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?
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
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.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
SENIOR PROM
OKAY. SO, YOU KNOW HOW sometimes you can be so stubborn about adapting to the way things are that you fail to appreciate the simple fact that the way things are is actually not only not bad, but—to be honest—pretty good, but you insist on getting all hung up on imagining all the failures and negative qualities of Joe Randomkid a.k.a. Sam Abernathy a.k.a. Stan Abercrombie a.k.a. Snack-Pack a.k.a. one of the best friends you ever had, but instead of appreciating that stuff—like how cool it is (like, literally freezing at times) living in Unit 113, even if it is smaller than most hamster cages I’ve seen before—you keep imagining this dark dude following you everywhere, just waiting for an opportunity to drop some horrible thing on your life and ruin everything, so you make him all big and real, and then you even give him a name—Nate (Next Accidental Terrible Experience)—and all the while you miss stuff, like how much people care about you, or how much you love rugby, your family, your girlfriend, and even (gross) your school, and how it might not be easy to let go of things that dragged you down in the past, even if it is possible to move on and, by doing so, let those things get more and more distant, and it only requires your willingness to allow those things to recede, but you’re too stubborn, thinking about how horrible everything is, painting every wall in the house of your life the most terrible colors, even if all the good stuff that needs—deserves—your appreciation goes unnoticed?
Yeah. All that and more.
So in his senior year at Pine Mountain Academy, Ryan Dean West came to appreciate things that he’d tried to resist, and one of those things was change.
I couldn’t remember ever sleeping as good as I slept that first night when Nico Cosentino moved into our dorm and Sam and I stayed up way too late with him watching TV and laughing about all kinds of ridiculous things. And the next day, which was a Sunday, I really appreciated the code and that Unit 113 was a ground-floor dorm room, because Nico took the Abernathy away for a couple hours (I asked him to do this) after Annie Altman came back from her trip home, and then Annie snuck in to my room through our permanently opened window, which I then promptly closed and covered.
Let me tell you how much I appreciated that. Well, to be honest, how much both of us—Annie and I—did.
Afterward, we lay together in my Princess Snugglewarm sheets and blankets, in a rickety bunk bed that was not long enough to contain my feet, and it was one of those warm and close moments between Annie and me that I wished would never end. But that wouldn’t be a good thing, right? Because eventually we’d need to get up and go places and do more good things.
“I really appreciate this,” I said.
Annie laughed. “I love you, Ryan Dean.”
And I said, “I think things are going to be okay, Annie.”
I started my senior year at Pine Mountain assuming that everything would be easy. It took me a long time to learn that the only reason things weren’t easy for me was because of me—Ryan Dean West. Mrs. Dvorak helped me see that, but I would never have had the guts to talk to her in the first place if I didn’t have friends like Sam Abernathy, Nico Cosentino, and, especially, Annie Altman.
I’m going to Berkeley next year. I checked, and there are other sixteen-year-old kids who’ll be at Cal too. Imagine that—for the first time in my life I won’t be an “only.” Not that I care about that stuff anymore. In the long run, a guy has to grow up, right? And Annie got into Cal too. That guarantees we’re going to be late more than a few times on turning in assignments, not that I even know if they make kids do actual assignments at Berkeley.
Sam Abernathy gets to be the “only” now. I’ll miss living in the same refrigerator box with him and Nico, but I know that we’ll always be friends, no matter how grown-up we all get, which is kind of gross and also something I never want to think about again—being bald and being used to everything, and not thinking anything at all is such a big deal. Who wants to be like that?
I know I’m not ready for it.
br /> Rugby season ended in April. Pine Mountain came in second place in the Pacific Northwest Rugby Football Union. So, rugby is all over for me. I can’t imagine I’d ever be able to play at Cal. Have you ever seen their team? Huge and scary. So unless they’re in the market for a winger who’s a small and fast guy who’s pretty much not afraid of getting smashed, my future in rugby is going to be sitting in the stands. To be honest, I was kind of happy that we came in second, because if we’d won the union, we would have had to go on to nationals, which meant I would have missed going to Pine Mountain’s senior prom with Annie Altman.
The prom is tonight.
It’s a kind of ridiculous affair, because our entire senior class has ninety-six kids in it, and I found out that there are only about thirty couples going to the prom. And no, we’re not all girl-boy couples either. We may make a lot of cheese in Oregon, but we’re pretty much above the bar when it comes to not paying too much attention to stuff that doesn’t matter. But—God!—that could have been the thesis statement for my entire senior year, right?
“How do you even know how to tie a bow tie?” I ask.
All day, Nico and the Abernathy have been hovering around me, just watching me get ready. What else could they do, anyway? If one of us stands up in Unit 113, the other two can’t even watch TV.
“I’ve been tying bow ties by myself since I was, like, seven,” the Abernathy says.
“Which was what? Last month?”
“Do you want me to make it look nice or what, Ryan Dean?”
“Sorry, Sam. Don’t choke me, dude.”
“If you do choke him, I’ll steal the tuxedo and take Annie to the prom,” Nico says.
“Nice try, but you’re a freshman,” I say.
“Good point. But you’re only four months older than me.”
And the Abernathy brushes something away from my collar and says, “There. Done.”
Nico peers down from his spot on the top bunk. “High five, bro.”
I slap his hand, and then the Abernathy’s little pink palm too.
“Thanks, Sam,” I say.
“You’re going to be late. Annie’s probably already waiting, alone, by the door,” Sam says.
The prom is in the sports complex.
Fancy.
“Never talk about my girlfriend again,” I say, and Nico and Sam both laugh because they know all about what an ass I’d been. That’s not cussing, right?
But the little tadpole is right: Annie probably is waiting, and I can’t even begin to appreciate how grateful I am for all the waiting Annie Altman has invested in me.
At the door, I pause and look back at my friends. “In about six weeks, I’ll be graduating.” I shake my head. “What am I going to do without you guys?”
“One thing,” Nico says, and then, making fun of me, adds, “Well, maybe two. First, you’re not going to be without us, bro. And, second, dude, Annie Altman.”
“Okay. Just don’t eat all the popcorn before I come home tonight.”
Because Sam is right, and Annie is waiting.
ANDREW SMITH is the author of several award-winning novels for young adults, including Winger and 100 Sideways Miles. He lives in a remote area in the mountains of Southern California with his family, two horses, two dogs, and three cats. He doesn’t watch television and occupies himself by writing, bumping into things outdoors, and taking ten-mile runs on snowy trails. He maintains a blog about his strange writing life at ghostmedicine.blogspot.com.
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Winger
100 Sideways Miles
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2015 by Andrew Smith
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Smith, Andrew (Andrew Anselmo), 1959–
Stand-off / Andrew Smith.
pages cm
Summary: Now a senior at Pine Mountain Academy, fifteen-year-old Ryan Dean West becomes captain of the rugby team, shares his dormitory room with a twelve-year-old prodigy, Sam Abernathy, and through the course of the year learns to appreciate things he has tried to resist, including change.
ISBN 978-1-4814-1829-4 (hardback) — ISBN 978-1-4814-1831-7 (eBook)
[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Boarding schools—Fiction. 3. High schools—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Rugby football—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.S64257St 2015
[Fic]—dc23
2015002163
Andrew Smith, Stand-Off
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