Still Waters (7 page)

“Good luck with that.”

“I’ll still pay you. Nothing has changed. I just need you to hang out with me. Act like we’re friends. Come to the party tomorrow.”

“What’s going to happen there?”

An acid-edged laugh cut out of Michael’s chest. “It’s a party. You’ve heard of them, right?”

He reached for the steering wheel, squeezed like it was a throat. “I don’t have to tell you jack, Ice. I didn’t have to tell you any of this. You either want the money, or not. So are you in or out?”

Maybe even he didn’t know if he was bluffing or not.

I didn’t answer. Imagined Lonzo Cesare, a violent but small-time gangster milking a high schooler for his daddy’s cash.

I remembered giving the money to Janie last night. Her little claps and how she counted the pathetic roll of bills before hiding the can again.

“Fine,” I said.

O
n the way back to school, Michael said he’d explain his face to the others by saying he and I had decided to ditch and go to a convenience store that would sell us beer. But when we got there, some kids I knew from Lincoln Green picked a fight. They’d jumped Michael while I was inside, but then I came out in hero mode, and kicked their asses.

The secretary in the office heard a similar story, except we hadn’t decided to ditch, we were running late, and we weren’t after beer, but soda.

She gave us tardy slips and told us to wait for the bell, which was only a few minutes away.

“Why even show up? We should have ditched the whole day,” I mumbled.

Michael gingerly sank into a seat by the plate glass. “And miss the chance to show off this shiner and brag about the fight? Never.”

We waited. I stood next to him, trying to enjoy the jumpy eyes of office staff and student aides. Trying to ignore the appraising glances at both my clothes and Michael’s face.

The bell finally rang, and we headed into the throng of students. Muffled exclamations greeted Michael’s face. He smiled and walked on like their gossip would be nothing but pure adoration.

He turned at the courtyard door and stretched an arm out to me, making sure everyone saw as he flaunted my presence along with his face.

We pushed through the double doors and walked into the prep throng. It wasn’t like the talking stopped completely, but it sure got quieter.

“Holy . . .” T-Man walked over. “What happened, man?” His eyes took in Michael’s face.

I stopped next to Michael and stared out at the rest of the group.

Michael spun the story quickly and effortlessly. He shot a knowing grin at me, the only concession that his story wasn’t entirely true.

T-Man and Dwight cursed and started talking about vengeance. Michael shook his head slightly, and they stopped. There was a lull as their eyes shifted from Michael’s face to my clothes. Next subject of conversation. So much gossip to get through before the bell.

I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.

Cyndra lifted a side of the zip-front hoodie, smiling expectantly. “Looking good, Ice.” A compliment to her taste in clothes more than my look.

She tugged the shoulders of the hoodie off my back.

I knocked her hands away.

“Relax. It’s warm. You don’t need it.”

I shook my head.

Cyndra sighed and the corner of her mouth twisted. “What, you think I’m going to jump you or something? Get over yourself. I just want to see how the clothes fit.”

People eyeing me, wanting something. Laying hands on me. Throwing their influence like punches.

Me—taking it.

Something twisted in my gut.

Cyndra gave me a quick, secret smile. It was warm, not sexy, just real. Like the smile was saying
Please?

I took off the hoodie.

“Thank you,” she mouthed. Heaven forbid anyone actually heard her say the words.

“Perfect,” she said aloud. “Perfect fit.”

Monique slid over, squinting and half-smiling. She looked like a little girl playing sexy—and not actually succeeding.

“Day-um.” Her finger ran down my arm.

I pushed her hand away.

Cyndra laughed at her. Monique acted like it hadn’t happened. She stuck out a hip and propped a hand there.

“Nice threads, Cyn. Great shirt.” She blew a kiss at me. “Flex for me, Ice.”

“Screw you.”

Cyndra smiled. “It’s okay, Ice. Stop being so prickly. No one’s going to attack you.”

When she looked at me like that, I would do whatever she asked of me.

Michael laughed and clapped my shoulder. Loving it.

I glared at him.

He backed down, let go. Grabbed Cyndra and led her and the others a few steps away.

I blew out air and sat down on the bench.

Fifty dollars. Fifty dollars. Fifty dollars.

Michael murmured into Cyndra’s ear. She frowned at him before glancing back at me. She came back and sat on the bench next to me.

I didn’t say anything and tried not to look at her.

“Don’t do that, Jason.” Her voice was soft.

My eyebrows lifted.

“Don’t be mad,” she explained.

I let a burst of air out my nose and looked away again.

“You can look so scary sometimes,” she said. Like I should immediately smile at her and try to make her feel all safe.

“What do you want, Cyndra?” I looked at her finally.

“Don’t be mad.”

“Fine.” I smiled the smile she didn’t like. “Why should I be mad?” Wanted to ask if she understood. And why she cared.

Cyndra shook her head. Red-gold hair spilled over her shoulders. Then she shifted, sitting back and lifting her ankles onto my lap. She gave me a manufactured smile.

“Okay, Ice, you’re right. You shouldn’t be mad. Certainly not at me.” She edged her feet higher. I tensed, ready to push them away, but couldn’t take my eyes off her tiny toenails, polished like perfect candy apples.

“You like me, right? So don’t be mad.”

I told myself to brush her feet off my thighs. Stand up and walk away.

The whole thing was a display. Far from intimate or real. Or anything other than power and use.

I shoved her feet off my lap.

Before I could get up, she pressed me back and straddled my thighs.

My head was on fire. My eyes narrowed as my breathing all but stopped.

It was like that moment when you see his fist coming. Scarred, bone-ridge knuckles loading on you like a freight train, and you know it’s going to connect. And you know it’s going to hurt like hell.

What’s important is how you react.

I lashed her hips to my legs with one arm and wound my other hand in her hair, pulling her ear down to my lips.

“Stop playing games.”

Cyndra gasped and pushed against me feebly. “You’re hurting me.”

I wanted to see the tears. I wanted her vision blurry from trying to blink them back. I wanted her to cry, from being pushed and pulled. Wanted her to understand.

Users and the used. Which one was she?

I let go of her hair and shoved her off my lap.

She glared at me like it was the biggest insult in the world.

I stood and grabbed my books from the bench. Tried to look like I always look.

Uninvolved. Unemotional. Distanced.

T-Man and LaShonda backed away from me. Michael forced a smile.

“Your face looks like a doormat,” I said.

The smile disappeared.

When you can’t change the news, change the news cycle. His face was going to get plenty of play. I slammed through the double doors as the bell rang.

A
t lunch it was like nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had.

Michael talked about football practice and the team they would play for next week’s game. He talked like I knew all about it already, like I cared. Cyndra held court and didn’t look at me once. T-Man and Dwight hassled Beast about some lame remark he’d made in English. Beast was laughing like their taunts were fun, but if you checked his eyes, you could see the laughter didn’t reach all the way up.

For the rest of the classes that day, I pretended to be somewhere else or slept. After school I decided to skip the punching bag. Hoisting product at the building supply store and getting honest money (well, mostly honest money) would do as much for me as pounding a canvas bag would. Plus, nobody would show up there. Besides, Clay and his mom always took her paycheck and got groceries for the week on Friday afternoons, so he wouldn’t be home for a while.

Cyndra chased me down as I crossed the athletic field.

“Hey.” She stopped short from actually grabbing my arm. She handed me a fifty. “From Michael.”

I took it and waited.

She squinted at the press of kids hustling across the parking lot, all trying to be the first to get off campus.

“Sorry about today.” She glanced in my eyes and glanced away again.

I put my bag down and shook out a cigarette.

“Can I have one of those?” Cyndra asked, then held it to the flame of my lighter.

We smoked in silence for a moment.

“I can’t read you,” she said when our cigarettes were halfway done. “I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

Her lips closed on the filter.

“You’re not like the other guys,” she said, exhaling. It sounded like a line. She shifted her weight.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling in spite of myself, smiling at the way she looked so nervous and sexy all at once.

A relaxed smile crept across her face like a sunrise. The open expression of a kid who’s gotten away with something.

I pitched my stub into the grass. “Besides, I think I’ve got it figured out.”

Cyndra took a final drag and raised her eyebrows.

“He told you to. Another bet, right?” I asked. “A dare. You’re all betting who jumps me first.”

Another moneymaking proposition. Another way for me to earn my keep.

Users and the used.

She jammed her hands into her jeans and shifted her weight again. “That’s what you think of me?”

I shrugged. “It’s what I think of him. Doesn’t matter to me, but it explains that crap today and Monique and the ass parade yesterday. I’ve been in school with all of you since middle school, and suddenly I’m the stud.”

Cyndra shook her head. “Or there’s another possibility.”

I snorted.

“Maybe we like you.”

We.

Cyndra took a deep breath and watched a plane overhead. “Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Is it true?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“No, is it true about betting who jumps me first?”

She glared into my eyes. “Yeah, it’s true.”

“Then it may as well be you, princess.” I stepped closer. “If your boyfriend really doesn’t mind.”

Cyndra watched me like an exterminator watches a cockroach.

I stroked her arm. “I’m sure we can work out a price. A cut for me.”

This time, it was Cyndra who slapped my hand away. “You’re disgusting.”

“I’m a pragmatist. And I’m for sale, right? Just like anything. That’s what was going on at break.” The sneer crept into my voice.

“It wasn’t like that, I just—”

I waited.

“I just don’t know how else to be.” She rubbed her arm like I’d burned her. “I don’t know how to act around people.”

The T-shirt stretched as I shrugged. “Whatever. I’m sure you planned to give your winnings to charity.”

She actually laughed—a shout, boisterous and unaffected. “Yeah. Something worthwhile. The Schnauzer Rescue Fund.”

I couldn’t help it. I smiled.

“The real deal,” Cyndra said, glancing at my mouth. “Now I know I’m forgiven.”

I picked up my pack.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” she asked. “Five o’clock?”

“The party doesn’t start that early, does it?”

“Nah, but we have to go back to the mall, remember? I’ve got to finish shopping for your accoutrements.” She pronounced the last word with a little French accent, not trying to be seductive, just saying it the right way. Which made it sexy as hell.

“And before you ask, yes, I’ll pay you for the mall trip, and Michael will pay you for the party.”

I felt the corners of my mouth flatten. “Deal.”

“Then meet me here at five.” Cyndra turned and walked toward the senior parking lot. “Bring your sister,” she called. “We’ll show her the fish.”

Like hell.

I wanted to watch her walk away, wanted to watch the way her hair and her hips slung from side to side. I even wanted to watch her give Michael his kiss and his hug and get into his car.

I turned and finished crossing the field.

At the building supply store, Jonesy set me to lugging bags of cement mix onto a flatbed truck. After that I got a load of cinder blocks and Sheetrock. After an hour or two, my arms were like noodles, and my hair was wet with sweat. Jonesy paid me in cash and gave me two coupons for the fast-food chain nearest home.

“What the hell, it’s Friday,” he said. “Live large.”

What can you say when an overweight, middle-aged man with a smoker’s cough tells you to live large?

On the way home, I traded in the coupons and some money for two chicken combos and then weaved through Lincoln Green’s double-crap rainbows to our unit in the middle.

Janie was already in our room. She made a mock crowd-goes-wild cheer when she saw the bag from the fast-food joint.

“And my contribution,” she said, presenting a DVD with a little flourish. It was some recent zombie movie, bootlegged. I couldn’t give a damn about zombie movies.

“Wow, is that a new release?” I asked.

Janie smiled and wobbled her head a little, like the goose that laid the golden egg. “Boy, that crap’s still in the damn theater.” She drew her head back a little on her shoulders, showing off the statement.

It was hard not to smile at her. “Don’t cuss.”

She swatted my arm.

We got the laptop out of the hidey-hole and set it up on my bed. Janie says a friend gave the laptop to her when the friend got a new one. I act like I believe this story. Sometimes you’ve got to take what you can get.

We sat on the floor and ate. Before long the zombie apocalypse had struck, and the citizens were fighting for survival. Janie cuddled closer, although I don’t know if she was aware that she was doing it.

“Eww,” she whispered. “Gross!” She lifted a lock of hair to her mouth and began chewing.

I tried to feel scared of the zombies and even remotely interested in the fate of the humans. All I could think was,
How cool would that be? How cool would it be to be able to take over a warehouse store and live there? How cool would it be to shoot or decapitate the thing that was trying to eat you whole?

I fell asleep before the final showdown.

I woke to Janie shaking me. The credits to an animated princess movie were playing. Janie loves this movie, where the princess falls in love with the monster and frees him from a curse. I will never understand girls.

“Bedtime, huh?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

“Yeah.” Janie closed the laptop and gave me a hug. “Thanks.”

I hugged her back, inhaling the smell of oranges that wafted up from her hair.

Downstairs there was a crash, raucous laughter, and the sound of furniture being dragged across the floor.

“For what?” I asked when the hug was over.

“Two hundred dollars. I know it wasn’t easy.”

I told her about the party and mall trip tomorrow.

Janie nodded, understanding without needing me to spell it out. “I’ll spend the night at Clay’s.”

Clay’s mom was used to us showing up. Clay told her it was the pressure valve we needed, downplaying how bad it really was. Telling his mom not to call anyone about it because Janie and I didn’t want to be separated in foster care.

“What about you?” she asked.

“I’ll be partying all night.”

Janie nodded like it was the truth. “Just as long as you don’t come home until morning.”

“I know the drill.”

Janie stood and picked up the laptop. “Night.” Her mattress springs groaned as she lay down.

I pushed my bed against the closed door of our room. As the night went by, the noises downstairs grew louder. The front door slammed repeatedly. Men shouted at each other. A woman, crying and yelling. It got quieter, except for the television’s gunfire and action music. Every now and then, I could hear Janie’s light, whiffling snore from the other side of the partition. I imagined decapitating monsters and waited for daylight.