Crank - 01 (13 page)

He dropped me off around the corner from my house,

gave me a stick of gum and a big, wet good-bye kiss.

It might have been the perfect day except just

as I closed the door, Scott happened to drive by.

I learned a valuable lesson about lie construction

and Mom gave me plenty of time to consider

how to do it better.

GUFN Again

I

sat on my bed, absentmindedly

tracing the lopsided

heart-shaped scar,

didn’t

read, didn’t write. All I did

was think about my personal

evolution. Where did I

belong

with my relative innocence

gone? Where did I fit?

I felt like I had fallen in

to

a critical state of limbo.

With my old friends mired

in status quo, how could I explain

my

summer enlightenment? My new

crowd—if three guys and Guinivere

qualified—was not what my

mom

(or I) expected. I wondered if I should

confess that her sweet, intelligent

little Kristina did not exist

anymore.

Leigh Headed Back to School

Mom drove her to the airport.

I waited until they hustled off, late,

then asked to stay home, claiming, “Cramps.”

Mom gave me a look, but I could prove

the cramps were real. Leigh gave me a big,

tense hug, made me promise to behave myself.

The minute the car turned the corner,

I was on the telephone, completely

misbehaving.              “Come over, Chase.”              
Now?

             “Right now.”                           
Where’s your mom?

             “Just hurry.”

Need arose like an angry red dawn.

I paced until the dogs warned

a stranger had just arrived.

              
How much time

              
do we have?

            “Not enough.”                        
What do you

                                              
want?

            “Everything.”                          
Will I get you in

                                              
trouble?

            “Probably.”

I didn’t care. I needed to feel

good. We snorted, we smoked.

I asked for,               “More.”                                
Don’t think you

                         
should.

            “Please!”                               
Take it easy,

                         
Kristina.

            “Can’t.”                                
Your mom will be

                         
home soon.

            “I know.

             That’s why I

             can’t.”

Chase Left Me with Goodies

He didn’t want to, told me

no way,

but Bree, mistress of persuasion,

knew a trick or two

to get her way.

Kristina swore to keep her in

check and she tried, but

no way

to slow the electric impulse flow,

our brain began to plot. How

to get away

from the confines of GUFN?

Sweet-talk Mom?

Little chance

of that working, a crazy

idea soon hatched

to sneak away

for one spectacular last

summer fling.

Insanity,

that’s what it was, school

starting in only two days.

I Watched the Window

as I picked up the phone and dialed.

Bree cooed a throaty hello.

Hey. I’d just about given up on you.

I could not admit to GUFN. Not

again. I concocted

some lame excuse.

No problem. Want to get together?

I did. Chase or no Chase, I wanted

to see what Brendan was made of.

Bricks, mortar, flesh, bones.

I’ll pick you up. Where and when?

Let’s see. Wait for everyone

to hit the hay, extra half hour,

scale down the wall …

That’s pretty late.

Very late. But I’d definitely be

awake. I coughed up the fact

I was sneaking out.

Okay by me. Just don’t get caught.

No duh. I didn’t plan on

getting caught. Still, what could

they do if I did? Ground me forever?

What sort of party would you like?

Damn, direct. Not even sure

if he indulged, I said I’d bring

the toot if he’d bring the beer.

Sounds like a deal I can live with.

Mom’s SUV turned up

the driveway. Deal sealed,

I said good-bye.

See you tonight, luscious.

Luscious? Plain old white

bread me? I liked it. At least

I thought I did then.

I Hid Out in My Room Until Dinner

            made sure to gag down         every scrap of spinach,

                   so both my mom             and my mouth

would keep quiet.

             I still had a valid cramp          excuse so I packed it

                        in early. Uh-huh.          Sat in the dark, lit

as the starry sky.

               Listened to the sounds         of my normality: familiar

                  footsteps in the hall;         whispers; laughter; baying

at the moonlight.

               And it occurred to me         for one uneasy moment

                     that every move I had      made lately might have

started a landslide.

       What if I couldn’t go back?         What if I died in the crash?

                  Almost immediately,         the monster soothed

                    me, confused me         with a deeper question.

What if the ride was worth it?

               I mean, who wants to         trudge through life, doing

                   everything just right?       Taking no chances means

wasting your dreams.

               How can I explain the               pure chilling rush of

                  waiting to do something      so basically not right?

No fear. No guilt.

                     How can I explain         purposely setting foot on

                        a path so blatantly      treacherous? Was the

fun in the fall?

I Hoped Not

As I softly opened my second-floor window,

peered down at the cement walk below, took a            deep breath.

Fingers clutching the upper sill, toes stretching

for the first-floor trim, I managed to                              touch down

safely. It may have been the safest moment

of the night, in fact. Gulped                                           into darkness,

I let my eyes adjust, felt the breeze lift

goosebumps, listened for signs of household                  disturbance.

No motion. No sudden snitch of a light switch.

No sound but distant coyote song, I                              silenced

my conscience, quieted my screaming nerves

and slipped away unnoticed,                                          for the moment.

No streetlights, no headlights, the world

seemed to sleep beneath my feet as                                I ran,

a mustang over moonlit playa; a cheetah

in high gear. No fear, no brakes,                                    consumed

by some irrational itch to cruise along

shadowy thoroughfares, traveled                                    by demons.

Brendan Was Waiting

in a battered mud-colored Bronco.

Climb in. You look great.

Winded. Hair plastered by my

escape sprint. He was a liar.

A smooth, gorgeous liar.

Wanna go up to Chamberlain Flat?

Secluded five miles up a rutted

dirt track, the played-out mine

was a notorious party spot.

Supposed to be a party up there.

Anything could happen at a party

up there. Good things. Bad things.

Truly evil things.

Ever hear about Evan Malone?

Evan Malone, urban legend—eighteen

and in league with Satan, skinning

goats up at Chamberlain Flat.

My brother went out with his sister.

So he was more than just a parental

fabrication meant to scare kids

away from abandoned mine shafts?

He was real, okay. Kyle met him.

Met him and what? Dressed up like

Halloween, prayed to the devil,

and sacrificed hoofed animals?

Shared a bong. Said he was creepy.

Major understatement, if the dude

was really for real! If pot made you

buddy up with Satan, you could keep it!

But don’t worry. Evan’s long gone.

I reached for a whiff of courage.

Far fuckin’ out! Beer’s in back.

We Bumped up the Road

Doing 40 or so   spilling some

foam of   summer-warmed brew

and busting our   guts, laughing.

I watched Brendan’s   muscular hands

try to shift,   missing gears,

try to steer   around potholes,

not quite evading   most of them.

I studied his face,   mentally tracing

bone structure   a model would kill for,

high cheekbones   perfect white teeth

all sheathed in   Mediterranean-

flavored skin,   iced mocha,

begging to be   sipped, so I did.

I swear, every   guy you kiss is

so different.   Each has a unique

essence, each a   significant style.

Brendan was eau de   lavender, vanilla,

Heineken, Crest   and top-notch speed.

His style was   
“No is not an acceptable

answer.”
He was   Bree, with a penis.

Saturday Night

postmidnight, 30-some hours till

back to the books, the party had

hit high

gear. Pot smoke hung, a skunky

green curtain, but I didn’t want to

fall low

so I indulged in another big snort

before inhaling a couple of tiny tokes,

mostly

to satisfy the incredible urge to pollute

my lungs. I topped that off with a Marlboro,

landing

on just about the perfect plane, just about the

place I wanted to be. Not too speedy, not even close to

straight

falling into the yo-yo rhythm of crank, pot,

beer, tobacco, the sensational motion and emotion,

up and down,

Brendan hanging tight, though I suspected

he might desert me, take off on a flirting binge. And,

oh, god,

the jealous stares of girls I had envied

not long before, girls suddenly, strangely on fire to

know me,

though they had never once in the past returned

my smile. And now, instead of Kristina, they got to

know Bree.

Brendan Stoked the Fire

Let’s take a walk.

I was game to play the game. We wandered

off, found a soft sitting

spot in a patch of crispy brown wild wheat.

Come here, Bree.

As he pulled me onto his lap, I wondered if

I should confess my double identity.

Instead, I let him kiss me. Hard. Hot.

Oh, man. I’m hot

He shed his shirt and the moon revealed

perfect, tanned muscles. He started

to unbutton mine, silencing my protest.

Shhh. Don’t say no.

“I can’t. I mean, I never …” Crank-enhanced

goosebumps lifted as he moved

his hands gently across my skin. “Stop.”

You know you want to.

“I do, Brendan, I really do. But I can’t.

It’s the wrong time of the month.”

I’d decked him. He slapped back.

Then, why did you call?

I let Bree answer. “Not to get laid, incredible

as you are. Is that all you think I’m

about? What if I told you I’m a virgin?”

I’d call you a liar.

Bree wanted to joust, but Kristina thought

about a long walk home and put Bree

back into her box. I looked him in the eye. “No lie.”

Paydirt!

Hair Mussed

clothes cockeyed,

makeup smeared,

I would have looked

fairly suspicious if I

had walked through

the door that night.

But I didn’t have