We Are Pirates: A Novel (18 page)

The door opened. Gwen did not look. Two figures passed in front of her narrowed, hooded view: a guy and a girl with their backs to Gwen and their hands wrapped around each other.

“Hello?” the guy said.

Nobody answered, and after a pause the guy took his hands off the girl and cupped them to his mouth. He took a deep breath and then, earsplittingly loud, did a very good imitation of a monkey. “
Eep! Eep! Eepeepeep eep
!
”

The girl laughed and Gwen froze and lowered her head.

“Oh, no,” groaned an invisible voice. “Monkeys.”

Everyone—not Gwen—laughed. The guy with bloodshot eyes returned and stretched his hand across the counter to greet the other guy in a knocking, clasping ritual believed at the time to be favored by black people. The guy introduced the girl, and the three of them laughed about a couple of things while Gwen’s teeth ached. They asked what time the bloodshot guy was closing up the place, and Gwen moved her hands below the table, knowing they would turn to stare at her. Inside the pocket of her sweatshirt was one of the two knives she had taken from her parents’ kitchen, the only two good ones, and it had been further sharpened with a stone she and Amber had found on the beach. The whole crew was in agreement, that in case of danger it was better to leave blood than wish it had been spilt. Should she, Gwen Needle, wait until they looked at her or knife them all now? Her brain rattled and jittered with the question, and her shivery hand reached into her pants pockets and pulled out one coin, a penny. She held it over the table. When the penny drops I will make my decision, when the penny drops I will make my decision . . . drop.

Heads.

But it was too late. Without a glance at her, they just laughed again, at something Gwen hadn’t heard, and then the guy, who was some asshole, kissed the girl, who was Naomi Wise, right on the sunglasses, and they went back out into the dark. Gwen stood up, pushed her chair back.

“You scared me,” said the bloodshot guy. “I forgot about you.”

“Keep it that way,” Gwen said, and she left. Her feet hurt a little in her new boots. Amber had bought them for her with the Stepmonster’s credit card, a crime that would not surface until the bill came at the end of the month—June—and they were long gone. They were perfect, the zippers smooth as an expensive automobile, the leather crackly like a man snapping a whip. Or, a woman.

Outside, the block was empty all the way to the park. The bag sloshed against her knee. The dark sky lasted all the way down, stopping at the tips of stretched trees and a cement overpass allowing pedestrians to move over the traffic. Gwen could only see a few figures in the park, two men stepping around a whisked-out shrub and a woman, her head swiveling every which way for trouble, walking a spiky and unidentifiable dog. Gwen reached the bad grass. The men kept walking and the woman got nervous.

“Come on, Barky,” she said, and Gwen realized she would never see Toby II again. Another dead dog. It said it on the door of the Fillmore: ALL EXITS ARE FINAL
.
The park was empty now, just stilled swing sets and their scrawny shadows. The taxi was coming soon, but there was only so long she could wait before arousing suspicion.
And
the bag was heavy. It was like a football game she’d watched with her dad, waiting for it to end so that he might sigh and go in and apologize to Marina for throwing a bowl at her. Thirty-seven seconds left, but they kept stopping the clock.

At the edge, one of the scrawny shadows moved smoothly toward her. “You’re not Naomi,” he said. “It’s okay. I knew.”

Gwen stared at him.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Gwen felt an anger that had no name, it was so gigantic and without border.

“I knew,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“
You
,” Gwen managed to snarl, “did
not know.
” It was Cody Glasserman. The name and number of everything changed. The younger brother, skinny in a hooded sweatshirt and black jeans, with shoes, new and clean, the brightest thing in the park. And his nervous eyes, his mouth trying not to smile.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I thought it would be you.”

Gwen was going to kill him if he did not stop talking. She could not say anything herself.

“It’s okay.”

“How—? Did—?”

“They broke up last week,” Cody said. “Naomi and my brother. She gave him back his picture. He says he dumped her, but . . .” He shook his head. “I know you guys aren’t friends anymore, or something. You used to be together at swimming. So I thought it was revenge.”

Gwen just looked at him. The bag was going
slosh, slosh, slosh
, so she must have been trembling.

“Or something, a joke on her, to—to fuck her up.”

The curse made her blink finally. “It’s not revenge,” she said.

“Like, now she’s dating the younger brother.”

“No.”

“I hate her,” he said. “Everyone hates Naomi.” He took paper from his pockets, and Gwen saw that the police wouldn’t find the note because it was right goddamn there.

“Why do you have that?”

Cody frowned. “It was addressed to me. It had my name on it.”

He tilted the envelope so she could see, and Gwen tried furiously to stalk away but got only one step. There was nothing else but Cody Glasserman standing in front of her, hysterically wrong. He looked cold. It was the only thing, Cody Glasserman lured here, never a possibility of anything else. It was already going to be Cody Glasserman when she had her last cup of coffee, when she got on the bus.
today
on her hand. Every answer was Cody Glasserman now, instead of what she had asked for. The younger brother, fuck fuck fuck.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay. I—I really like you, Gwen. And Tortuga’s awesome. I know it’s not what you thought, but we could—”

“We’re not fucking going to a Tortuga show,” she spat.

But Cody was holding the note that said so. Gwen put the bag down and felt the tears sparking at her eyes. It was wrong, but it was still happening. She remembered, from nowhere, that her father liked him.

“Please,” he said. “I—I’ve always liked you.”

She was just remembering the knife when the taxi pulled up at the corner, a yellow van, just as Amber had ordered. Gwen could see Errol and Manny in the back, behind the sliding door but looking out at her, and Amber was already getting out of the passenger side, saying something to the driver and walking quickly toward them.

“What—who are they?” Cody had followed her gaze.

Gwen picked the bag back up. No, the knife, then she couldn’t—

But Amber was already here. “
And
?
” she said.

“It’s not,” Gwen said, and pointed at him. But everything was crumpled and tripping in her head. It couldn’t be, could it, that Amber had always thought something this wrong?

“You haven’t told him, have you?” Amber said.

“What is this?” Cody had already backed up a step. “You’re from, I know you.”

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Amber said. “You’re coming with us, Cody.”

“It was
Nathan
,” Gwen said.

Amber narrowed her eyes. “Are you Nathan?” she asked him.

“
Cody
,” Cody said. “Where are we going?”

“
No
,” Gwen said.

“Errol will explain it,” Amber said. “He’s in rare form.” Amber put a dark-nailed hand on Cody’s back and pushed him in the direction of the van. The window was already rolling down and Errol leaned out with a wide, gray smile.

Cody turned back to Gwen in confusion. “Who are they?”

Perfectly, this was a question that had been put in chapter three of
Seaward Sinister
, which Errol knew practically by heart. “We are
pirates
!” he crowed. “We are men, men and women, without a country. We are outlaws in our lives and outcasts in our families. We are desperate, and so we seek a desperate fortune. We band ourselves together now to practice the trade of piracy on the high seas.”

“For real?” Cody asked.

“Most certainly yes,” Errol said. Amber must have given him coffee, or maybe he was better in the nighttime, or simply with something to do. He was more like a captain than he’d ever been. Gwen stepped closer to the proceedings, walking so near Amber they kept brushing arms.

“This isn’t him,” Gwen said.

“Why not?” Errol asked. “There’s always room for honorable people and those who are not welcome elsewhere. My first mate thought you’d be of suitable employ.”

“We’re not taking him,” Gwen said. “He’s a kid! We’re not cradle robbers.”

Cody stepped closer to her and, for the first time, touched Gwen, on the shoulder. Gwen could see Errol’s foggy smile. “Nuh-uh,” he said. “Everybody says that because of how I’m short. But Gwen, we have the exact same birthday.”

She would not be moved until later that he would know such a thing. Now she was just racing to go, to maroon this first mistake before it became an omen. Cody took the bag from her, wincing a little at the weight.

“What’s in here?” he asked, and moved the blanket. Even the cabdriver looked down to see.

“Are you—burning something down?”

“Not unless absolutely necessary,” Errol said, his eyes looking off at chapter four. “There are rules. You must pledge to be together in a life-and-death bind. Breakfast will be had in silence. All valuables which may come into our possession shall be held together in a common fund used first to fit, rig and provision the ship, and then to recompense any who have lost a limb in armed combat. No cellular phones.”

“What?” Manny said.

“They can use them to trace us,” Amber said.

“What the hell is all this?” the cabdriver said.

“Close your ears and leave the meter running,” Amber said, and touched her belt so Gwen would see the knife there. “We are paying you twice, once for transport and once again for your silence.”

“Cocktail hour will be strictly observed,” Errol kept going. “Everyone will stand, will stand, will stand a watch at night. Entertainment,” and here he looked at his shoe for a few blank seconds, “will largely be confined to storytelling. Keep orderly storerooms. All of us, is the word, will know every knot.”

“Do we have to wear special things?” Cody said. “I had to wear tights once for a school play.”

“There is no dress code, but there are restrictions on language. You may say
God.
You may say
Christ
. You may say
Goddamn
or
Christ on a stick
.
Shit, fuck, bullshit, motherfucking cock, cunt, asshole
. But you may not take to task a member of anyone’s family, as we are all family now, and the people who raised us are left on land to rot away.”

“I’ll do it,” Cody said.

“You will
not
do it,” Gwen said. “This is wrong.”

“It sounds fun,” Cody said.

“Those who would go to the sea for pleasure,” Errol said sternly, beginning a slogan Gwen remembered from
Mutiny!
, “would go to hell for pastime.”

“And I’m tired of them,” Cody said.

“Who?” Amber asked.

“Everybody,” Cody said.

“Everybody,” said the parrot, its cage in the back someplace, but Cody nodded like it was a person who’d agreed with him.

“Every-stupid-body,” he said. “I’m—I guess I was happy. Or I thought so, for a long time, but lately, with my
brother
. My
dad.
My
mom.
It’s all of them hemming me in, you know? Watching and
talking
and telling me all of the things to do.”

To Gwen it was like the handle on the door of the drugstore. Push or pull, in or out. “Pop the trunk,” she said finally.

“Whatever you say,” the cabdriver said. The trunk hinged open, and Cody knew without being told to stow Gwen’s bag. Everyone crowded into the taxi.

“If you hadn’t let me,” Cody said, when they were inside, “I would have told.”

“None of that,” Errol growled. “We are together now and have each other’s backs. Understood?”

He nudged Gwen, who swallowed and then turned to look at him. It wasn’t that they looked alike, but something was alike about them. They had each other’s backs. She steeled herself. “Yes,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Yes
what
?”

“Yes
what
?” said the parrot, and Gwen grinned fierce at her whole crew.

“Yes,
Captain
,” she said, and felt herself breathe. Cody breathed beside her, and Manny and their captain, while Amber leaned over in front to give the driver further instructions. It was true. They were together now. Cody Glasserman had been shanghaied—not quite rescued, but neither could it be said, as it
was
said, over and over for years, that he was kidnapped, brutally snatched from a playground. Those reading this history can at least have the satisfaction that such a horrible piece of villainy has not been committed. They were pirates, a band of them. The taxi began to move and they all went forward with their eyes open.