I grabbed the cans where they hung down in front of my hoodie and jiggled them. “It takes the better part of an hour for me to do my TSE on them.”
Then I realized I really, really did not ever want to talk about grabbing my balls in front of Seanie Flaherty and Spotted John Nygaard while they were sitting together—I mean really together—in their boxers.
I felt myself nearly choking from embarrassment.
Such a loser.
“Um. Well. Thanks for letting me ride with you to Pacific City tomorrow, Seanie. I’ll . . . um . . . see . . . See you then.”
Seanie didn’t say anything. He just lifted his fingers in a would-you-get-the-fuck-out-of-here-and-leave-me-alone insincere wave.
So I thanked the ninja again and took one more photographic glance at Seanie Flaherty and Spotted John Nygaard before ducking out the door.
So weird.
* * *
7. Yep. Said it.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
THE ABERNATHY SHOOK HIS HEAD and made a bookshelf with his lower lip. “No, no, no, Ryan Dean!”
I anticipated the grub’s reaction would be something along these lines if he saw the cans of beer I smuggled down from Spotted John’s penthouse.
“Look, Sam. It’s part of the code, okay?”
Nobody—not even a twelve-year-old virgin with holy water for blood—can argue with the code.
Unit 113 smelled of popcorn. Nico, wearing my sweatshirt, sat cross-legged in his floor bed beneath the Donkey Kong blanket the Abernathy had given him, while the television played a program about sauteing white-perch roe with onions.
Gross.
The Abernathy, who was practically hyperventilating, drew a triangle with his pink little pointer finger in the air between the three of us. “We could get into so much trouble!”
“Relax, Sam. It’s okay. Nobody’s going to get in trouble. This is just for me and Nico.”
“What if one of you goes crazy and jumps out the window or something?”
“Sam? Are you insane? Our window is two feet off the ground.”
“Well, it could happen.”
I handed Nico a beer and he opened it.
“I’ll take my chances, Sam,” I said.
And Nico said, “Will you guys be quiet? I’m trying to watch this show about cooking fish sperm.”
He wasn’t serious.
But the Abernathy corrected him. “Roe isn’t sperm, Nico. It’s eggs.”
Nico took a swig of beer. “Well, it looks like sperm.”
“Dude. That’s totally gross.” I opened my beer. “But you’re right. It does look like sperm. And, by the way, although Mrs. Blyleven would be pleased we’re using the word ‘sperm,’ I never want to talk to you boys about sperm again.”
“I hate you guys,” Sam Abernathy said.
Whatever.
“Cheers, Nico.”
We clinked cans and drank.
By the time we were halfway through our beers, being the entirely unpracticed drinkers we were, Nico and I were both completely drunk.
I know. We are losers.
But at least we had Sam Abernathy there to keep us from doing anything stupid like jumping out the window.
Well, at least until he fell asleep.
“Awww . . . he snores,” Nico said.
I hadn’t noticed it before, but the Abernathy did snore—a tiny Pomeranian puppy kind of grunt-wheeze-snore that would have made me lactate if I was pregnant, and a woman, but since I wasn’t, I kind of wanted to throw a shoe at him or put duct tape over his mouth or, just maybe, close the goddamned window.
Nico wobbled to his feet and grabbed the remote from the Abernathy’s little moist hand, then turned off the television. “This is the grossest show I’ve ever seen. Was that supposed to make people want to eat fish sperm?”
Nico and I undressed and went to bed. And we both just lay there with our hands folded behind our heads, staring up at the blank darkness between us and the ceiling.
“Dude, I told you. The Cooking Channel is all the kid ever watches.”
“You must be a really nice guy to put up with this shit, bro.”
I shook my head. “If I was Catholic, they’d make me the patron saint of idiots and twelve-year-olds.”
“And they would call you Saint Cuisinart,” Nico said.
The Abernathy grunted and rolled over in his Mario bed.
“But the kid can cook,” I whispered. “And I’ve never seen anyone who can pop every single kernel in a bag of microwave popcorn.”
“I guess you have to give him credit for that,” Nico said.
“If you want to, we can take our chances with closing the window, but he almost died last time I did it.”
“It’s okay,” Nico said. “These blankets are kind of warm.”
“Or we could do something really crazy, like jump out the window,” I said.
“That doesn’t exactly sound like fun, Ryan Dean.”
“The dudes I got the beer from upstairs . . .”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
I didn’t say it. You know, the thing I’d never tell anyone about Seanie Flaherty and Spotted John Nygaard, who, by the way, had a major hickey on his collarbone, which made him even more spotted. But I didn’t say that, either.
“They were smoking pot,” I said.
“You ever do that?” Nico asked.
“No. You?”
“Nah. Well, I did a couple times, but I’m not into it.”
“I was thinking, between the Abernathy, me, and you, there’s, like, three real nutcases in this one tiny room.”
“The lunatics have taken over Pine Mountain,” Nico said.
I laughed. “Can I ask you something?”
“Aren’t you tired?”
I rubbed my eyes. “I am. I’m trying to stay awake, though.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Nico understood. “I still get scared at night once in a while.”
“It’s messed up,” I said. “Sometimes I feel like there’s this demon following me around and he’s just waiting to drop the next terrible thing right in my lap.”
“You can’t live your life like that, bro,” Nico said.
“I know that.”
“Well? What did you want to ask me?”
“Was it tough, deciding not to come to PM?” I asked.
“Nah. Well, I wanted to come, but I think my mom really needs me to stick around her. She’s scared. You know?” Nico said.
“You probably can’t live your life like that, either.”
“I kinda don’t want to talk about this,” Nico said.
“Sorry, man.”
“No worries, bro.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m all alone too. I mean, I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
“You have lots of friends, though. And a girlfriend who’s pretty amazing. And she’s totally hot.”
I pictured Annie blushing when she met Nico. I didn’t think I liked him calling her hot, even if she was. And then I felt bad for all the times I thought so many women and girls were hot. Well, not bad, but weird and guilty, maybe.
Damn those Mrs. Blyleven consent/respect/Penis Commandment lectures!
So I said, “Thanks.”
“I don’t have any friends anymore. I just shut myself off from everyone. Decided I didn’t need or want anyone to be close to me. My friends—they all pretty much stopped talking to me anyway, and I haven’t been trying to talk to them, either.”
I rolled over so I could see Nico on the floor. “Oh. I’m really sorry, man.”
“It’s all right. I figure I don’t really want to be around anyone anyway.”
“Yeah. Because what’s the point, right?”
“Exactly.”
I said, “Um, I’m your friend, Nico.”
And I was glad it was pretty dark, because I felt myself getting embarrassed when I told him that. But Nico didn’t say anything, so after a few seconds I reached my opened hand out, wh
ere he could see it hanging over his chest.
“No offense, bro. I really don’t want any friends.”
“Oh. Yeah. I get that, I guess.” I pulled my hand back. “So, are you going to play on your rugby club this year?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should. You can’t quit the game,” I said.
“Sure I can.”
“I have an idea. You should come to Pine Mountain,” I said.
Nico turned over so he was facing away from me. He didn’t say another word, and eventually we both fell asleep.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
NATE DIDN’T COME BACK THAT night, so I managed to sleep without scaring the crap out of Nico by screaming or crying in the middle of the night.
So I guess that was something.
But I felt stupid and awkward about trying to be friends with Nico, so we didn’t really say anything to each other after the alarm clock woke us up. We got dressed in silence. Nico put his Pine Mountain disguise back on in order to blend in with all the other boys who looked exactly alike, so he could come to breakfast with me. Well, not with me, because it wasn’t like we were friends or anything. Then we left Sam Abernathy alone so he could shower or poop, or do his TSE, all of which were things I never, ever wanted to think about the Abernathy doing ever again.
After we picked up our food in the cafeteria, I saw Annie and Isabel sitting together, so we joined them. For some reason, I couldn’t keep my eyes off Isabel.
“Ryan Dean, are you blushing?” Annie asked.
“What? Uh. No?”
To be honest, just thinking about Isabel and that jerkoff JP Tureau having actual sex made me feel extremely flustered, so, yes, I was blushing. But I said, “It just feels really hot in here.”
Then I slipped my finger inside my necktie and tugged it loose.
Nico said good morning to the girls, and I watched as they both cast big baby-seal love eyes at him. Damn. Why’d he have to be so good looking and perfect? And why couldn’t we be friends? That really sucked.
“Did you guys have fun last night?” Isabel asked.
I realized that everything Isabel ever said to me from that moment on would forever sound like she was talking about having sex. I was burning with jealousy, because I liked Isabel, and also because Annie and I hadn’t quite done it yet, and thinking about it was driving me crazy.
Nico shrugged. “Yeah. I had fun.”
And I touched Annie’s thigh and added, “Seanie’s letting me ride with you to the airport today. Then I’m going to catch a bus back from Beaverton.”
“Why don’t you just stay at Seanie’s?” Annie asked.
I shook my head. That would never happen. “His parents make me go to church. It could get ugly. I wouldn’t want to spontaneously combust in the pews next to all those Christian folk.”
Then—score!—Annie blushed. She must have thought I was talking about how we had fooled around together on our detour during the “run” and committed the Sin of Onan, for which we both should be smitten.
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 hav
e 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.