Fireball (37 page)

‘I don't believe in that stuff, Karen.'

‘Well, pretend that you do. What would you be?'

‘I don't know.' I ran a finger around the rim of my cup. ‘A weed.'

‘A weed? Why do you want to be a weed?'

‘You don't have to worry about anything, or even think.'

Karen laughed. ‘I don't know if you can be a plant.'

‘You said you can come back as anything.'

‘Well, I'd have to check with my spirit guide.'

‘Don't bother.' I swallowed a big mouthful of my hot chocolate. Man, did it taste awful. ‘If I can't come back as a weed I don't want to come back at all. I'd rather die and just be completely dead. It would be dark and quiet and cool and nobody would bother me.'

‘That's so negative.' She tore off a big chunk of styrofoam and began breaking it into smaller and smaller pieces, looking at them instead of me. ‘You sound just like Chris. He was always making fun of me for believing in this stuff.'

I didn't say anything for a bit. I was sick of talking about reincarnation. I never thought I'd find Karen boring but right then sitting with her just wasn't the same. She didn't smell the same or look the same or have the same effect on me. She wasn't the same girl.

‘That's because it's bullshit, Karen.'

I didn't say it nastily. I just said it. I couldn't be bothered to lie any more.

‘No, it's not.'

‘It's a bunch of crap people made up so they'd feel better about dying.'

‘Julian doesn't think so,' she said, getting all defensive. ‘He believes in it.'

I laughed. ‘Jules would believe anything to get you naked again.'

We stared at each other. She wasn't sure whether I was insulting her or Julian. Neither was I, for that matter. I was just in a shitty mood from her dyeing her hair and wanting to be a bird and from this watery hot chocolate I was drinking. But in that moment a barrier dropped between us. It felt like I was talking to her through a glass partition – just like the ones they have in jail for speaking with prisoners.

There was only one thing I needed to know.

‘Have you seen Jules lately?'

‘I saw him at the funeral.' She stared at her hands, as if she were holding something invisible in them. A heart, maybe. In a quiet voice she added, ‘And we've been hanging out a bit since then. He's really upset over the whole thing, too.'

She didn't have to tell me any more than that. I could imagine Jules at the funeral, and her crying on his shoulder. Probably he'd been crying, too. He was there for her, all right. He was there with his poems and his rides and his Frank Sinatra. He'd been waiting in the wings and now that the main event was over he had his chance to shine. The thought of them together, holding hands at the funeral, was enough to make me sick. I honestly thought I was going to puke hot chocolate all over the place: all over the table, all over the café, all over Karen. I crumpled up my cup in my fist. It cracked and squeaked in the way styrofoam does. Then I placed it in the centre of the table, as if it were a valuable piece of art.

I didn't say anything else. I just stood up and walked out. It would have been rad, except I forgot my jacket. I had to wait across the street until Karen left before I could go back and get it. I hid in some bushes. It was still pouring, which meant I got absolutely soaked. Luckily Karen didn't see me. At least, I hope she didn't.

64

Me and Julian both switched schools.

I started commuting across town, because I got so sick of the questions everybody kept asking me. I didn't really have friends at Seycove, anyways. My dad thought changing schools would give me a fresh start but within a week all the kids had found out that I was Chris's friend. Now most of them are too terrified to talk to me, and those that do only want to know about Chris. This one dickhead even asked me if Chris had ever stabbed anybody. No joke. That pissed me off so much I wanted to stab him. The only thing Chris ever stabbed was that racoon, to put it out of its misery. But basically, one of the reasons I left my old school was to get away from all the bullshit. That totally backfired. The other reason I left was to avoid seeing Julian. There wasn't much point in that, either, because he changed schools last fall, too. At first, I thought it was for the same reason I had.

That was before I started seeing him around.

Sometimes I see him with Karen, and when he's not with her he's with his new friends. They drive their cars – these super pricey cars with huge tyres – down to Cates beach and park them in a perfectly straight row, like at an auto show. One of them will crank up his stereo until the windows rattle and the frame starts shuddering. Then they just sit there, peering at the world through Oakley sunglasses. I don't know what they talk about. Nothing, probably. Every so often, especially if there's girls around, they'll get out their frisbees. They've got dozens and dozens of frisbees, in all sizes and colours. This one guy even has a trick frisbee for making fingertip catches. I know all this because once in a while I walk down to Cates and sit in the shade where we used to sit. I don't smoke any pot, though. I hardly ever smoke pot these days. It makes me miss him too much. Also, whenever I'm stoned I start crying and wishing I was dead. It's pretty fucked.

But basically, Julian is usually there, playing frisbee and showing off. I spent a whole afternoon watching him. I wanted to know if he was happy. He looked happy. He looks just like the rest of them, now. He's got the fake muscles and the fake tan and, with Karen, he's even got the fake blonde girlfriend.

At one point, their frisbee landed beside me.

‘Hey man,' a mannequin said. ‘Toss it here, will you?'

‘Get it yourself.'

I was in a shitty mood. Come to think of it, I'm almost always in a shitty mood these days. The mannequin came trotting over, flexing every single muscle in his entire body.

‘What's your problem, pal?'

‘I don't play frisbee.'

‘You just watch it, huh? Maybe you're a fag who likes watching guys.'

‘That's right. I'm a fag and I'm going to fuck you in the ass.'

Whatever the guy expected me to say, it wasn't that. A couple of his friends came over. One of them was Tim Williams – that guy Chris had almost killed at the Avalon. I saw him and he saw me at the same time. He had this weird grin on his face, and I figured he was ready to pay me back for that night. Jules came, too, hanging a little towards the rear.

‘Get this guy,' the first mannequin said. ‘He says he's going to fuck me in the ass.'

I stood up. ‘First I'll kick your ass, then I'll fuck it.'

I went over to him and stared him down, as crazy as I could, like I wanted to burn a hole through his head with my eyes. I probably would have had to fight him, but Jules stopped it. He stepped between us and pushed the mannequin back.

‘Let it go, Steve. I know this guy.'

Tim came forward, too. ‘Yeah, man. You don't want to mess with him.'

His voice didn't sound right, almost like he was talking through gritted teeth. He still had that creepy smile on his face, too. It took me a second to realise his jaw was wired shut from when Chris had broken it. Steve looked from him to Julian and back to me. He tried to act tough but you could tell he didn't want to scrap.

‘Yeah, well, he should watch his mouth.'

I didn't even bother to answer. Steve and Tim and the rest of the mannequin mob faded away, leaving me and Jules standing alone. We'd seen each other around since the summer, but we'd always managed to brush past without saying much. Now I felt kind of obliged to talk to him, and I could tell he felt the same way.

I asked, ‘Why is that guy's jaw still screwed up, anyways?'

‘It healed wrong, so they had to re-break it and set it again.'

‘Oh. Fuck.'

We stood there. Neither of us knew what the hell to say. The weirdest part was that I noticed Jules didn't have a birthmark on his chest any more. I guess he'd gotten it removed.

He asked, ‘So those bastards arrested you, huh?'

‘Just for questioning. The charges are being stayed or something.'

‘Oh. That's cool.' He scuffed the ground with his foot. ‘How's your new school?'

‘It's shit. Everybody's an idiot. What about Collingwood?'

Jules had managed to get into that private school in West Van. I'd heard he was even playing on their tennis team. It must have been like a dream come true.

‘Oh, you know. Same old thing.'

‘Yeah.'

‘Anyways, man. I'll see you.'

He trotted back to join the game, clapping his hands to call for the frisbee. Seeing that completely depressed me. He had all these new friends, a new school, a whole new life. I mean, it's not like I wanted to hang out with them or anything, but just having somebody to talk to would have been nice. The problem is, since Chris died I haven't met a single person worth talking to. I'm completely alone: just me, myself, and and my memories.

I guess that's why I wanted to get them all down.

65

The last film we ever made – the very last – was about these bank robbers. We used the local bank on the Parkway. They wouldn't let us take fake weapons inside, so instead we filmed the three of us walking towards the doors, holding our guns at waist level. Then we faded to black and added sound effects that make it seem like we're really robbing the place.

It's pretty awesome, actually.

‘Get on the floor! We're robbing this joint!'

‘Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt.'

We also put in a bunch of screaming and shouting. You know – so it sounds like the customers and tellers are totally freaking out. That's the very start of the film. Next the credits come up, and it cuts to Jules driving our getaway car. It wasn't just the last film we shot – it was also the best. We didn't worry about having a plot or anything stupid like that. Since we only had three characters, we decided the entire film would be us sitting around in our hideout, talking about how great it is to be criminals and how shitty the world is.

‘What do you think it's all about, Bahn?'

Bahn was Chris's character. Bahn Scott.

‘You know, man. Just hugging and thugging.'

‘Hugging and thugging, eh?'

‘Hugging your friends and thugging your enemies.'

I've watched that film about a hundred times. I watch all the old movies we made but I watch that one most of all. Chris wasn't the greatest actor ever. None of us were. In that film, though, he's a natural. Somehow he gets completely into character. We bought a twixer of Wiser's and a pack of Old Port cigars and sat around my basement drinking our faces off. Then we set up the camera and started recording. After the intro, it opens on a wide shot of us sitting at the table, looking awesome. We're wearing these super classy suits, which are way too big for us because we borrowed them from my dad. The table is covered in stacks of Monopoly money. Julian is counting it into little bundles while Chris puffs on a cigar and plays with his gun. For some reason we decided to give my character this sweet comb-over hairstyle. You know – so that all my hair is plastered to one side of my head.

‘How you gonna spend your cut, Bahn?'

‘I'm gonna buy me a hut down in Mexico. Just me and a little señorita. Someplace where they got tequila on tap and the heat won't ever find me.'

There was no script, but he kept coming up with bizarre lines like that, as if he really had been a criminal all his life. At one point, my character gets up and goes to the toilet. That was an excuse to get me off-screen so I could change the angle. There's a cut – a pretty awkward cut – and you can hear me say ‘action' to start the next bit of the scene. This time the shot is of Chris and Jules facing each other over the table. The frame is tighter, so you only see their upper bodies. Chris pours them both a shot and they down it. Julian gasps, grimaces, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Totally dramatic.

Then he says, ‘Johnny Bananas told me the heat knows we're holed up here.'

Julian's pretty good in this film, too. We're all good in it. It was our masterpiece.

‘Bring it on, man.' Chris holds up his gun – one of the cap guns we bought at the dollar store – and sort of brandishes it. ‘We got enough ammo to fight them off for weeks.'

‘But shouldn't we get out of here while we can?'

‘You go ahead. I been fighting my whole life. I ain't gonna start running, now.'

At that point, it cuts to the wide shot again and I come back into the frame. We planned this next bit out. There's a big argument. Julian wants to grab the money and run, but Chris thinks we should stay and shoot it out with the cops. Finally, Jules takes his share of the loot and leaves with no hard feelings. We had to get somebody off-screen because we needed the police to arrive. In the final shot, me and Chris are sitting side by side facing the door. We've each got a gun in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.