Initiation (23 page)

“Sorry, I guess I’m just feeling burnt out.” He took a deep breath. “It’s like I just limped through the finish line, only to realize I have to run another race.”

Devin sauntered toward Carter, his baggy jean shorts hanging to mid-calf, his flat-top three inches above his head.

“What’s up,” he said, smiling.

“Hey, Devin,” Sarah said.

“Congratulations,” Carter said. “All state in the 200 is pretty crazy.”

Devin shrugged. “I was actually second, but thanks. You should’ve run. We could’ve used another sprinter for the four by one.”

“With work and everything …”

“You got the rest of your life to work, only one more year to play sports.”

Carter looked away.

Devin shook his head. “Come on, man, I know you wanna play. I heard you’ve been running up at the track at night. And I know you got those weights in your garage. You look like you’ve been using ’em.”

“I said the same thing,” Sarah said. “He does all these insane workouts. I don’t see the point if he’s not going to play a sport.”

“I have to look good for you,” Carter said to Sarah with a wink.

She rolled her eyes.

“You know, Coach Goodman’s not that bad,” Devin said. “I bet he’d let you back on the team. We have nobody at safety right now.”

“I still can’t believe they fired Cowan,” Sarah said.

“Someone wrote a really good article,” Carter said, flashing Sarah a grin.

Devin didn’t let up. “Coach Goodman’s been on our asses about the hazing too. He said if anyone is caught hazing they’d be thrown off the team.”

Carter nodded.

“He’s here today.”

Carter nodded again.

“You could go talk to him,” Devin said.

Carter looked at Sarah.

She held her hands up. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “It’s your decision. I just want you to do what makes you happy.”

* * *

Carter stared at the placard on the wooden door.
Head Football Coach Lyle Goodman
. He took a deep breath and tapped on the door. A massive man answered. Coach Goodman had a barrel chest, a blockhead, and salt and pepper stubble. He narrowed his eyes.

“Carter Lynch,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“Can I talk to you?” Carter asked.

He frowned. “I can give you a couple minutes. I have a coaches’ meeting at three.”

Coach Goodman lumbered behind the dark oak desk and eased into the leather chair with a groan.

“Old knees,” he said, placing his meaty forearms on the desk.

Behind him were shelves loaded with pictures and memorabilia from his playing days at Virginia Tech and the Kansas City Chiefs.

Carter bit the inside of his cheek. “I’d like to get back on the football team.”

Coach Goodman winced and sat back in his chair. “That won’t to be possible.”

Carter’s mouth was a flat line. “Why not?”

“Well for one, you admitted to being a part of that hazing mess. This program needs to heal. We need to distance ourselves from that nonsense.”

Carter stood up. “I was forced to do it!”

Coach Goodman was expressionless. “For two, you and your little girlfriend extorted four hundred dollars from me. You’re lucky I never called the cops.”

“This is bullshit and you know it.”

“You’re not cut out to be part of a team. You’re a cancer, pure and simple.”

Carter marched to the office door and opened it.

Coach Goodman said, “Leave it open.”

Carter slammed the door as he left.

* * *

The hamburgers sizzled as Sarah pressed down on the metal spatula. Carter sat at the kitchen table, staring out the bay window. She opened the oven door.

“I think the fries are ready,” she said.

Carter stood and trudged to the stove, grabbing an oven mitt from the counter. Sarah moved aside as Carter pulled a metal tray filled with golden brown crinkle-cut fries. He shut the oven and Sarah moved back over the stove top. She placed squares of cheese on the burgers. Carter grabbed two plates and two glasses from the cupboard. Buns popped from the toaster. Sarah readied the burgers while Carter shoveled fries onto their plates. They sat down at the kitchen table.

Carter’s eyes were glazed. He stared out the window, chewing slowly, as if eating were another burden to bear.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot.”

Carter looked at Sarah. “No, it’s not your fault. The four hundred dollars was just an excuse. It wouldn’t have mattered either way.”

“Well it’s not fair. We can appeal to the school board. I could write a follow-up article.”

“Sarah, no.” Carter shook his head. “I don’t wanna play anymore. It was a stupid idea.”

“I just –”

The phone rang. Sarah walked over to the phone and picked it up.

“Hello?” There was a pause. “Oh hey, Devin, did you want to talk –. Okay, hold on.”

Sarah stretched the long cord to Carter.

“It’s Devin,” she said, her brow furrowed. “He says it’s important.”

Carter used his napkin to wipe the salt from his fingertips before grabbing the phone. “Devin, what’s up?”

Carter heard cars and trucks in the background.

“You gotta get down to Zach’s farmhouse,” Devin said.

“Why?”

“Your sister’s there and shit is getting out of control.”

“Where are you?”

“At a gas station pay phone in the middle of nowhere. I had to get out of there. Tasha was really upset. We should have never gone. She said Zach grabbed her. I confronted him, but what was I gonna do. He’s huge and he had his boys with him. He kicked us out. When we were leaving, I saw Justin coming in with Alyssa.”

“Shit.”

Carter scribbled the directions Devin gave him on a scrap of paper.

He drove Julie’s Honda Coupe through the darkness. Sarah was in the passenger seat, gripping the armrest on the door. A horn honked and high beams flashed as they flew past a slow moving pickup.

“Turn right! That’s Cavanaugh Road,” Sarah said.

The tires chirped as he turned from the asphalt road. Gravel spewed from the wheels as they flew down the country lane. Carter pulled over in the field among the other cars.

“Stay here,” he said to Sarah. “I’ll be right back.”

“No way,” she said. “I’m coming with you.”

They jogged up to the front door. Sarah struggled to keep up in her flip-flops. Her camera was strapped across her chest. The buzz of voices intermingled with rap music was audible through the door. They entered without knocking. The living room lights were low. Football players and girls made out on the couch and the floor. Most were clothed, but some far less so. Bodies were intertwined and groping. They searched the twisted pack for Alyssa or Justin. No sign of them. They entered the dining room to the left. The crowd around the table cheered as Noah sank a quarter into a shot glass.

“Holy shit,” Noah said, recognizing Carter.

The crowd turned to Carter and Sarah. Amber stood in her short jean shorts and cowboy boots. She had her arm around Luke, her hand in his back pocket.

“Where’s my sister?” Carter said to no one in particular. The crowd was silent.

Amber laughed, cutting through the quiet.

“She’s thirteen,” Carter said.

“Someone might want to tell Justin that’s felony statutory rape,” Sarah added.

“She’s upstairs,” Luke said.

Amber scowled at Luke. Carter and Sarah ran upstairs. They opened and shut doors, disturbing consenting couples. The last door at the end of the hall was to the master bedroom. It was locked. Carter banged on the door.

“Go away, motherfucker, I’m busy,” Justin said.

Carter backed up. Sarah stepped aside. He sprinted toward the door, lowering his shoulder. He blasted through the door, the jamb splintering. Alyssa was on her knees, topless, her upper body waiflike. Mascara ran down her face. Justin stood in front of her, his pants down, his hand around his erection. Zach stood in the background, fully clothed. He yanked his hand out of his pants as the door crashed open. Sarah took a picture of the scene, keeping Alyssa’s chest out of the shot.

“What the fuck?” Justin said his hand still on his penis.

Alyssa scrambled for her tube top. She put it on, standing and staggering toward Carter and Sarah. Justin grabbed her arm.

“Let her go,” Carter said.

Sarah snapped another photograph. “Unless you want to be in
The Washington Post
for felony statutory rape,” Sarah said.

Justin let go. “I didn’t touch her.” He pulled his pants up.

Alyssa stumbled away.

“Are you all right?” Carter asked. “Did he touch you?”

She shook her head. “Wanna go home,” she slurred.

Sarah and Carter escorted Alyssa out of the farmhouse unmolested. They supported her weight as she was unable or unwilling to walk on her own. Carter reclined the front passenger seat, and they set her down. Her micro skirt rode up her legs exposing black lace underwear. Sarah pulled her skirt down and squeezed into what was left of the miniature back seat. Carter drove with the flow of traffic.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Carter said.

“Gonna throw … up,” Alyssa said, barely audible.

“Pull over,” Sarah said.

Carter pulled over on the shoulder of the two-lane highway. Sarah helped Alyssa out of the car and into the grass. Carter stood, leaning against the Honda, his arms crossed. Sarah held back her hair as Alyssa puked. After, they put her back in the reclined seat and continued on their way.

“How long have you been drinking like this?” Carter said.

She was breathing heavily.

“I think she passed out,” Sarah said.

* * *

The townhouse was dark as Carter pulled into the visitor’s space. He exited the Coupe and pulled the seat forward. Sarah stepped out. They walked around the car and opened the passenger door. Alyssa was snoring.

“Thank you for helping,” Carter said.

Sarah kissed him on the cheek. “You’re welcome. You need help getting her inside?”

“No. She’s gonna walk herself inside.”

Carter reached into the car, unbuckled the seatbelt and shook Alyssa. She groaned, her eyes sealed shut. He shook harder.

“Wake up,” he said. “I’m not carrying you. Wake up.”

Alyssa curled up tighter in the fetal position.

Carter frowned at Sarah. He reached inside and hauled his sister out of the car, one arm under her knees and one behind her back.

“Can you open the garage for me?” Carter asked.

She giggled. “I thought you were going to make her walk.”

Sarah pulled the garage door up. Carter pecked her on the mouth and slipped inside with Alyssa in his arms. Sarah shut the door behind them. Carter stopped at the basement door, turning the knob with some difficulty. He pushed inside, his forearm still supporting his sister. The lamp at the computer table flicked on. Jim stood up from the swivel chair, his face red, his jaw clenched. Carter stood, holding onto Alyssa, whose skirt was hiked up. Her tube top left her midriff and shoulders exposed. She smelled like alcohol, smoke, and vomit.

Jim stalked closer like a lion about to pounce. “Put her down,” Jim said.

Carter set her feet down, but her arms clung around his neck. He dipped his head under her arms and set her down. She assumed the fetal position on the floor. Jim bent down, his face inches from hers.

“Wake up!” Jim said.

Alyssa’s eyes shot wide open. She pushed herself against the wall, away from Jim.

“Stand up,” Jim said.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Alyssa said, blubbering.

“I said, stand up. Don’t make me ask again.”

Carter helped Alyssa to her feet. She stood, holding Carter’s arm for support. She looked at the floor, tears dripping on the carpet.

“Why does she smell like a fuckin’ brewery?”

Carter was silent. Alyssa sniffled.

Jim stiffened his jaw and put his hand under his daughter’s chin. He forced her eyes up to meet his. “Where did you get the alcohol?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

She glanced at Carter.

“Did Carter have something to do with this?”

“No.”

“Why did you look at him?”

“No reason.”

He narrowed his eyes at Carter then back to his daughter. “Where were you?”

She looked down, but Jim jerked her head back. “It was a party, okay.”

Carter bit the inside of his cheek.

“A middle school party?” Jim asked. “A bunch of eighth graders gettin’ wasted?”

Alyssa was silent. Her eyes flicked to Carter.

“Why do you keep lookin’ at him?” Jim said.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“How
old
were the
fuckin’
kids at this party?”

Carter and Alyssa were silent.

“Answer me!” Jim said.

“High school,” she said, new tears spilling down her face.

“Lemme guess, graduation party?” Jim shook his daughter.

She nodded, sobbing.

“Did anybody touch you?” Jim said.

She shook her head.

“If I find out some eighteen-year-old piece of shit touched you, he’ll be goin’ to jail if I don’t fuckin’ kill him first.” He glared at Alyssa. “And look at this shit you’re wearin’. You look like a fuckin’ hooker. What the hell is wrong with you?”

She glanced at Carter.

Jim glowered at Carter, then at Alyssa. “Did he have something to do with this?”

“No,” she said.

He let go of Alyssa’s chin. Her head drooped. He clenched his fists at his side, turning his attention to Carter. “If you didn’t have anything to do with this, why are you sneaking her in at midnight?”

Carter was unresponsive.

“And how in the hell is a little girl gettin’ into a high school party?”

Carter shrugged.

“You better come up with an answer before I bash your
fuckin’
head in.”

“It doesn’t matter what I say,” Carter said in monotone.

“Alyssa, get your ass upstairs. Now,” Jim said.

She staggered past Jim, her head down. Jim waited, silently stewing while Alyssa trudged up the steps. Jim stared at Carter, his eyes wide open like Mike Singletary on a blitz. He rolled his neck.

“I know you’re involved somehow,” Jim said, rocking from one foot to the other. “This shit stinks like you.”