Some Are Sicker Than Others (11 page)

“Aw for Christ’s sake,” Dave said then snagged Larry by the collar and pulled him away from the puddle of puke. “What’d you have to do that for?” The kid looked up at his dad and started crying, the tears mixing with the chocolate-colored vomit. “Well, don’t cry about it. It’s nothing to cry about.” Dave cursed under his breath as he reached into his gym bag, looking for something he could use to wipe Larry’s face. But there was nothing in there, so he untied his shoelaces, pulled off his last sock, and used it as a puke rag. The kid squirmed and squealed as Dave cleaned off the vomit. “Stop moving, Larry. You’re only gonna make it worse.”

“Oh my God,” Sarah said, looking at them in horror. “What’s wrong with him? Is he sick?”

“Yeah, he’s got a touch of flu, I think.”

“Oh no. Poor thing.”

“Yeah, poor thing.”

Dave finished wiping off all the vomit then flung the sock onto the yard. He had to clench his jaw to keep from losing it. What was this kid trying to do, get him fired?

He pulled the keys from his pocket, but lost his grip and dropped them to the ground. “God damnit.” He bent over to get them, but nearly lost his footing on the icy asphalt. Luckily, he grabbed hold of the bus’s side mirror and used it as leverage to regain his balance.

“Whoa careful coach,” Sarah said, jumping towards him, her hands out to the side like she was gonna try and catch him.

“I got it, I got it,” Dave said, holding his hand up to her. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m just a little dizzy. I think I probably have what Larry has.”

“Oh no. Are you sure you’re going to be okay to drive?”

“Oh yeah, no problem.” Dave nodded his head reassuringly then crouched to the ground and snagged the keys. “See,” he said, as he jammed the keys into the lock and swung open the doors. “It’s no problem. I’m a professional.”

Sarah nodded somewhat suspiciously. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Actually, would you mind counting the girls and making sure we’re all here?”

“I already did that coach. They’re all here. We’re good to go.”

“Well alright then, what are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road.”

Before Sarah could say anything else, Dave jumped on board, cranked on the ignition, turned up the heat, and revved up the engine.  “Come on, Larry,” he said, holding his hand out to him. “I want you sitting up here with daddy.” The kid nodded and climbed on the school bus then took his seat just behind his dad in the front row. “Alright, let’s go girls. Hustle, hustle. We got a big game to win tonight.”

As the girls piled on, Dave pulled his seat forward and adjusted the mirror so he could see Larry’s eyeballs. Once the last girl was on, he released the emergency brake then pulled the long, metal lever that shut the doors. “Alright,” he said, as he looked into the rear of the school bus. “Is everyone on?”

“
Yes
,” the girls replied.

“Okay then. Let’s blow this taco stand.”

He released the clutch and slammed down the gas pedal and the bus took off roaring down the road.

It took them twenty minutes just to get through downtown Boulder—rush hour traffic was horrible this time of day—but they finally made it and were flying up the foothills highway towards thirty-six then onto Lyons.

As Dave shifted into third and checked the speedometer, he felt his phone vibrate against his leg. He pulled it out and flipped it open. Cheryl’s name appeared like a death threat flashing across the display. Oh great, just as he suspected. He figured it was only a matter of time before she called. She was probably freaking out, looking for Larry, wondering why he didn’t show up at her sister’s house. Good. Let her worry. About time she thought of someone other than herself.

He flipped the phone closed and shoved it back in his pocket then looked at Larry sitting Indian style beside him on the floor. The kid was picking his nose and playing with the buttons on the cassette player, trying to shove in some old beat-up tape. “You better not break that thing,” Dave said as he checked his mirrors and shifted into second.

“I’m not gonna break it, daddy. I’m juth twying to git to my favit thong.”

“Oh yeah and what’s that?”

“
Magic Bus
.”

“
Magic Bus
?”

“Yeah.”

“Who sings that?”

“
Who
.”

“What?”

“
Who
things it.”

“I don’t know who sings it. That’s why I’m asking you god damnit.”

The kid wagged his head and started laughing. “No, daddy…
Who
things it.”

“God damnit Larry, what the fuck is wrong with you? I just told you I don’t know who sings it. I’m asking you who sings it.”

“Thath what I’m trying da tell you daddy. Ith
The Who
. Thath da name othuh band.
The Who
.”

“
The Who
?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell kind a name is
The Who
?”

“You know
The Who
.”

“No, I don’t know no damn
Who
.”

“But we pwayed it afta da chuckle board.”

“Aw for Christ’s sake, Larry would you please stop it with the god damn chuckle board? We didn’t play any fucking chuckle board.”

“Yeth we did.”

“No we didn’t.”

“Yeth we did.”

“NO WE DIDN’T!” Dave slammed his hands against the steering wheel so hard that it shook the driver side doors. “God damnit Larry, just stop talking! I can’t play games with you right now! You’re driving me nuts!”

The kid shrugged and pushed the tape into the cassette player then hit the play button and cranked up the volume. The song began with a strange arrangement of percussions. It sounded like wooden sticks being banged against a basketball pole. Then, along came the guitar and the singer’s high-pitched vocals that made Dave cringe because they were so obnoxiously nasal. To make matters worse, Larry started screeching along with the lyrics as he strummed away on his air guitar.

“You wanna turn that thing down?” Dave said, as he flipped on his high beams, peering like an owl out through the windshield.

“Come on, Daddy. Thith ith da beth part.”

“It’s too loud. I can’t hear myself think.”

Dave glanced into the rearview mirror trying to keep an eye on the back of the bus. It was a circus back there. The girls were up and dancing in the aisle, their tight green shirts rolled up and tied at the waist. Every time they lifted their arms, Dave got an eyeful of those tight, young abdominals. Their belly buttons seemed to wink at him as they arched their backs.

“Hey girls,” he said, glancing behind him. “You wanna save some of that energy for the match tonight?”

The girls ignored him and continued dancing, their muscular, volleyball player legs grinding against the backs of the seats.

“God damn,” Dave muttered as he turned back towards the windshield. What he’d do to those girls if they were just a little older. He’d take those legs and wrap ‘em around him and bury his nose into those young, curly muffs. He got goose bumps just thinking about it. If only they weren’t so fucking young.

He shook off the goose bumps then flipped on the wipers as light flakes of snow began to float against the windshield. Christ, look at this shit. What a disaster. Thought they said it wasn’t supposed to snow until tomorrow. Idiots. Fucking meteorologists. They wouldn’t know a snow storm if it hit ‘em in the dick.

He leaned forward and strained his eyeballs, trying to figure out how far they were along. Just then, Sarah came running up behind him, her soft, sweet breath blowing against the back of his neck.

“Hey coach, can we stop for a pee break?”

“What?” Dave turned around and looked at her—her nipples were like little strawberries poking through her tight, green uniform.

“Can we stop? I have to pee.”

“Already? We just got on the road.”

“I know coach, but I have to go.”

“Can’t you hold it?”

“No, coach.” She crossed her legs and began gyrating up and down in an “I gotta go pee” dance. “Please coach,” she said, her voice soft and raspy, like a child prostitute trying to sell a hand job. “Pretty please, I’ll do anything you say.” She reached up, put her hands around Dave’s shoulders, and began to dig her fingers into his neck muscles.

“What are you doing, Sarah?”

“I’m giving you a massage. Doesn’t it feel good?”

Almost immediately, Dave felt a tingling sensation move from the back of his head down to his nuts. His muscles went limp, his eyes rolled backward, and his dick got hard and pressed up against his zipper. “Please stop that Sarah,” he said mumbling, one eye closed, his tongue hanging out. “I can’t concentrate with you doing that.”

“Only if you promise to stop.”

Dave looked down. His dick was enormous. It looked a zucchini was shoved down his pants. “Alright, alright,” he said, trying to push the zucchini downward, “but only if you go back and sit down with the rest of the girls. I can’t have you up here while I’m trying to drive.”

Sarah squealed then wrapped her arms around Dave’s shoulders, hugged his neck, and gave him a wet kiss on the cheek. Then, she spun around, whipping her long, blond hair outward, adjusted her bra and strutted back to her seat. As she went, Dave took a peak in the rearview mirror, watching as that tight, little ass wagged back and forth. “God damn,” he muttered, trying to flatten out his penis. These fucking girls were gonna be the death of him.

He exhaled deeply and shook off the tingling then moved his eyes to the clock on the dash. Christ, it was almost five-thirty. At this rate, they’d be lucky if they made it up there before the end of the JV game. But, did it really matter? What would the referees do? Forfeit the game? Please. They’d be doing him a favor. At least then, he’d get to go home early and curl up in bed. He needed some sleep. He felt like a fucking zombie. He could barely keep his eyes open let alone coach a god damn volleyball game. Maybe he
should
stop, just for a few minutes. He could sneak a couple quick hits somewhere while the girls were off taking their pee break. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? Hell, a few hits would probably be good for him.

He eased on the brake and put on his turn signal then pulled off at the next exit on the side of the highway. There was a gas station there, an old Citgo, with a couple self-service pumps and some vending machines.

He pulled into the lot beside a semi that was packed with tree logs covered with a layer of slick snow. He lifted the emergency brake, cut the ignition, and turned his head towards the back of the bus. “Alright girls,” he said, as he pulled himself upward, “we’re gonna stop for just a few minutes. This is your last chance before we get up to Estes, so make it count.”

The girls all got up, pulled on their jackets, and filed out of the bus and into the parking lot. Larry just sat there in his seat smirking, watching as the girls brushed by him. He had a look on his face of deep concentration as if he was counting the number of boobs he saw go by.

“Larry,” Dave said, snapping his fingers. “Stop staring. And put your damn tongue back in your mouth. You’re drooling all over the place.”

Larry quickly put his hands up over his eyeballs, but snuck a peek through the little slit between his fingers.

Once the last girl was out, Dave zipped up his jacket then tugged on his wool beanie and pulled on his gloves. “Alright,” he said, as he peered out the windshield, looking for a good place where he could sneak away and smoke. “You gotta pee, Larry?”

The kid nodded.

“Me too. Let’s go.”

He grabbed the kid’s hand and pulled him out into the parking lot, and together they walked around the front of the bus towards the opposite side of the road. There was a little, white shack back there, what looked like an old restaurant, and lucky for him, the place was closed for the winter. It was perfect—the perfect cover, tucked underneath an umbrella of snow covered Douglas Firs. “Okay,” Dave said, looking back towards the gas station, “I’d say we got about ten minutes to go pee.”

“Ten?” Larry said.

“Yeah. Here.” Dave guided the kid over to some bushes. “You go over there by those bushes and I’ll go over here by the shack.”

The kid looked back at him with a confused expression. It was obvious he didn’t want to be left alone. “But daddy—”

“Don’t argue with me, Larry. There’s no time. Just go.”

The kid scowled then slunk away behind the bushes, his pudgy ankles disappearing into about a foot of snow.

Once he was gone, Dave pulled out his pipe, lighter, and red plastic pill bottle, first checking to make sure no one was around. He did a couple quick hits then tilted his head backward, feeling as the crack surged through his blood. He did a couple more just for good measure, but came to a sudden stop when he felt his phone vibrating against his leg. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He pulled it out and flipped it open. Big fucking surprise, it was Cheryl. What was her deal? Was she stupid? Didn’t she understand he didn’t have time to talk?

“Christ almighty.” He mashed his thumb against the power button, waited for it to turn off then shoved it in his pocket. There. Now, try and call him. See how fucking far you get with the power turned off.

He chuckled to himself and returned to his lighter, lit up again, and went for another hit. But, before he could suck in the smoke, he felt someone’s presence, their feet crunching behind him in the snow. He snapped his head around. Oh Jesus, it was just Larry, the kid looking up at him with a curious grin. “God damnit, Larry, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing sneaking up on your daddy like that?”

“I’m finished,” the kid said, with proud assurance as if he’d just accomplished something really profound. “And I did it all by mythelf.”

“Well, good for you.”

Dave wrapped his lips around the cylinder then did another quick hit and looked back across the road. The girls were getting back from their pee break forming a line by the bus’s front doors. “Alright,” he said, turning to Larry. “Guess we should get back over there. You ready?”