How to Win at High School (13 page)

He opens a drawer and pulls out a stack of licenses bound
by a rubber band. Hands one to Adam. Adam compares it with his own license.

“The magnetic strip is inoperative,” Bondy says, “so you can't go to the casino or anywhere else they swipe it, but you want to get into a club downtown, you shouldn't have a problem.”

“Fifty bucks,” Adam says.

Bondy nods. “Fifty bucks. Cash in advance.”

Adam hands him a hundred. “One for me and one for Brian,” he says. “Let's see this stuff in action.”

Afterward, Brian and Adam drop Bondy back at the 7-Eleven. Then Brian drives Adam home.

“You must be cleaning up with chicks by now,” Brian tells Adam as they drive. “With the booze and the homework and stuff. You sleep with that freshman yet?”

“Not yet.” Adam reaches over, fiddles with the radio. Finds a rap station from Detroit. “She told me she's not ready.”

“What about you?” Brian says. “Wait, are
you
still a virgin?”

Adam turns up the music. “Yeah,” he says, staring out the window. “She's my first girlfriend.”

“Shit, I'd go crazy,” Brian says. “Think you can wait?”

“I think so,” Adam tells him. “She's worth it.”

“I hope so,” Brian says. “For your balls' sake.”

Adam tests out his new ID on Friday.

It's the first week of school after break. Homework is steady but bearable. Victoria's at a movie with Steph.

What the hell
, Adam figures.
I could use a night off.

(Anyway, Crash is practically a business expense at this point.)

There's already a line out front when he rolls up. Pretty girls shivering in short dresses and guys with spiked hair and guido chains. Nobody Adam knows. No gods at the front of the line.

The bouncer's the same guy who turned Adam down a couple months back. This time, he just checks Adam's ID, checks Adam's face, steps aside.

Adam's in.

The club is foggy. Hot. Crowded. Adam pays the cover and walks into the mix. Nods his head to the music—

(some rowdy house/hip-hop mash-up)

—and pushes his way to the bar. Before he can get his drink, though, someone grabs his shoulder.
“Adam.”

It's Janie Ng.

She hugs Adam. “So good to see you!”

“Hey, Janie,” Adam says. “What's up?”

Janie says something, but it's too loud to hear. Adam just shrugs, and she gives up and drags him through the crowd to the
back of the club, where

Paul Nolan and Sara Bryant and Alton Di Sousa are hanging out by a banquette. They're all hammered. They all smile when they see Adam. Smile wide.

(Except Rob Thigpen. Rob Thigpen doesn't smile at Adam, but whatever.

It's all good.

Because:

Paul Nolan slaps him five.

Sara Bryant gives him a hug.

Alton thrusts a drink in his hand.

Crash, baby.

Hell yeah.)

Adam drinks the beer that Alton gives him.

He drinks the Bacardi and Coke that Jessie hands him.

He tries to buy a round. The gods aren't having it. Paul Nolan waves him off. “Don't even think about it, bro,” he tells Adam. “You came through at the party. Tonight it's on us.”

Adam protests.

(Weakly.)

Then he thinks, to hell with it.

He lets the gods buy him drinks.

He gets drunk, and then he gets drunker.

Crash, baby.

       (And burn.)

Dancing happens.

Jessie and Janie drag Adam to the dance floor. Paul Nolan and Sara Bryant start grinding. Alton picks up a college chick.

Adam's drunk.

He's a horrible dancer. Plus, he's distracted. He keeps looking over at Rob Thigpen, where he's standing at the bar with a couple of hockey buddies. He keeps having this thought, like he's realizing why he hates Rob Thigpen so much.

(Besides the fact that he's a dick.)

(And an asshole.)

(And he's probably trying to hook up with Adam's little sister.)

Adam's remembering Sam's accident.

It was a hockey game, Riverside versus Nixon. Some douchebag from Nixon hit Sam into the boards from behind. Everyone said it was an accident.

(You know all this.)

Adam's remembering the accident. He was there, at the game. He's remembering the Nixon douchebag hitting Sam into the boards. The guy skating around while Sam lay on the ice. Watching as the paramedics carted Sam off on a stretcher.

The douchebag's name was Thigpen, Adam's pretty sure.

He's, like, 99 percent sure the guy was Rob Thigpen's brother.

Adam's mind = blown.

He can
see
the name Thigpen on the back of the douchebag's jersey. Can see the guy tapping his stick on the ice as the medics wheeled Sam away.

(The asshole didn't even get a penalty.)

Everything's suddenly clear to Adam. He suddenly sees the light. Of course Rob Thigpen's popular, if his brother was a hockey god. The Thigpen name would be royalty at Nixon. Rob wouldn't even have to try.

It would have been the same at Riverside, if Sam hadn't had his accident. If the Nixon douchebag hadn't paralyzed Sam. Sam would be royalty.

Adam would be royalty.

Adam has that Thigpen douchebag to thank that he's not.

Adam stares at Rob Thigpen across the bar, until Rob Thigpen looks over at him. Rob curls his lip. Rob mouths something to his buddies.

Adam's suddenly mad.

He's suddenly headed over there to confront Rob Thigpen. Tell him what assholes he and his brother really are.

(He might even fight Rob Thigpen, maybe.)

Janie Ng intercepts him. Janie Ng saves the day.

She smiles at Adam. Leans in close and yells something Adam doesn't understand. Puts his hands on her hips and starts grinding—

(her ass)

—into the front of his Rag & Bone jeans.

Adam looks at Rob Thigpen again. Looks at Janie. Adam has a sudden flash of enlightenment:

No matter how much he hates Rob Thigpen for what his brother did to Sam—

(and for being an asshole),

no matter how much Adam wants to kick Rob Thigpen's ass—

(and he does),

there's no way Adam wins by fighting Rob Thigpen. There's no way he attains god status that way.

The minute Adam makes Rob Thigpen his enemy, it's all over.

The gods will side with Rob. They all love the bastard.

The goddesses, too.

And moments like tonight—

(with Janie Ng and the rest of them)

—will never happen again.

Rob's watching Adam. Watching Janie dance with him. And Janie's all over Adam now. She takes his hands in her own and runs them all over her body.

(She has a smoking-hot body.)

Adam dances with Janie. Adam can tell Rob is watching. And suddenly, Adam knows how to beat him.

How to hurt him.

Just keep winning, baby. Win until you're a bigger god than even Rob Thigpen. Win until you're big enough to tear him to pieces.

And rub his face in it the whole fucking way.

Janie turns around. Presses her body so close, Adam can feel her breath on his neck. She yells in his ear, “It's too hot in here.”

Janie's right.

It's stifling hot.

So many people.

So much fog.

Adam takes Janie's hand, leads her to the bar. Tries to score a glass of water.

No dice.

The bartender laughs in his face. Someone gives Adam a beer instead. Adam leaves it behind. Finds Janie again. Janie pulls him toward the front door, the street. “I know a place.”

Adam glances back as Janie leads him to the door. Finds Rob Thigpen in the crowd and gives him this wink and this smile,

like,

I'm better than you, asshole.

And I'll make sure they all know it.

It's chaos outside Crash. Snow's falling. Music's thumping. Drunk people everywhere. Janie leads Adam toward a pizza place down the block.

Then:

Janie slips

Loses her balance

Screams a little bit

Falls

      Adam catches her

Holds her up

Holds her tight

Holds her close

and that's when

Janie kisses him.

At first, Adam thinks:

Holy shit.

And then, Adam thinks:

Eat it, Thigpen
.

And somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, Adam thinks:

Victoria.

“Let's go somewhere.” Janie drags Adam back against a wall and starts kissing him again. “I know you want me.”

Adam's too drunk to do much but let her kiss him. “Janie,” he says.

“I
know
you want me.” Janie giggles. “I can
feel
it.”

She's not lying.

He can feel that she can feel it. And Adam's tempted. But he pushes Janie away. “Shit,” he says. “Janie. I have a girlfriend.”

Janie makes a face. “Who, that frigid little freshman?”

Adam shrugs.

Janie laughs. “I'll make you forget all about her, Adam,” she says. “Come on.” She looks up at him, and she's pretty and drunk and a goddess, and Adam thinks:

Damn it.

Damn it
.

He walks Janie back toward Crash, where Rob Thigpen and Paul Nolan and Sara Bryant and Jessie McGill and Alton Di Sousa are on their way out. Jessie winks at Adam. “Thought we lost you guys.”

“Just needed some air,” Adam tells her.

“We're hitting the Pancake House,” Paul Nolan says. “You guys coming?”

“There's, like, seven of us,” Adam says. “We won't fit in a cab.”

“So we'll take two,” Alton says. “You coming or no?”

Adam looks around. He's wasted already. He probably should go home.

Get some sleep.

Work on homework assignments.

But Janie's hanging on Adam's arm. The kids in the Crash line are staring

like they're jealous of Adam,

like he's some kind of God

(and Rob Thigpen's watching him, too).

“Fuck it,” Adam says. “Let's get pancakes.”

Needless to say, the weekend's a write-off.

Adam wakes up in Paul Nolan's basement late Saturday morning, fighting a—

(
killer
)

—hangover. Janie Ng's passed out beside him, in an old T-shirt and these little boy-shorts, and Adam's first thought is:

I'm still a virgin.

His next thought is:

I didn't cheat on Victoria.

(Well, not really.)

And his last thought is:

I'm going to throw up in Paul Nolan's basement.

Adam gets the hell out of there. Pukes in an alley. Staggers home to Remington Park, passes out in his room.

Sleeps—

(pretty much)

—until Monday.

Sara Bryant's at Adam's locker first thing Monday morning. “Do you have my physics paper? It's due tomorrow.”

Crap.

“I spent the weekend in bed,” Adam tells her. “Worst. Hangover. Ever.

“I'm sorry,” Adam tells her.

“I couldn't finish the paper,” Adam tells her.

Sara stares at him. “What do you mean, you couldn't finish? It's. Due. Tomorrow.”

“I didn't plan on getting so wasted on Friday,” Adam tells her. “I'll get it done tonight. Sorry.”

“You'd better,” Sara says. “These are my fucking
grades
, Adam. Where are your priorities?”

Sara swears.
“Jesus.”

Adam goes home Monday night. First thing he does is finish Sara Bryant's chem assignment.

(“Where are your priorities?”)

Then he goes on Facebook and updates Pizza Man Enterprises. Sends a PM to every one of his two hundred Likes. Offers club access.

Offers booze.

DIY.

Fake IDs, a hundred bucks a pop. Good as government.

Satisfaction guaranteed.

Five kids write back within the hour. By Tuesday morning Adam's taken his first ten orders.

A hundred bucks each.

A thousand bucks gross.

Five hundred bucks profit.

It's not enough.

Because—

(
after everything
)

—he's still just a hustler.

(He's not quite a god.)

Rob Thigpen—

    (that asshole)

—is still cooler.

And that's just not allowed.

Adam and Brian pick up the first batch of IDs. Brian's quiet as he drives. “What's up with you?” Adam says finally. “You're weirding me out.”

Brian doesn't say anything for a mile or two. Then he shrugs. “I'm cool.”

“Come on,” Adam says.

“Shit.” Brian sighs. “This ID thing, man. You sold a thousand dollars' worth of cards overnight.”

Adam grins at him. “Damn right,
we
did. What's the problem?”

Brian shakes his head. “I just wasn't expecting this,” he says. “I figured you'd pop off an ID a week, get us some weed money, that kind of thing.

“
This
stuff,” Brian says. “This is big business.”

“Yeah?” Adam says. “So what's the problem?”

“I just don't get your angle,” Brian says. “You're already in with the popular kids, right? You have this sexy girlfriend. Why bother going crazy at this point?”

Adam looks across the car at him.

Adam thinks:

Tony Montana, man.

The world is yours
.

“I know what I'm doing,” Adam says. “Just roll with it.”