteen. He should have taken Big Bert up on his offer to carry him. He knew Sol was intentionally mocking him, standing barefoot on the blistering pavement. Sol had feet like a caveman.

"Why don't we check on your spare?" Park asked for the third time.

Sol chuckled, the sound oddly frightening coming from him. Shani imagined Sol a modern Fonzie, tough outside but with a heart of gold. Park could attest to the fact that he had a heart, but it was made of a far less precious metal. Sol was tough to the core. Brought up in L.A's barrios, he'd once admitted to stabbinghis first person — a member of a rival gang — at the age of twelve. He had never said it outright, but Park had the clear impression that not everyone who had got in his way was still alive. He'd been arrested twice in his fifteenth year: once for stealing a car, the other time for carrying a gun - a sawn-off shotgun. He hadn't told him these stories to impress him. Sol didn't give a damn what anyone thought.

Park knew the horrors he'd related had only been the tip of the iceberg.

Once, old friends — the meanest, most wired Cholos he'd ever seen — had visited Sol while they were playing a rough game of one-on-one at the school yard on a Saturday afternoon. Both wore wads of jewelery and picked at their oily nails with shiny switchblades, talking in guttural Spanish with Sol about Satan only knew what. In the midst of the conversation, they said something that bothered Sol and he snapped at them. They paled noticeably and apologized frantically, like their lives depended on it, which may well have been the case. Afterwards, Sol explained that they had made an obscene reference to Park. The loyalty hadn't comforted Park.

Park wasn't sure how Sol's father had managed to get his two children - Sol had a ten-year-old sister of whom he was maniacally protective, the cutest little thing - out of the barrios; probably hard work. Mr.

Celaya currently had a flourishing gardening business in Ventura. But apparently, he hadn't felt that Ventura was far enough north of his son's friends. He rented a house on the outskirts of Santa Barbara, and Sol ended up in laid-back Hoover High like a wolf among sheep.

Park still remembered the first day they ran into each other - literally. Sol had knocked him out of his way in the hall. Initially, no one could understand hisSpanglish , and it was probably just as well, for in the first few days he seemed one angry young man. But first impressions are not always complete. The passage of a couple of weeks presented a different profile. Sol had his mean streak, and it cut pretty deep, but he could also be kind, and no one could doubt his intelligence. A month after arriving at Hoover High, after a couple of expulsion threats from the principal, he apparently made a firm personal decision to develop his positive qualities, and to only behave like an animal when he could get away with it. The most immediate demonstration of this decision was the change in the way he spoke. He would never be mistaken for an upper-middle-class white boy, but he developed a knack for using English concisely. And damn if he didn't take to spending hours in the library. He wasn't easy to fit in a category.

Of course, he seldom returned a book.

At the end of his junior year, he went out for track and smashed the shot-put record. His bulging muscles and blinding reflexes made him a natural at the event. Park was also on the team - he ran a mediocre mile - but what really brought them together was Sol's sudden discovery of surfing. Before moving to Santa Barbara, he once confessed, he hadn't even seen the ocean and he'd despised, because of his upbringing, anything associated with the wordsurfing . Yet the sea proved an asylum to him that seemed to wash away the weight of past cares. Park had already won two minor surfing championships.

Hearing of Sol's interest in the waves, he boldly loaned him a board and taught him a few tricks of the trade. Soon they were surfing together regularly. Park still wasn't sure what Sol liked about him outside of his skill on the waves. He had asked once, and Sol had said that hanging around with the school brain was good for his "tough-but-heart-of-gold-guy image". On the other hand, Park didn't fully understand what he liked about Sol. Certainly, there wasn't anyone else quite like him.