Prince Charming (26 page)

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I finally managed. “Really sorry.”

“Just go, Geoff,” she said, after another moment passed. “Please go.”

I held my feelings inside until I stopped the car at the stop sign at the end of the street. That whole conversation hadn’t gone the way I’d imagined it would, at all. What a disaster. I beat my fists against the steering wheel, and screamed a few times. Then I yelled a couple of choice words—most of which involved some version of the word “fuck.” It didn’t make me feel much better. Then, after a few seconds, I found the strength to drive home.

My bed had never seemed so comforting. I fell onto it, wrapped myself in the striped comforter, and fell asleep.

I
woke up hours later, my brain still a foggy mess. At first, I thought maybe it hadn’t happened. Maybe I hadn’t skipped the AP test, lost the one girl I cared about, and become an Internet laughing stock all in one day. Maybe I’d been stuck in a nightmare, like one of those “After School Special” TV clichés.

But that didn’t last for very long. Oh, no. My misery was real—too real, and I couldn’t sleep it away, no matter how much I tried.

I glanced at my watch and saw it was almost four p.m. Holy shit. I bolted out of bed. Blake and Bruce would be home. Right then. I bet they were in the kitchen, eating huge snacks, pleased with themselves and totally unconcerned about what they did to me. They’d probably been home for a while, those assholes. I couldn’t let them get away with this at all.

Confrontation time.

Stumbling down the stairs, I tried to gather my thoughts and figure out what I would say. Maybe I wouldn’t say anything at all. Maybe I needed to just punch them. I could pretend like it never happened, and that might freak them out. Or I could start screaming just before I hit the kitchen, giving them fair warning that I was about to unleash a fury on them.

In the end, I kinda mixed a couple of ideas together. Something about hearing their laughter in the kitchen just sort of set me off. It hit me deep in my core, as if their laughter was some kind of veiled insult directed at me, and only me. Oh hell, no. They were not going to get away with this.

“Nice work guys,” I said from the doorframe that linked the kitchen with the wide great room in the center of the house. Blake looked over at me, a popcorn-stuffed hand poised to hit his mouth. Bruce, on the other hand, took a calm sip of his Coke, and didn’t even bother to glance in my direction.

“Really, good work,” I continued. “Your best yet.” I took a step inside the kitchen. “You know, I knew you guys had a problem with me, but I didn’t know you hated me this much.”

Bruce snickered.

Blake stuffed the popcorn into his mouth and chewed, as if whatever I was saying didn’t bother him in the least. “Who says we hate you?” he said, giving me a full view of the food in his mouth. “We don’t hate you, dear brother.”

“Whatever,” Bruce added, as if he were talking to a small child who needed extra help understanding something. “What would make you think we hated you now?”

“I saw the flyers.” I struggled to keep myself steady as my hands formed two fists at my sides. They knew full well what I was referring to. I knew they did; there was no way they couldn’t. “I know what you did. Nice work on going through my iPhone, and then sharing it with everyone.”

“Oh, that,” Blake said calmly. “Right. Well. Someone had to point it out. Your fault that you didn’t lock up your phone. Shoulda’ done that one.”

“Oh, really?” I heard and felt my anger rising with each ticking second. “You want to blame me for this? You guys knew what you were doing. You wanted to make me look like an idiot, and ruin my life.”

“We did not ruin your sad little life,” Blake said. “So stop being such a dramatic prick.”

“I’m not being a dramatic prick.” I crossed the room until I stood right next to the chair where Blake sat. “I’m not. You’re the assholes! All I have ever done is try to help you. I’ve been nice to you. I’ve left you alone. And all you do is treat me like you hate me.”

“Everyone hates you, Geoff.” Blake’s calm tone didn’t match my urgent one, and that made me even madder.

“I’m so sick—I’m so sick of—I’m so sick of you!” I yelled.

And that’s when I punched him.

My right fist landed with a crack on the bridge of his nose. The cartilage snapped and creaked as my fist made contact, and for a split second I had the upper hand as I pulled back, then hit his face again, this time in the left eye. By the time I pulled back a third time, though, Bruce had jumped out of his seat, and he grabbed my arm as I prepared to send my fist colliding with Blake’s face. As Bruce restrained me, a now bloody Blake sailed his fist into my stomach, then my jaw, my nose, and finally his right cross slammed into my left eye.

“Let me go,” I shouted as his fist made contact. I struggled against Bruce’s tight grip as Blake’s fist met my stomach again. “Ooof. Let me fucking go, assholes.”

“I hate you,” Blake said. I crumpled up against his brother, and doubled over in pain. “You’re like a symbol of everything that’s wrong with our lives. Mr. Perfect: the asshole.”

“I’m not perfect,” I mumbled, and as I did blood started to drip down my nose. “Far from it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve been wrong about a lot of stuff.”

“Maybe we should stop,” Bruce said to his brother. “He’s pretty bloody, and so are you.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Blake wipe some blood off his nose. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. I think he gave me a black eye, anyway.”

Once Bruce released me, I made sure I looked them booth in the eye, swallowing any fear I had, and turning all my emotions into anger. “Don’t ever threaten me again,” I said in the strongest voice I had. “Don’t ever talk to me like I’m less than again. Ever. Leave me the fuck alone, and I’ll do the same with you. Got it?”

As soon as they nodded in agreement, I turned and walked out of the room.

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F
RIDAY, MAY 17TH

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W
HEN I DIDN’T come downstairs for breakfast, Mom brought breakfast to me. She walked up the stairs with a bagel and glass of orange juice to find me still in bed. The last day of high school had finally come, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up and even try to act like I cared.

“You’re not going, honey?” She said when I didn’t get up from the bed.

“Nope, I’m not.” I’d been awake for about thirty minutes. My clothes lay draped and untouched over the chair at my desk, and my book bag rested in a heap beneath them. They disgusted me, and so did my eye, which throbbed.

Blake had a great right cross. I needed to remember that for next time.

“But what about—”

“What does it matter, Mom? I don’t have any exams today. And it’s not like we’re doing anything but practicing for graduation.”

She put the food on the desk, tightened her robe, and took a seat at the edge of my bed. “That eye of yours is really coming in. You’ll have a nice shiner for the ceremony tomorrow.”

“I don’t care.” Then I bit back a smile. “Does Blake’s eye still look bad, too?”

“It does. The bruise is pretty big.” She bit back a smile. “And his nose doesn’t look so great, either.”

“Good.” I didn’t even try to hide my delight. I gave him what he deserved. Well, he really deserved more than that, but maybe my punch had sent a message. “Maybe he’ll remember for next time.”

“I don’t like to hear about you guys fighting like that.” She sighed. “It’s really hard for me, you know, to always know what to do.”

“They’re assholes. Jerks.”

“They don’t always treat you very well. You’re right about that.”

I sighed, exasperated. “Mom, they hacked into my phone, looked through my personal photos, found one of me with Laine, and shared it with everyone!”

“I know. David and I discussed it with them.”

“You did?” I sat up in bed, adjusting myself against the fluffy pillows. I didn’t take my eyes off of her. I needed her to answer this question.

“We did. They know it was unacceptable.” She scooted closer to me. “We’ve made that very clear. Both of them had their allowance cut.”

“They did?” I said, unable to hide my surprise. “Good.”

“You sound shocked, honey.”

“Just didn’t expect that. That was bullshit what they did,” I muttered. “Total bullshit.” I didn’t need to add that it might have singlehandedly ruined my love life.

“You know I hate it when you cuss, Geoff.” She sounded more half-hearted than upset.

“Well, that’s the best word for this,” I said. Then the bagel caught my eye. She had fixed it just the way I liked, toasted with honey nut cream cheese. “Thanks for the breakfast.”

She got up, grabbed the plate and the glass from the desk, and handed them to me. I gulped down some of the juice and took an eager bite into the bagel. She watched me, a half amused expression on her face.

“You know, I’m really proud that you’re going to be salutatorian,” she said, once I’d eaten about half of the bagel. “That’s pretty awesome. More than awesome. What an accomplishment. And you’re going to UVA. That’s even better.”

“I still haven’t figured out what I want to major in,” I told her, after I swallowed. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but I can’t decide.”

“You don’t have to decide right now.” A wistful smile came over her face. “Have you thought about your speech for tomorrow?”

“No,” I admitted. “That’s what I want to do today, while I stay home.”

She cocked her head. “So I can’t convince you to go back to Heritage one more time? Just once more?”

I shook my head.

“I guess I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to go either.” She stood up from the bed and walked to the doorframe. Then she turned around. “You know, Geoff, I really do love you. And I’m sorry if you haven’t felt that way in a while.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

About fifteen minutes after she left, still in my boxer shorts and T-shirt, I turned on the computer. I had one more thing to do before I could leave high school behind and never think about my life there again. I had to get through my graduation speech.

And graduation.

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S
ATURDAY, MAY 18

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N
O MATTER WHERE you were in America, high school graduation ceremonies were all pretty much the same: plenty of tears, lots of photos, and kids hugging and hanging onto each other, while they proclaimed they would always stay in touch.

David grunted as he slid the BMW into a parking spot in the church parking lot across the street from school. At his request, I’d ridden with him and Mom to the ceremony, and the twins caught a ride with their mom, Caroline. “I want to talk to you a minute, Geoff.”

“Okay,” I replied as David motioned for Mom to hop out of the car. Once she shut the door, he braced his hands on the wheel. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s just fine,” he said, looking at me through the rear-view mirror. “I just haven’t found the time to say something to you that I wanted to say.” He paused. “I’m very proud of the person you are becoming, Geoff.”

I swallowed, and sank further into the leather seat. “You are?”

“Yes.” He took his hands off the wheel and turned to me a little. “You’ve done a lot of growing this year. Of course, your grades are outstanding. But it’s the other stuff.”

“I thought you hated me. Didn’t want me around.”

He sighed. “I didn’t know how to handle another teenage boy.” He gestured with one hand to the twins and their mother, who by then had met up with Mom in the parking lot. They all stood about ten feet away from the car, waiting for us to get out. “And you know I have my hands full with those two.”

I laughed.

“Nice shiner on Blake, by the way,” David said.

“I was mad.”

“You’ve been mad for a long time, haven’t you?” His voice had turned warmer. “I know you miss your dad. And that you sometimes feel out of place at school.”

Wow. He’d been noticing a lot about me. More than I had expected.

“I’m glad I get to leave Robert Hill soon,” I admitted, my eyes following the sea of students in graduation gowns, and parents with cameras. “Get to start my life. My real life.”

“It’s already started.” David pulled the keys out of the car and opened the driver side door. “And you have a big speech to make.” With one foot on the pavement, he looked back at me. “Just make your mother proud. And me.”

“I will,” I said as I opened my car door, too.

As we walked toward school, the twins acted like they might have been celebrities. They kept stopping to take photos with anyone they could find, even classmates of ours I knew they didn’t like. It was funny to watch them, since they both had signature poses they did over and over again for each photo. They would have thought of something like that. It was just their kind of obnoxious style. I felt a twinge of jealousy, though, because one thing was obvious: the rest of my classmates would miss the twins.

I couldn’t say the same for myself.

“Well,” Mom said when we all arrived at Heritage’s front entrance, “I guess we’ll let you all get ready from here.” She nodded in the direction of a clump of students headed to the side entrance of the school auditorium.