White Lies (16 page)

“Zach—” she said, not knowing what else to say.

Suddenly he stepped toward her, closing the space between them in a single stride. The shadows fled from his face, and she could see his eyes clearly. They were glassy, the way they'd been a week ago in her car. For a moment she thought he might hit her. Although the intensity that radiated off him frightened her, it was not the white terror she'd felt when she was trapped alone on the highway with him. Then, she hadn't known him, and there hadn't been anyone to rescue her if things turned bad. Here, if he tried something, she might get a bruise, maybe even a black eye or a bleeding lip, but all she had to do was yell. Someone would hear.

“Answer me,” he hissed. “If you weren't fucking that Indian, would you go out with me?”

“Zach, you're far too young—”

Before she could finish, however, he shoved past her. He yanked open the front door and disappeared inside, swallowed by the buzz of many conversations and the blare of music. Katrina rolled her eyes, then started after him. It seemed he was heading toward the laundry, where everyone had stored their jackets and bags.

She reached out and touched his shoulder. “Zach, wait—”

He spun, rolling his shoulder as if her fingers were acid. “Don't touch me,” he growled.

She held up her hands defensively and tried to think of the best way to get him to calm down. She became aware that everyone had stopped talking and were gawking at the two of them. Someone turned down the stereo. A hush fell over the room. It was as if Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch Gang had just sauntered in through the batwing doors of some old Western saloon. Zach didn't seem to care. He continued to glower at her with unchecked rage.

“Come outside,” she said softly, hoping this wasn't going to turn into an even bigger scene yet knowing it was. “We'll talk out there.”

“About what? About
Jack
? Where is he?” He looked around the room.

Jack appeared, cool and collected. He had a faint smile on his face, as if he was amused by the happenings. He glanced at Katrina, tipping her an imperceptible nod that seemed to say, “I'll take care of this.” He stopped in front of Zach. “I think you and I should go outside, friend.”

Zach swung the beer bottle in his hand. Foaming ale sprayed in an arc, splashing those standing closest to him. A woman shrieked. Jack didn't flinch. He brought his right hand up with amazing speed and caught Zach's wrist about a foot from his face. He twisted the wrist sharply. Zach grunted and dropped the bottle, which smashed on the floor. He thrust his arm under Zach's armpit and grabbed a fistful of his shaggy hair. “Let's go, pal,” he said.

“Let go of me!” Zach shouted. “Get your motherfucking Indian hands off me!”

“Jack,” Katrina said urgently. “Be gentle. Please.”

But Jack was already shoving Zach roughly forward, toward the front door, like a bouncer escorting a drunk from the club. Zach continued to spew off more curses, but he couldn't free himself. Both men disappeared outside. The door slapped the frame with a loud, flat crack. Silence hung in the air until someone snickered. Katrina saw it was Graham.

“That kid is so friggin' messed up it ain't funny,” he said.

“No, it's
not
funny, Graham,” Katrina told him, glaring at him until he wiped the smile off his face and looked suitably ashamed. She went toward the door, people parting before her. As soon as she stepped outside, she heard the voices behind her raise as one in a swell of excited babble. The music was turned up again.

Jack was standing down at the bottom of the porch steps, by himself. Past him Katrina could make out the silhouette of Zach as he stumbled in the direction of the school bus. She started to follow, but Jack gently restrained her.

“Leave him,” he said.

“I need to talk to him.”

“He needs to be alone. Sober up a little. What was that about anyway?”

She shook her head. “It seems he's a little jealous of you.”

“Jealous? You mean he
likes
you? You made him out to be your archenemy.”

“I guess it was a little more complicated than I thought.”

“Well, that adds a twist to things, doesn't it?”

“I really think I should go talk to him.”

“Later,” Jack said decisively, and took her hand. “Now come back inside. You're missing your own party.”

Crystal Burton was stretched out on an adjustable sling chair down at the dock where the party had migrated after the scene with Jack and that Zach fellow inside. A couple of people were fishing off the end of the dock, but everyone else was sitting cross-legged in a circle, playing loud drinking games with a deck of cards. Apparently there was an “Asshole” and a “President,” but that was the extent to which she was paying attention. One woman had become so obnoxiously drunk she was poison to listen to. She kept cackling like a witch at everything, only it seemed she was the only person who thought what she was hearing was funny. Across the lake pinpricks of light floated in the darkness—the lights from what Crystal assumed were other cabins, maybe a campground or two. To the west, a rocky point prickling with trees blocked her view, but along the eastern shore she could make out the shadowy form of another dock jutting out over the water. She could also see the outline of the corresponding cabin. Given the noise everyone was making, she hoped it was unoccupied.

She sipped her Seagram's Cooler and thought about what had happened earlier. She felt bad for Zach. After Jack had taken him outside, and Katrina had followed, everyone had erupted in conversation, some chastising Zach, most mocking and pitying him, saying he was a drunk and a joke and so on. Crystal had listened to it all with a grim look on her face. She knew what it was like to not fit in, to be the outsider.

Katrina thought her off-and-on isolation was self-imposed, a result of psychological scarring from their parents' death, a fear of making close friends because they might just disappear one day, or
some Jungian mumbo jumbo like that. Perhaps it was true. All Crystal knew for sure was she'd never been good at making friends. She was not skinny enough for others to want to hang around her. Not confident enough to command attention. Not witty enough to be funny. Not chatty enough to be a mingler. That had been her high school story, and it seemed it was going to be her university one too, given she'd already failed to join any of the quickly forming cliques. It was pretty damn depressing. Everybody had friends. She didn't even have unpopular friends. Well, maybe Mary Wenders. They'd known each other since they were twelve, but Mary was in Texas now, attending college there.

Crystal sighed, sipped her drink, and saw a small flash of light on the neighboring dock. She squinted. Yes, a glowing red dot. The tip of a cigarette? Who could it be? The neighbors? Not likely. There were no lights on in the adjacent cabin, no glow lamps leading down to the dock. Someone from the party? But why would they go way over there—?

Zach, she realized. Probably counting down the minutes until it was time to head home.

Crystal returned to the cabin to grab another cooler. Jack and Kat were inside on the sofa, beneath the stuffed deer head. Jack had an arm around her shoulders while Kat had her knees pulled up to her chest.

“Hey guys,” Crystal said. “How come you're not down at the dock?”

Jack said, “I have all the company I need right here.”

Kat slapped him playfully. Crystal smiled. It was good to see her sister happy again after everything she'd been through with Shawn.

“What are you doing up here?” Kat asked.

“Just getting another drink. Want anything?”

She declined as Jack raised a bottle of white wine that had been sitting on the floor by their feet and refilled both their glasses. Crystal went to the ice box in the corner and took the last cooler from the four-pack she'd brought. She also snatched one of the
numerous beers that were floating in the cold water. She crossed the living room to the front door.

“Since when do you drink beer?” Kat asked.

“I'm out of coolers,” Crystal replied simply, then she was outside. She didn't return to the sling chair and the others but made her way east, toward where the school bus was parked. The night thickened around her as she left the light from the porch. She entered a copse of trees that blocked out most of the sky, so it was nearly completely black. She slowed but continued on. She assumed if she went far enough along the road, staying parallel to the lake, she would come to the neighboring dock. It turned out she was right. Fifty yards on the trees thinned. She could once again see the flat expanse of the lake and the neighbor's dock. This close she could make out the person she'd spotted earlier. She'd been right. It was Zach.

She followed a worn path down a rocky slope to the dock. Twigs snapped under her footfalls and small pebbles rolled into the water. She definitely wouldn't have made the cut at assassin school.

Zach heard her approach—he'd have to be deaf not to—and turned around. “Who's there?” he asked.

“My name's Crystal. Hi.” She stopped next to him.

“Is this your place? I didn't think anyone was home—”

She shook her head. “No, I'm Katrina's sister. I came with her earlier.”

Even in the poor light, she could see the surprise on his face. “You're her sister?”

“Heavier, I know. But a DNA test will prove it.”

“No, it's not that. I just didn't realize—” His voice hardened. “Did she send you here to talk to me?”

“No,” Crystal said quickly. “I was on the other dock and saw you light a cigarette.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” she said. “I just wanted to talk.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. Do I need a reason?” She held forth the beer she'd taken from the fridge. “Want it?”

He hesitated, but accepted. There was a crack-sigh as he twisted off the cap.

“Sit down,” he said. “You're making me nervous just standing there like that.” She sat and he studied her. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“That's a big age difference between you and your sister.”

“Thirteen years, two months, fourteen days.”

He took out a pack of Marlboros and offered her one.

“I don't smoke,” she said.

“Me either. Quit last year. Found these on the bus. Thought what the hell.” He took one out and lit it up. “I'm surprised your sister didn't warn you to stay away from me.”

“Actually, she did.”

He stared at her, long and hard. Then he shook his head. He didn't say anything more. Crystal was worried she'd put her foot in her mouth, so she said without thinking, “I heard you think we're all going to turn into cyborgs.”

Zach's mouth dropped open. The cigarette almost fell out. “Are you kidding me?”

“What? No. I … I just overheard someone say that.”

“Did they send you over here? Is this a goddamn joke?”

“What? No. Seriously. I'm so sorry.”
Why was he so angry
? “Someone said something. I thought it sounded cool. I like that kind of stuff. Sci-fi, you know?” She almost jumped to her feet, to run away, but then Zach chuckled to himself. The chuckle became genuine laughter. He took a drag from the cigarette and laughed some more. She felt a bit more relaxed.

“I'm sorry,” she apologized again. “I didn't know it was a sensitive subject.”

“Whatever.” He tossed the smoke into the lake. “I believe you.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

He gave her a look that seemed to be assessing whether she was being genuine or not. Apparently he thought she was because he said, “You really want to know?”

“Like I said. I like that stuff.”

So Zach told her his theory of evolution—or someone's theory, at any rate. It was pretty out there. It was also pretty cool. They talked a little bit about it, then got onto movies, then books, then movies again. It turned out they had a lot in common. And Zach wasn't what she'd imagined at all. He was funny and intelligent and, when you got past the walls he threw up, sweet even. She couldn't understand why nobody liked him.

“How's the party over there?” Zach asked, changing gears.

“Boring. I felt weird hanging out with teachers—I mean, I know you're one. But you're different.”

Voices and laughter continued to float across the water, loud and brash. Someone had brought a portable stereo, and Eminem started rapping about what it was like to be white trash.

“Different?” he said. “What do you mean?”

“To begin with, you're not a dinosaur.”

“Youngest teacher at the school. So people keep reminding me.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Yeah?” she said, knowing she was preparing herself to do something, though she wasn't sure what. “That's good. It's not too old.”

“Too old for what?”

Crystal leaned toward Zach, thrilled and amazed—and terrified—by her sudden confidence. Her lips touched his. The thrill and amazement remained. The terrified part went up in smoke. She kissed him lightly, hesitated briefly, then kissed him harder. This was her first real kiss, and an explosion of relief rocked her as she realized she'd crossed the barrier. She was
doing
it. What had the big deal always been? Why had she always thought everything would have to be perfect? Perfect guy, perfect place, perfect evening? She was sitting on a dock with someone she'd just met, someone whom everyone else thought was a weirdo, but she was absolutely content.

Zach's hand brushed through her hair. It felt good. His hand
slipped down her cheek, down her neck, and cupped her left breast. That felt even better.

In the distance she heard the engine of an approaching car.