Jerkbait (17 page)

29

I
was on the way to my car after rehearsal when I heard footsteps behind me. “Hey,” Keisha called. “Wait up!”

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“You’re going to pick up Robbie, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Can I come? I’ve got something for him.”

She walked with me to the car, so close I should have reached out and grabbed her hand. Instead, I opened her car door then got in. By instinct, I reached to turn off the music. She put her dark hand over my pale one. “What are you listening to?”

“
Carrie: The Musical.
I can turn it off.”

“Keep it on. I like campy shows.”

I nodded and slowly drove through the parking lot toward the arena, maybe slower than necessary just to spend more time with Keisha. When I parked, Robbie was waiting for me outside and walked over. He looked a bit confused when Keisha got out of the passenger side.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened with the party,” she said, pulling off her backpack. She reached in and pulled out a loosely wrapped bundle. “My uncle works at the Prudential Center, so it wasn’t too much, I swear.”

I peered over her shoulder as Robbie opened the paper. The red and black fabric was clearly a jersey. The back was signed with the inscription,
“To Robbie, Best of Luck This Season! Adam Henrique, 14.”

Robbie stood perfectly still before he lifted his head and squealed, “OH MY GOD!” Faster than I’d ever seen him move, he wrapped his arms around Keisha tightly. Even before the depressed, quiet persona kicked in, Robbie was never the type to bounce around in glee. “YOU ARE FREAKING AWESOME! I love you. Forget Tristan. You’re my new best friend.”

Keisha laughed as she patted Robbie’s back. “Well, I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it enough that I’d actually consider making out with you if Tristan didn’t have such a boner for you. Well, and if I, you know, liked girls.”

Keisha burst out laughing and pretended to slap Robbie. Her cheeks tinted faintly with a blush. I was certain my cheeks were burning.

“Anyway, I won’t keep you held up,” she said.

“Do you want a ride back to the parking lot?” I asked desperately.

“You know, as much as I’d like to say yes, it’s actually nice enough to walk. I love when it’s just starting to snow.” She stepped to me and gave me a hug. “I’ll see you at rehearsal, right?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.” I wrapped my arms around her, palms sweaty. The fruity scent of her hairspray was similar to what Heather used to use. Coconut. The pain of nostalgia hit my stomach. Why did I have to think of that right then? I felt soft pressure on my cheek. Keisha’s lips. A little kiss.

My eyes squeezed shut. If I didn’t take the opportunity, I might never get the balls to do it. Before Keisha could turn away, I leaned in quickly and pressed my lips to hers. Our noses collided. There was the clink of teeth. I felt her clear, plastic retainer. We pulled away from each other abruptly.

Our first kiss, and I absolutely butchered it.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll call you.” I said meekly, looking at the ground with hot cheeks.

“
I’d like that,” Keisha replied. “A lot.”

I shuffled toward the car. We got in, me watching Keisha walk away. Robbie taunted. “Giiiiiiirlfriend.”

“Shut up.”

“What? I think it’s cute.”

“As cute as Henrique is to you?”

I jabbed Robbie in the side, and he tugged his autographed jersey away from me. After a few moments, he replied,
“Touché.”

I smirked victoriously. It was nice to be in that good a mood, to joke around and not have to worry about what Robbie might do. At that moment, I could relish kissing Keisha for the first time, awkward as it was. The next time would be smoother. Maybe next time, it could be just me and Keisha, without Robbie.

30

I
sat in our room trying to work, but the monotony of our tiny prison made it hard to focus. Every few minutes, I’d refresh Facebook and Gmail, reading everything that arrived. Penis enlarger pills. An inheritance from a Nigerian prince. Something from a petition website. This was my life now. I’d drive Robbie to each hockey practice before taking off across campus to get to the auditorium for rehearsal. Two hours of bliss that left my body aching and voice sore. Two hours rehearsing alongside Keisha.

The moment rehearsal was over, Keisha and I would take off down the hall, hand-in-hand, across the parking lot and into the backseat of my car. We’d kiss, hard. Me on my back, Keisha on top of me, me making an effort to not grind against her until she shifted her weight and it was there, right there, four layers of fabric separating us. Reckless dry humping in the backseat of my car. It wasn’t long—one minute, two minutes, five—before my phone would buzz, a text from Robbie saying he was ready. I’d drive Keisha to her car, we’d kiss one last time, then I’d drive to the arena. Robbie would get in, and we’d go back.

“You know, if you want more time with Keisha, you could just ask,” Robbie said one night as we drove back.

I’d wanted to ask him how he knew, but Robbie just gave me the look. Another time, he reached into the glove compartment, grabbed an old napkin, and rubbed it over my mouth to get lipstick off like I was a child. “
They’ll kill you if they know you’re not watching me,” he’d explained.

Robbie, my brother. Robbie, my co-conspirator.

I wondered what he thought we were up to, if he knew it was only making out and some dry humping, my shaking hands afraid to stray from her back, her waist, once the back pockets of her skinny jeans, which made me come, sudden, fast, and left me red-cheeked and embarrassed and hoping she didn’t notice. I was always scared of kissing her neck in case I left a hickey, or that I didn’t know what to expect if I felt her up. I think she’d say yes, if I asked. Maybe the next time I would.

As playoffs
approached, the intensity increased, especially as our winning team hit a sudden losing streak. This was the second to last game. We needed to win both to get into the playoffs, and that’d be only by a point. It was absolutely critical.

The past few games had been painful. I watched as my brother tried to adjust to the lack of me. He wasn’t as bad as the first game after I quit. He looked good, but not superstar great. Dad had not been quiet in reminding Robbie that the last game before playoffs would be filled with scouts and that he needed to get his act together soon.

Tonight, the crowd was lackluster, barely cheering through the first two periods as we went down 2-1. Near the beginning of the third, my brother skated up to take the faceoff. From afar, I could see his opponent yapping. The second the puck dropped, Robbie and the opposing center’s gloves came off, sticks on the ground, helmets thrown off as they lunged toward each other.

It took both linesmen to pull Robbie off of the other guy and send both to the penalty box. When Robbie returned to the bench, our team tapped their sticks.

Even from a distance, I knew they were stick tapping the other team.

What the hell had the center said to him?

With the next few shifts, Coach yelled at Robbie to get faster and lighter. He was trying hard, so hard, but the spark was gone.
He
was gone.

Then it happened.

With eleven seconds left, I heard Robbie’s name. My
brother
didn’t even turn his head as he took off down the ice, with Raiden alongside him. They made eye contact moments before Raiden passed Robbie the puck. A switch flipped on.

Seven seconds.

I leaned forward. My brother lit up, the deadness in him vanishing. He deked past their defenders with ease and shot the puck. Their goalie knocked it back with his blocker.

Four seconds.

The puck bounced on the ice and my brother drew his stick back. Instead of shooting, he dragged his toe to the side in his signature move. Propelled with momentum, the goalie went down as Robbie flipped the puck up top shelf.

One second.

The lights above the goal lit up.

End buzzer.

Overtime.

Victory.

Game over.

31

“T
he room’s smaller.”

I took off my headphones and looked at Robbie. He paced the perimeter, stepping over the mattress and our clothes strewn on the ground. He touched the wall. “I swear to God, the room’s smaller.”

“That’s impossible, Robbie.”

“No seriously, Tristan. The room’s smaller.”

I folded my arms over my chest with a heavy sigh. True, the room felt smaller, but so did the house. Just confinement. Claustrophobia. Even though our calendar said a week passed, I couldn’t distinguish time. Isolation was changing me. I wasn’t able to listen to most of the musicals I used to love. Their happy lyrics and dance numbers made me feel more miserable and alone. I longed to be part of a happy group, to be preparing for a musical, or a play, or something. The characters in my stories were poor substitutes for company. More specifically, they were poor substitutes for Keisha. Rehearsals and a few minutes of fun weren’t enough.

I looked around the room, our tiny, hellish room, before it hit me. “I know how we can get out.”

Robbie watched as I pulled out my abandoned hockey bag and skates. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Grab yours, come on.”

I took off down the steps, slowing down just enough to make sure that Robbie indeed was coming after me as I went to the front door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dad asked, appearing around the hall corner like he’d been waiting.

I held up my skates by the laces. “Practice. Pond froze over.”

Sure enough, Dad nodded and went back to the newspaper, muttering, “Good, every little bit helps.” I pulled on my heavy coat, beanie, and gloves as I waited for Robbie to do the same, then led us out the door.

We trudged in our boots to Hollow’s Pond, just a few blocks from our house. Dad used to take us skating here when we were kids. It was frozen over. We slipped our skates on and skated over the fresh ice. My legs felt a little stiff through the first few laps, but as I warmed up, it felt easier; the ice was different than our school arena after the Zamboni slid by, but I liked it, liked the way my blades cut into it. More important, there were no walls out here.

As I changed direction, my feet grew lighter, my hips shifting. By instinct, I slipped into my choreography and sang to “An Accident Waiting to Happen.” I heard Robbie roar with laughter and stopped, ready to defend myself when I saw he wasn’t laughing at me but something on his phone.

Never had Robbie’s phone took precedence when he had his skates on and ice below him.

“What’s so funny?” I called.

Robbie looked at me and shoved the phone back in his pocket. “Sorry. Jimmy just said something funny.”

“Who?”

“Jimmy. You know the guy with the band?”

“Right . . .”

Robbie finally pushed out and did some fast laps and hard stops, stretching his limbs. Fast. Attack. Sharp. He drifted off into his zone, and I returned to the choreography, singing a bit louder as I twisted on the ice. It was hard to pretend not to skate well or be uncoordinated. It’s one of the reasons why the best dancers often played the clumsiest characters, like Craig getting Aldolpho.

“Holy shit.” Robbie skidded to a stop in front of me.

“What?”

“I didn’t know you could sing. You’re freaking amazing.”

I scanned his face for deception, but he looked awestruck. But that awe vanished as he patted his pocket for his cell again.

“Dude, come on,” I said. “We’re finally out of that damn room and you want to spend it texting?”

“I’m chatting,” he said. “On AIM. And it’s not like it’s hockey practice. Just . . . us, you know?” Robbie hesitated before handing his iPhone over, granting me brief permission to see into his life. Jimmy’s avatar was small and grainy. He had dyed blue hair and a goatee.

“
Isn’t he hot?” Robbie asked. “I mean, he’s not an athlete or anything, but that’s okay.”

“Uh, I’m not necessarily the best judge of that.”

“Hypothetically,” he insisted. “If I can hypothetically say Keisha’s attractive, don’t you agree about Jimmy?”

“Uh . . .” I squinted at the grainy photo. Hypothetically, I still didn’t think the guy was attractive. At all.

Robbie frowned. “I mean, he’s not a model or anything, but I dig the hair.”

“He looks older than twenty-four.”

“No, he doesn’t. The picture quality’s just bad,” Robbie snapped. I didn’t reply. Instead, I began to read the chat log between my brother and Jimmy.

hockeylover15: I’m seriously going insane.

Jimmy2416: what’s wrong??/

hockeylover15: I’m like a slave here. Room might as well be a dungeon.

Jimmy2416: oo kinky ^__~ LOL

hockeylover15: ROFL! OMG, no.

Jimmy2416: sorry couldn’t help it.

Jimmy2416: the idea of you in a dungeon . . .

hockeylover15: Awkward.

Jimmy2416: youd like that wouldnt you?

hockeylover2416: Not my thing . . . sorry.

Jimmy2416: im just kidding!!!

Jimmy2416: ::pulls you close and kisses you::

hockeylover2416: =) ::kisses back::

My brother looked up at me.
“See? I told you he was nice.”

“More like mildly creepy.”

“He was joking. Jeez, didn’t you see the LOL?”

I said nothing. Something about IM interchange left a bad taste in my mouth as Robbie slipped his cell back in his pocket. Maybe it was the dungeon reference, but Robbie seemed convinced he was joking, and Jimmy
did
use an LOL. I wasn’t sure why his being twenty-four bothered me so much either since we were eighteen. It wasn’t like the guy was seventy.

We returned to skating, me alongside my brother. I should have been happy that he was smiling, but I kind of felt jealous. Maybe that’s what put me on edge—jealousy. I missed Keisha, and unlike
Jimmy,
she was in school right now.

Then Robbie challenged me to a little one-on-one using a rock we found—not that it was any competition—and I forgot about Jimmy. Robbie’s talent had always been a source of bitterness, but with the musical, I found I genuinely
wanted
him to get drafted high. Our dreams no longer had to cancel each other out. And if he left, so could I.

I was
already asleep when Robbie crawled on my mattress and shook me; it was black outside the window. “Tristan, I know how we’re going to get out of here,” he whispered excitedly. “I know how we’re going to get out of this room.”

“How?” I asked groggily. Robbie was too close to me. There wasn’t enough space. Maybe the room really was shrinking.

“We’re going to go live with Jimmy.”

I rolled on my side and pulled blankets up over my face.

“No, seriously, hear me out.” I reluctantly sat upright and folded my arms over my chest to humor him. Yawning, I blinked my eyes to try and keep awake but I was just so tired. “
He lives in Philly. He can drive up, and we’ll go out with him, then email Mom and Dad to let them know we’re safe, we love them, and are giving them a wake-up call. If they agree to change, we’ll go back home right away. If not, we stay with Jimmy until they change their mind, which probably would be another week at the most. Best plan ever, am I right?”

Suddenly, I felt wide awake. I thought about the chat log Robbie let me read. It still unsettled me, maybe more now than it had at the time. “That’s sketchy as hell, Robbie. You haven’t even met him.”

“I
know
him. He’s my friend.”

“Who hits on you a lot.”

“He’s not going to do anything. Seriously.”

The idea didn’t seem that great to me, but Robbie looked thrilled, like he’d thought of the best idea in the world. The last time I saw him look so alive was before he came out, with the guys, on the ice.

“
You can see Keisha whenever you want! I bet he’d let you bring her over. Forget bet, I
know
he will.”

I stalled with Robbie’s obvious bribing. The prospect of seeing Keisha alone tempted me. It was hard not to think about her. I dreamed about her. I wanted to breathe her.

“Don’t you want to be free again? Jimmy’s doing us a favor.”

The idea didn’t seem as bad as it did a few minutes ago. Robbie was a good negotiator. He had some good points. Great ones, even. If Jimmy was some sketchy guy from the net, Robbie would have known by now since they talked for so long online. Whenever we watched the shows on Internet predators, they always went for younger kids anyway, usually girls. We were legal. Jimmy was probably safe.

But this was big. If we ran away and it backfired, we’d be possibly boarded up in the room until draft day. The room would shrink smaller and smaller, until we couldn’t move anymore.

What if I told Mom and Dad that Robbie was devising an insane scheme? Maybe they’d send him to a halfway home, or some place where he could be treated. Maybe they’d realize I was the responsible son, and Robbie was being a dumbass and desperately needed help. But why would they take my side? They never had.

Not to mention, if all it took was a few days for our parents to realize the errors of their ways and set us free, that would be worth it. Wouldn’t it? My disappearance wouldn’t be worth as much as my brother’s, but we could have normal lives again. I could get my room back, and spend time with Keisha. He could play hockey.

There would be no backing out once a decision was made. It had to be the right one. Robbie trusted me to make the final call.

I took a deep breath, and decided.