Perfectly Good White Boy (31 page)

“I really don't want to do this,” I said to Neecie as we were herded through a line back into the school, the hellhole we'd supposedly officially escaped, but she just pushed me forward to the assembly line, where we all stripped out of our caps and gowns and signed forms and checked in all our stuff and learned all about our diplomas being mailed and whatever.

“You have to go in for a little while, Sean. Just try. Just an hour, try it.”

“Then can I leave?”

“If you leave, you can't come back.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

But I stayed, for more than an hour. All the guys went down to the locker room, where people's dads were, supervising that we weren't fucking off or smuggling in booze or anything, just changing out of our dorky fancy clothes and into our normal stuff, and it was loud in the school, all the fans running because there was no air-conditioning. Then Eddie and me spent a while eating all the free food, pizza and sub sandwiches and chips and tacos and Mountain Dew, and after that we ripped open pull tabs for all these prizes, like bicycles and dorm fridges and gift certificates and even a car, and I won a dorm fridge, which I had no use for, so I gave it to Neecie to claim and she hugged me and smelled like cake, and I wanted to get her alone, because, The Horn, of course. I was hypnotized by her long hair and The Horn and how sad I didn't want to feel, because she was smiling that I was still there, staying, like she thought I'd listened to her and taken her advice. She and Ivy went off to the library, which was now a beauty salon where everyone got their nails and hair done and henna tattoos, and it all smelled like chemicals that gave me a headache, so I went to play basketball in the gym with Eddie, and I ended up on Brandon Houseman's team, and he said his uncle was a Marine Corps master gunner sergeant and had been to Iraq three times, and it was badass and congratulations, and then I went to get some water and found Neecie and said, “Now. Now can we leave?”

And she turned, from where she was getting her fingernails painted next to that one Hannah chick, the one who was with (or had been with) Tristan Reichmeier, and said, no, she wasn't leaving, she didn't want to go.

And I might have yelled or gotten pissed, but I couldn't do that, because I wasn't a baby or her boyfriend. I don't know what I was, but I was someone who she tossed the keys of her car to and said that once they unlocked the doors at six a.m., everyone was going down to the trestle to party, and while that sounded horrible, I could go down there and meet her later, pick her up.

“Sure,” I said. And then I walked out past someone's dad who told me if I left I couldn't come back again and I said fine.

It wasn't even nine o'clock, so I drove home, and surprised the fuck out of my mom and Steven-Not-Steve, who looked like they'd been fooling around on the couch instead of folding programs for the wedding. Steven-Not-Steve was kind of red in the face and my mom was all giggly and weird, but I didn't say anything to them. I mean, they were grown adults, right?

Then Krista came over with a bunch of snacks, and so I sat and folded programs and watched some TV with everyone and then a dog food commercial came on and I started crying and Krista said, “Oh, honey” and my mom rubbed my back and said I couldn't keep making wedding stuff or I'd get all my sadness into everything, like in that one movie set in Mexico where the sister cries into the soup and everyone who eats it feels sad.

Then she laughed a little and kept patting my back, and I felt like she was my mom again, like she loved me after all, and I wasn't just tiring her out. She took my hand and led me down to my bedroom and I took off my shoes and got in bed and she pulled the covers over me and sat there while I cried and tried to be cool about it, which is stupid to try to do in front of your mom, who used to give you baths and change your diapers and knew every horrible thing about you anyway.

But my mom didn't say anything. No lectures, no telling me it would be okay. Just scooped a bunch of hair away from my ear—hair that would be gone soon enough—just like she did when I was a little boy and was sick or couldn't sleep, her fingers soft around my temple until I fell asleep.

I woke up at five and couldn't get back to sleep. Almost called Otis. Then remembered. A sock to the gut. How many times would I do that before I figured out he was really gone?

Not many. You'll be gone in two weeks.

I pissed. Showered. Dressed. It was raining and grey. I went out back and looked at Otis's grave. The flowers all wet and hanging over at weird angles. A big streak of lightning cracked over the freeway then, and I went inside and drank a ton of orange juice. Then went into my mom's room.

“Sean? Are you okay?”

“Fine. Gonna go grab some breakfast with everyone. The lock-in's done soon.”

“Okay.”

“See you later.”

“Sean?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm really going to miss you. You know that? I really am.” I nodded.

“I'm worried about you, though.”

“I know.”

“I'm trying not to be,” she said. “Steven has been talking me off the wall about it. He's been good at reminding me of my locus of control.”

I nodded again. Like I knew what a locus of control was.

“Steven's my boyfriend,” she said. “I mean, I don't think you're surprised,” she added, sitting up now, her purple-flowers comforter going around her. She tucked her knees up under her nightshirt and ducked her head.

“Thought I might have walked into something there,” I said.

“Sorry,” she said, looking more embarrassed. “We just didn't hear you because . . .”

“Because Otis didn't bark.”

“Right,” she said, and she looked like she might cry. I couldn't handle it. And I couldn't cry anymore. I'd cried way too much already.

“Do you like him? Steven? I mean, do you have a good time together?”

She tipped her head to the side. “You know, I do like him. I mean, I wouldn't say he's like a roller-coaster ride kind of boyfriend—having a good time isn't exactly the same for me as it might be for you—but yeah. We enjoy being around each other. It's nice. Very nice.”

I was glad about that, though I wasn't in any rush to see her kiss him for real. Not just because it was Steven-Not-Steve, but also because I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen her kiss my actual own father. How depressing that was, to get old and know that you didn't even get to do stuff like that anymore! Like you just had to work and pay bills and deal with your house crap and never have any fun. Never have anyone be nice to you.

“Well . . . good,” I said. “You deserve that stuff. To, you know. Make out with someone nice for a change.”

“Sean!” She laughed.

“I just . . . I'll make more noise, try to knock, from now on.”

“For the next fourteen days, you mean.”

“Yeah. After that, you can go crazy.”

“Wait till I tell Steven you said so!”

“Do
not
tell him I said that, Mom.”

“Oh, I'm just kidding,” she said, smiling a little. “He's kind of private about that stuff.”

“Well, who isn't?” I said.

“Is Neecie . . . is she your girlfriend or something, honey?”

I sighed. “Well, no. Not really.”

“Oh. Did you have a fight or something?”

I shook my head. “I just didn't want to stay at the lock-in thing.”

She kept looking at me, though. “Go have your breakfast, honey. I'll see you later. Krista's having us over to the apartment to do the seating plan, okay? Plan to be there around six, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Sean.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I said. “I love you too.”

Outside the front of the school, there were Neecie and Eddie and Ivy, and Neecie saw her own car, because I drove her Blazer back, or maybe she just heard it, being as loud as a fucking 747 like it was, and all three of them looked kind of blown-out and hung-over, which was funny, given that the point of the Senior Lock-In was keep everyone sober and not have any tragedy strike on our Very Special Day.

They all got in, Neecie in front, Ivy and Eddie in the back, and when I asked where to go, none of them said to the trestle, because nobody gave a shit about trying to drink after staying up all night. So we went to IHOP and ate a bunch of pancakes and bacon and shit, and Ivy was laughing about how she grabbed this one girl's ass when they were standing in line for popcorn in the movie area, and the girl thought Tristan Reichmeier did it, and then she cried and Tristan got bitched at by somebody's mom, and it was so funny but goddamn was Ivy glad neither of her parents ever did shit like volunteer for things like that, because she would have been so embarrassed, so thank fucking god her mom was never around anyway, because she hated her mom, since she was a fucking selfish drunk bitch.

And I kind of stared at Ivy for the rest of breakfast because I didn't think I'd ever have one thing in common with her, ever, and I kind of wished I could just say things like that, just balls out, about my dad being a drunk and hating him.

Eddie paid for the whole breakfast. I think he was trying to impress Ivy, mostly, but it was really nice of him, and I thanked him a whole bunch while the girls were in the bathroom.

“I'm sorry I hit you,” I said.

“What?”

“That day in the library. That was shitty. I shouldn't have.”

“Why are you saying this, man? That was like a million years ago.”

“Because. Because I should have said it before. It was pussy not to. And I'm leaving soon, and who knows when I'll be back.”

“You're not gonna get killed in basic training, dumbass,” Eddie said. “It's not gonna be like
Full Metal Jacket
or anything.”

“Has everyone seen that movie besides me?”

“You haven't seen it yet? Dude, you have to see it. It's fucking hilarious. Well, not all of it. But a lot of it.”

“You and Ivy? You guys should come to Brad's wedding.”

Eddie laughed. “Just so you won't die of boredom?”

“No,” I said. “Well, kinda. I'm gonna have Neecie come.”

“Don't I need an official invitation, though?”

“What? No.”

“Dude, you better ask. When my sister got married, my mom was super tight about the invites. Like, I was shocked she let me invite you.”

“I came with my
family
, idiot,” I said. “Your family probably got an invite, right?”

“How should I know?”

“I'll figure it out,” I said. “But it'll be fun, if you guys come. It's out at that camp on Prairie Lake, and we've rented all the camper cabins and stuff, if you want to stay all night. And we can probably drink and everything, too, if we're not too obvious about it. I know Brad wouldn't get married without getting a keg, you know?”

“Cool,” Eddie said. “We'll definitely go, then.” He slid his arm around Ivy's neck as she came up from the bathroom and kissed her cheek and Ivy said, “Go where? I'm so tired. I just want to go home and shower and sleep for five hundred years.”