Weekend (4 page)

Sol shrugged. "A bunch of crap."

"I'm curious. Tell me," Flynn insisted.

But at that moment, they saw Angie's blue Datsun, weaving a path that failed miserably to miss the many potholes. Kerry and Shani were with her. Park felt dismayed at his lukewarm reaction to their rescue. Of course, having an alternative ride was no major relief. Sol had had them on the road at five in the morning, but they all knew it was only a matter of time before others from their class stumbled by. Sure he was happy to see Angie, but meeting her here so close to Robin made him feel guilty. What would the weekend be like? He also had to worry what Shani thought, though she had never so much as hinted that she thought he had stabbed Robin in the back by dumping her so soon after the accident. In fact, he was actually happier to see Shani approaching, than Angie. Often he wished that it was she he was attracted to, and vice versa.

With the possible exception of Lena, Shani was the prettiest girl in the school. She was too thin, and her breasts were nothing to grab - Sol had tried once - but her hair was as black as the old man's raven, toppling in a curling cascade to her butt, and Mother Nature had granted her facial structure every break.

Her innocent, pondering profile often reminded Park of Natalie Wood's. Junk food had no part in her diet. Consequently, the glowing skin he'd appreciated even in grade school had passed, unmarred, into young womanhood. But her claim on the hearts of Hoover High's male population was due to her eyes.

They were a shade of dawn's darkest, clearest blue, like large, round mountain lakes an hour before sunrise. Yet with all this, Shani saw herself as nothing more than a bag of bones with a boring personality.

True, she did bore him on occasion, but then, he had known her a long, long time. Kissing her was like kissing his sister, and he didn't even have a sister. He supposed that leading her home early by the hand in kindergarten with her pants soiled - his free hand blatantly clasping his nose - had ruined the romance at the beginning. Whenever he reminded her of the incident, every other week, she would get terribly embarrassed. Despite all this, he had once tried to seduce her. Afterwards, she hadn't even realised that he had made the effort. She was a good girl.

Angie was attractive also, but in a more traditional, less exotic fashion. A bleached blonde, she had a tan in midwinter and brown legs longer than his own. He didn't know what colour her eyes were, but they were nice. Yet they never had that much to talk about. Only when she had her clothes off was she really interesting. Not that she was dumb - she had a "B" average and planned on going to college - but there was nothing in her personality that stood out. She was like a collage of her friends: a bit of Shani's charm, an ounce of Kerry's nervousness, a glimmer of Robin's sweetness, a slice of Lena's craftiness, all lumped together with no definitive result. He doubted she loved him - though she had murmured the three words

— so he did not feel absolutely terrible about not loving her. He liked and respected her; that was enough. Love, he had decided, was something he was incapable of.

Laughing, the three girls drove right by them. Only when Sol jumped into the centre of the road and shouted something obscene in Spanish did they return in high-speed reverse. Park put his shirt back on, his pulse still not settled from the wrestling match with the snake. Angie was the first out of the car. She smiled and waved and hugged and kissed him. He reminded himself to tell her later not to do such things in front of Robin. He hugged her in return, briefly.

"We've got to quit meeting this way," he said.

"But it's so romantic," Shani laughed, coming up. "Mind if I butt in?" she asked Angie before planting a quick kiss on his lips. She tasted like Rolaids.

Angie shook her head, took his hand, not looking altogether pleased. "I don't mind."

Sol got Shani next, hugging her like he might eat her, while Kerry remained aloof. But then he grinned slyly at Kerry, and said, "Hey, babe, why don't you just slide on over here and give me a big… give me a little taste?"

It was an absurd line, but Kerry smiled with happiness, and Park was glad. Kerry didn't have Shani's brightness or Robin's warmth, and she was too quick to gossip, but he felt she was essentially a good kid who'd had to beat a pretty tough rap this year. He had always wished that it had been Lena's butt they had seen. Besides probably having a far more stimulating rear, she would haveenjoyed having an excuse to flash her goods.

Without batting an eye, Sol tried to give Kerry a quick feel right there in front of them. "Animal!" she squealed in delight, making a halfhearted attempt to slap him.

"You know it," Sol said.

"Some things never change," Park muttered.

"Some things do," Shani whispered, standing close by. He glanced at her, surprised. For a moment she seemed sad. But then she turned away, towards Flynn, and he could feel her tremble. He knew she was wild about Flynn, but had sworn a vow not to leak the news, which he had no intention of breaking.

Flynn had watched their reunion from a detached distance. Now he stepped forward, nodding slightly like an English officer. He always appeared in perfect control.

"Hi, Shani," he said.

"Hi! I didn't know you knew me - I mean — knew my name." She blushed. "How are you Flynn?"

"Fine."

"I'm happy to… ahh… that you're fine."

"I'm happy to see you," he said, the perfect gentleman.

Shani bowed her head, embarrassed. "Oh."

"You should have been here a few minutes ago," Park said. "Flynn saved Sol's life. He killed that rattlesnake over there just when it was about to bite Sol's ugly feet."

"Really!!?" the three girls cried.

"I wouldn't say that," Flynn said, winking at Sol.

"Naah, that snake was dead when we got here," Sol said.

"What?" Park said.

"I touched it with the tip of my shoe," Flynn said, feigning confusion, "but that was all."

"What are you talking about, Park?" Sol asked. "I don't have ugly feet."

"We can tell that Flynn's brave by looking at him," Angie said. "We don't need your wild tales."

"What?"

"It sure is gross-looking," Shani observed. "It looks like it was shot in two."

"Must have been someone handy with a gun," Flynn said.

"A marksman," Sol agreed.

"Looks like it's been dead awhile," Kerry said.

"What?"

"Would you stop that?" Angie said, getting annoyed. She gestured to Sol's van. "Did you get a flat?"

"No, a snake bit the tyre," Park grumbled. Sol must have wanted to abide by Flynn's obvious wish not to have to talk about his gun. Or else Sol wanted to make a fool of him. Or both.

"Do you have a spare?" Shani asked.

"Not with me," Sol said, laughing at Park.

"Before we left," Kerry said, "my father gave us one of those cans that can inflate a tube and seal any small holes. Would that help?"

"With all these dangerous snakes around here," Sol said, pulling out a cigarette, "it might end up being a lifesaver."

Everyone laughed except Park. He was not amused, but he was sure it was bad karma. He was always playing practical jokes on others. Maybe it was his turn.

Angie fetched the can from the Datsun's glove compartment. Kneeling by the flat tyre, Sol read the instructions softly to himself in Spanish. White foam squirted briefly over the tube's nipple as he secured the can's tip into place. Thirty seconds later, the tyre had regained a semblance of its former roundness.

"Will it hold?" Angie asked.

"We should be able to get to the house," Sol said, kneading his thumb into the tyre.

"Where's Bert?" Kerry asked. Bert liked Kerry. He liked everyone. Kerryused Bert. So did everyone.

Bert liked being used.

"Consuming mass quantities," Park said.

"No, here he comes," Flynn said.

There were those who said that Big Bert Billings was not a genius. Those were the same people who said the Leaning Tower of Pisa was not straight and that the earth was round — typical unimaginative fools. Italy was crooked, the tower was fine, and everybody of consequence knew the astronauts'

photos of Earth had been touched up. Bert was obviously a genius. Who could lead the basketball league in rebounds and not be able to jump more than three inches straight up, never mind his two hundred and fifty pounds and six-foot-five height? Who could get to only a minute left in an exam, be only half done, and guess at the remainder of the questions and end up with a high score, never mind the black market test complete with answers in his lap? Bert was simply humble. He hid his intelligence, so well in fact that he couldn't remember exactly where he had put it. Everybody loved Bert. He was awfully big.

Bert was walking reasonably straight up the swaying road, managing to keep his half-inch-long blond hair out of his wild eyes. Usually, he was rather fair, but this afternoon gallons of alcohol-saturated blood were-pumping through his cheeks. Usually when Bert saw you again, he slapped you heartily on the back. One could end up in the hospital after saying hello to Bert. He waved excitedly to them. They would have to have been heartless not to wave back.

"Boy, am I glad to see you!" he shouted, coming up. His volume dial was broken at ten. "I thought you guys might have left without me!" He went to slap Sol's back. Sol hadn't moved so fast for the snake. Sol was strong, but he wasn't built like the Statue of Liberty.

"Why would we have left you?" Sol breathed from a safe distance.

Bert noticed they had company. "Hi ya, girls!"

"Hi ya, Bert!" the three replied in unison.

Bert rubbed his massive hands together eagerly. He positively stunk of beer. "Boy, have I got a story for you folks! I'd just got out of the canteen, and was walking back here, when this snake came out of the weeds and tried to bite me!"

"Really?" Park asked, incredibly pleased. "What did you do?"

"I stomped on it, and kicked it," Bert beamed. "Tore it right in two."

"Oh, no," Park groaned, as the others broke up in laughter.

THREE

Sol's van was still in the rearview mirror, so the tyre must be holding up. Shani hadn't realised that they still had so far to go from where they had joined the guys. They had left Margarita Ville twenty miles behind and there was still no sign of the road Lena had mentioned. Lena's thirty minutes past the canteen was probably in a fifty grand Porsche in fifth gear when the road was in one piece.

Their caravan had undergone personnel rearrangements. Kerry had wanted to ride in the van with Sol, and Angie had wanted Park to ride in the Datsun with them. No one had objected. To give Angie a chance to devote all her attention to Park - who needed a lot of attention lest he get lonely — Shani had taken over the role of chauffeur. Every time she hit a pothole, Park's head would smack the ceiling. She would have laughed each time it happened, but Flynn was sitting three feet to her right, and she was having enough trouble breathing. She was trying to start a conversation, but he was terribly quiet.

"I bet the weather down here is a lot different than it is in England," she said, thinking that was probably the dumbest thing she had ever said.

"England's much cooler," Flynn said pleasantly, his accent far less noticeable than when he had first arrived at school.

"Where are you from, exactly?"

"Southern England."

"What city?"

He hesitated. Perhaps she was being nosey. "Plymouth."

"Do your parents live there?"

"My mother does."

She wouldnot ask if they were divorced. "I've never been to England, or anywhere outside of California."That was the dumbest thing she had ever said. "I mean, except to Mexico… this place…

today, that is." She took a deep breath. "Why did you come to Santa Barbara? Am I asking too many questions?"

Flynn smiled. "Not at all, Shani. I love to hear your voice."

Did he really say that? She would have to write it down later in her diary. Slightly flustered, she weaved into a pothole. Park's head got another millimetre flatter. "Watch it," he growled.

"Thank you," she said. "I mean, I'm sorry."

"Tell me about yourself," Flynn said.

"About me? There isn't much to say about me." She couldn't think of anything offhand.

"Why do you want to be a psychiatrist?"

"Oh, how did you know that?"

"I read the caption under your picture in that book — the yearbook. It said: Ambition — Psychiatrist; Favourite Subject — Psychology; Happiest Memory — Coming out of the womb; Hoover High Bulletin Editor; Homecoming Court."

"You must have an incredible memory," Shani said, awed.

"I only read a few of the captions."

"Did you read mine?" Park asked. For some mysterious reason, his senior picture - in everyone's yearbook — had been faded to a ghost outline. Indeed, nowhere else in the book was his lost little boy face to be found. Though he had an ongoing fantasy that he looked like Ryan O'Neal, Park could not have chosen a more inaccurate model. Sturdy and wiry from hours of surfing, he was nevertheless short and pale. And with lips rosy to the point of appearing touched up, and a mop of hair as black as his coal eyes, he was closer to a member of the Vienna Boys' Choir than a movie star. He was not handsome, but a lot of girls - Shani included - thought he was a doll.

The absence of his picture in the annual was no real mystery. He had been the yearbook editor-in-chief.

The thought of some jerk scribbling on his face, he had confided, had been unbearable.

"You read it to me, Park," Flynn answered. "Your happiest memory was going into the womb."

"I was speaking for my father, there," Park grinned.

"Who else's did you read?" Shani asked. She was flattered — she was in seventh heaven — that he'd taken special note of her, but already she was worrying about the competition.

Again he hesitated. "Robin Carlton's."

They had handed in the information for the captions before Robin's accident. Robin's ambition had been to become a doctor and join the Peace Corps and help poor people. The conversation went out of the window right there. Shani decided she would tell Flynn why she wanted to be a psychiatrist when he told her why he had come to Santa Barbara.