Stick (16 page)

Evan and Bosten sat down on the rocks in front of the car and started smoking pot. Evan had a big bag of weed with him, and he sure knew how to roll joints. He'd probably kick Bosten out of California if he saw the crippled excuses for joints he and his boyfriend produced. And the pot Evan had was really green and smelled a lot different from the Mexican weed Paul's brother brought from Texas.

Stinkier, if it was possible.

I sat down beside Bosten and bumped his knee with mine.

“Give me the keys.” I held my hand out in front of him.

Bosten dug around in his pocket and dropped Dahlia's keys into my palm. He put his arm around me and squeezed, then he bumped Evan's shoulder. “I have the coolest little brother       in the fucking world.”

They laughed.

I kept my hand out. “And your wallet.”

I wasn't about to get caught without a driver's license in a different state, and I looked enough like Bosten from the front that nobody would question it. Good thing they didn't have a check-box for
NUMBER OF EARS
on Washington State licenses.

Bosten said, “Sticker, if you're looking for a rubber, I used my          last one                           a month ago.”

Evan and Bosten almost fell off the rocks laughing.

I rolled my eyes. “You are so dumb.”

And as I stood up, I whispered to them, “But the deal is, you two have to sit in back and Kim sits up front with me.”

Evan put out his hand, and I slapped it.

He said, “Fair enough.”

I tucked Bosten's wallet down the front of my shorts and jangled the keys in my hand as I walked back to the car. Kim stood by the grille, watching me.

“See how dumb he is?” I said.

*   *   *

Trying to drive that big
car through Ventura and Oxnard with a stoned fifteen-year-old kid in the backseat giving me directions was probably the same thing as being stoned myself. Bosten just kept giggling, especially when I forgot the Dodge was automatic and mistook the brake pedal for the clutch.

Yeah, that didn't win me any points with Kim. She almost put her forehead into the dashboard.

Evan attempted to navigate us to Sal's Mexican Inn, the place where Bosten and I had eaten on our first evening in California.

“Everyone       from the Strand       eats at Sal's,” Evan said. “We've even been there with Dahlia.”

“Okay. You said that a million times. Which way am I supposed to go?” I said.

I saw Evan kind of snap up in the rearview mirror. Then he looked around and said, “What        are we doing in       fucking El Rio?”

Bosten exploded in laughter. “Sticker! What       are you              taking  us to        fucking  El Rio       for?”

If I was a better driver, I probably would have seriously thought about reaching back and slapping Evan and Bosten. They were laughing so hard, I could see tears coming out of Evan's eyes, and they both kept chanting, over and over,

“Fucking El Rio.

Fucking El Rio.

Fucking El Rio.”

I mean, I knew the place didn't look right. It was nothing but farmland, orange groves, and little shacks with chickens running around the yards and Mexican kids playing in the dirt on the side of the road. I pulled the Dodge over and parked it beneath a dusty avocado tree.

I sighed. “You are both so fucking dumb.”

Then Kim started laughing. She slid her hand across the white vinyl seat and she                       grabbed my hand.

I looked at her. I wanted to be sure it wasn't the kind of hand-grab where she was just trying to calm a little kid down, or get my attention so she could tell me to grow up. It was an honest-to-God, actual holding of my hand.

It felt as good as Emily washing my hair.

Maybe better.

I had to look away from her instantly.

What was she doing?

She was so beautiful, and can't she see how goddamned ugly I am?

People don't touch me.

I felt sick, like I was going to pass out. There were little prickles under my hair. I squeezed her hand back. I was acutely aware of every needle-sharp grain of sand inside my underwear.

Kim said, “I know     how to get to Sal's.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” If my voice was an eggshell, it had a million cracks in it at that moment.

“I thought     driving       around with you       was fun.”

“Oh.”

It turned out that Sal's was only about five minutes from fucking El Rio.

I wished it were farther, because I was getting pretty good at driving one-handed.

*   *   *

Kim Hansen was the first girl
who ever kissed me. She did it when Bosten and Evan carried their surfboards around the twins' house to hang them up on the back patio. Right there in the shade on the side of her house, she just grabbed me by my neck and pulled my face right down into hers.

I didn't know anything about kissing, but I could tell that Kim was probably as practiced at it as her brother was at rolling joints. I never knew that tongues could be so useful, or the inside of someone else's mouth could taste so good. And Kim kind of made squeaking, satisfied noises while we made out.

She even slid her hand up beneath my Sex Wax shirt and rubbed my bare back.

But I was so scared, I couldn't talk after that kiss. And I felt terribly guilty and ashamed, too, because somewhere, in the back of my mind, I had this idea that if I wasn't ever going to have a “first kiss” with Paul Buckley's mom, it was for sure going to be with Emily Lohman. And now I was horrified, because what would Emily do when I kissed her all like I knew what I was doing and stuff? She'd have to know I'd done it before.

With someone else.

And that made me feel really bad.

“Okay,” Kim said. “Sorry.        I just had to see what you kissed like.”

And then she just flipped her hair around and went back to where Bosten and Evan were.

Just like that.

But before Bosten and I went home to Aunt Dahlia's, I followed Kim inside the house and stopped her on her way to take a shower.

“That's not fair,” I whispered. “You just can't do stuff like that and walk away.”

“Why        not? I was dying to know.”

“Well? I nev— What
do
I kiss like, anyway?”

“Very,     very sweet.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.        Now you can tell people you drive at night, oh … with just one hand, blow things up, and French-kiss older girls when      nobody's watching.”

I thought about slipping in something like
and I take baths completely naked with Emily Lohman
.

“Nobody has mottos that long.”

*   *   *

I drove the car
back to Dahlia's. It was still light outside, and we were happy to be home.

And satisfied.

Everything changed when we spent those days with Aunt Dahlia. We couldn't help it.

It was like the tide.

I never lied to Aunt Dahlia. It was one thing keeping secrets about other people—Bosten, Emily, Mom, and Dad—but I couldn't stand keeping secrets about me from her. So I told her that I'd driven her car home that day. I didn't say why, but maybe she already knew anyway. Maybe she could keep secrets about Bosten, too.

“I drive a lot of times,” I said.

Her eyes smiled at me, like it was no big surprise. And she said, “When I was your age, there was         no such thing as            not old enough. You could either do something, or you couldn't.”

“Well. I can drive.”

“You're       bigger than both of us,” she said.

“If you're hiding something from me, don't put it on top of the refrigerator.”

Dahlia laughed. “One day, I'll have you take me         for a drive, Stark.”

I nodded.

*   *   *

When Bosten and I
were in bed, the phone rang. I sat up and saw the pass of Dahlia's shadow in the crack of light beneath our door.

Nothing good ever comes out of a telephone at night.

“I bet that's     them,” Bosten said.

“You want to get up and talk to them?”

“No.”

There came a very soft knocking on our door.

Everything Dahlia ever did was soft.

She peeked in on us. “Your mother     is on the phone,” she whispered.

Bosten didn't move. It was like he was talking to the ceiling when he said, “Please tell her we're asleep,    or we're out with our friends     on the beach. Tell her anything you think of.”

Dahlia just nodded and shut the door without making a sound.

*   *   *

“Bosten?”

“What?”

“Are you asleep?”

“Dumbshit.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I made out with Kim today. She put her tongue

in my mouth.”      

“Shut up.”

“Swear to God.”

“Why?”

“She told me she wanted to. Just like that. And I thought

it was sexy.”        

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah.”

“See? I told you.”

“What?”

“You
are
what you
are
, Stick. Nobody and nothing is going

to make you change.”        

My brother knew the truth about everything.

*   *   *

Easter was laundry day.

We had to get ready to go home.

I'd never been to a funeral, but I couldn't imagine anything could have made Bosten and me feel gloomier than thinking about leaving Dahlia and California.

And in those last few days on the Strand, we surfed from morning to evening.

Kim didn't make out with me again, but I so desperately wanted to. Neither of us said a word about it. Sometimes she'd hold my hand, or put her arm across my back out in the water, but she did that kind of stuff to Bosten and her brother, too. It was like nothing ever happened, which made it all seem even more like a dream to me, even if I couldn't get the taste of Kim Hansen out of my mouth.

The only good part about going back—if there was one—was that Mrs. Buckley and Paul were going to pick Bosten and me up at the airport in Seattle. They were going to take me to the Lohmans' house, and Bosten was supposed to stay with Paul until the weekend before school started again. So that meant I'd get to keep my Sex Wax shirt and actually wear it for Emily in Washington.

And, probably, with Mom out of the house, nobody would ever find it, anyway.

I was barefoot, wearing only my Washington jeans and nothing else, carrying every last article of clothing Bosten and I owned in a bundle through Aunt Dahlia's kitchen.

“Can you show me how to work your washer?” I said.

“Oh, sweetie,                 you just leave those here on the table and I'll take care of you                           boys' washing.”

“Really?” I hesitated to put our stuff down on top of her table.

“Really. Don't be silly, now.”

I put down the bundle of laundry. Socks and everything. “Me and Bosten

                                          always have to do our own stuff at home.           Mom                      

                                                     says              boys' things are dirty.”

“What kind of                     crazy notion is that?”

I didn't know what kind of crazy notion it was.

Bosten was dressed the same as me—jeans and nothing else—and he came scooting out of the bedroom when Evan and Kim knocked on Dahlia's front door. It was going to be our last day surfing together.

The twins already had their wetsuits on.

They smelled like Sex Wax.

I know I will never get that particular smell out of my head, no matter how long I live or don't live. The four surfboards leaned against Dahlia's rickety fence, and Evan carried the extra two suits he'd been loaning us all week, flopped over his shoulder like dead animal hides.

All of us could see the gloom in one another's eyes. In some ways, I guess, that was a good thing, because it meant that we really were friends, and that, maybe, Bosten and I did find a place where we could fit in. And it was a place that had only one rule, as far as I could tell, and it was an easy rule to follow: Love each other.

Evan plopped the wetsuits down on Dahlia's living room floor. “You guys can             have these. Take them back to                     Washington              with you.”

“Really?” I said.

“Really. I get a new suit                       every few months, anyway.”

Bosten said, “I don't                    think any guys surf in              Washington.”

“Then                                       hold on to them until you come back,” Evan said. I could tell it was kind of hard for him to say that. He shrugged, and added, “Besides,                       you peed in them.”

“Ha!” I laughed. “Only about a million times! Thanks, Evan.”

Bosten picked up his suit and started back toward our bedroom so he could put it on. I noticed Kim, standing behind her brother on the cracked walkway leading to Dahlia's door.

She said, “You          know you guys                           have eggs out here?”