Tag Along (10 page)

“Uh, yes sir,” says Paul. “I've been through driver's ed and got my full license a couple of months ago.”

“And there will obviously be no joyriding or going over the speed limit?”

“For sure,” says Paul. “I mean, I'll drive safe. No speeding.”

“There will be no drinking and driving, will there?”

“Dad!” says Roemi. “No drinking and
anything!
Come on, I promise.”

Roemi's dad thinks about it for a moment, his face deadly serious.

“Okay then,” he says. “As long as safety comes first. Use your seat belts!” He smiles broadly again. “The keys are hanging on the wall in the garage.”

“Great, thanks,” says Roemi. “Come on,” he says, turning to the rest of us. “Let's go up to my room so I can throw some jeans on.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say to his parents as Roemi hustles us out of the family room.

“Have fun!” they say in unison.

Roemi's bedroom is as impressive as the rest of the house, although quite a bit messier. Sliding glass doors open onto a little balcony, and a bright white bathroom is visible through a doorway. On one side of the room is a sitting area with a couch and an armchair that faces a desk with a massive computer monitor on it. A goldfish in a bowl sits on top of a mini fridge. Plastered all over the walls are Abercrombie & Fitch ads of muscular shirtless guys; a giant poster of Lady Gaga hangs over the bed.

“Roemi, what the hell?” says Paul as soon as we're in the room. “You didn't tell me I'd be driving.”

“Well, I can't do it,” says Roemi. “I don't even have my learner's permit. What's the big deal? Anyway, grab a seat,” he tells us. “I just have to figure out what to wear. There's soda and stuff in the fridge.” He rummages through piles of clothes and quickly comes up with a pair of jeans and a neon-green T-shirt. He goes into the bathroom and closes the door but comes back out again almost right away.

“Can't do it,” he says. “I look too good in this tux. I'm paying for it too, so I might as well get my money's worth. I'll just put sneakers on.”

I drop into Roemi's incredibly comfortable couch.

“I could get used to this, Roemi,” I say.

“Tell me about it,” says Paul.

It's kind of strange to be hanging out somewhere that isn't either my house or Bethanne's. It's even stranger for the four of us to be here together.

“Your parents seem really cool, Roemi,” I say.

“What do they do?” asks Candace.

“Dad's a family doctor and Mom's a shrink,” he says.

“Do they want you to be a doctor too?” asks Paul.

“No way,” says Roemi. “Only if I want to be, which I don't. Gross. As long as I find something I enjoy doing and work hard at it, they're pretty much cool with whatever.”

“Must be nice,” I say. “My mom has been pushing me to go into engineering since I was a kid.”

“Is that what you're going to do?” asks Paul.

“Probably,” I say. “It pays well, and I'm good at math and science.”

“Way to live your own life,” says Candace, who's sitting with her legs over the edge of the armchair.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Oh, come on,” she says. “You know what I mean. Sounds like your mom is part of the system, and you're just lining up like a sheep to do as you're told.”

“What system?” I ask her.

“You really don't have any idea, do you?” she says. “Let me guess. Your mom also wants you to go to the university in the city, so you can live at home and save money and she can keep you in her sights. You'll study really hard and get good marks and eventually you'll end up in some boring job that you hate, but you'll do it so you can make money to pay for a house just like the one you live in now. Then you'll have some kids and eventually they'll grow up and you'll push them out into the world to do the same thing.”

“Heavy,” says Roemi.

“You don't know anything about me,” I say, although she's kind of hit the nail right on the head.

“I don't need to know you,” she says. “Because I know plenty of people
like
you already. People who hear the word
graffiti
and immediately jump to conclusions, because they've been told what to think their whole lives.”

Paul looks really uncomfortable, as if he wants to be somewhere—anywhere—else. Roemi, on the other hand, is leaning forward in his chair as if he's front row center at the best show in town.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I say. “I didn't mean anything about the graffiti thing. I was just
asking
you why you wanted to do it. I wasn't trying to insult you.”

“It's not even that,” she says. “It's all the preconceptions. I can see it in your eyes, in the way that you talk about it. It's true, isn't it? You prefer to not think for yourself, so when you meet someone who's willing to break the rules, it makes you uncomfortable. It's not your fault. You've been conditioned that way.”

“I think for myself,” I say. “I broke out of my house, didn't I?”

“Oh, that's right,” she says. “And you've only mentioned going home about ten times in the last hour. Face it. You'd rather take orders from people, like your mom, or the cop who's been harassing me all night.”

“You mean the cop who's just doing his job?” I ask her.

“His job?” she says, her jaw dropping. “So it's his job to harass teenagers without good reason?”

“You were breaking the law,” I say.

“And why is it the law? What fucking difference does it make if I want to make public art? It's like we're living in a police state or something.”

“Public art? Give me a break,” I say. “Since when is vandalism art?”

“If you feel so strongly about it,” she says, “why don't you just make a citizen's arrest?”

“Ladies,” says Roemi. “Puh-leaze. Enough with the catfight. We have an adventure to go on.” He stands up. “Let's get out of here.”

My head is spinning, and I'm not sure what I did to make Candace hate me so much, but I don't want to stick around to find out.

“Sorry, Roemi,” I say. “I think I should probably go home now.”

Candace laughs. “Go ahead,” she says. “Prove my point for me. The minute someone shakes you out of your comfort zone, you're racing home to Mommy and some well-deserved punishment.”

“Don't leave, Andrea,” says Paul. “I can give you a ride home later.”

I don't even bother responding. I just grab my backpack and walk out of the room, hurry down the stairs and push through the heavy wooden door and out of Roemi's house.

PAUL

I don't know what made Candace go off on Andrea. It's true that Andrea plays by the rules, but it's not like the rest of us are big lawbreakers or anything.

“What was that about?” Roemi asks Candace after Andrea leaves.

“I don't want to fucking talk about it, okay?” she says. “I don't even know where I am. Can you drive me to my grandmother's house?” she asks me. “Please? One-five-five Highview Street.”

“If it's okay with Roemi,” I tell her.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says. “We should go back to the Ledge first though. We need to get the ladder back. Also your backpack.”

“Shit!” says Candace. “I forgot all about my pack. It's probably been stolen by now.”

“Doubt it,” says Roemi. “Andrea took great and delicate care in hiding it for you.” He tilts his head and stares at her, his eyes wide and innocent.

“What?” she snaps at him.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just thought you might like to know.”

“Can we just go?” she asks.

“Sure!” he says. He turns to me. “Isn't this fun?”

Roemi's parents' garage is nicer than my parents' living room. It has heated floors and shiny chrome overhead lights. It also has a gleaming new Land Cruiser and a goddamn Audi A4.

I walk slowly around the Audi, standing a few feet back so I don't drool all over it.

“Roemi, this is an Audi A4.”

“Oh yeah? Is that good?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “This is a supernice car.”

“Huh. Yeah, my dad loves that car. I don't like the color.” He grabs a set of keys from a hook on the wall, double-clicks them to unlock the Land Cruiser and tosses them at me. “I'm obviously shotgun,” he says to Candace.

Candace climbs into the backseat. “This is bigger than my bedroom,” she says. I stand at the SUV, my hand on the door handle, but I'm still staring back at the Audi. Roemi reaches over and opens the door from the inside.

“Come on, Paul! Let's go, dude!” he says.

Reluctantly I get behind the wheel and slide the keys into the ignition. Roemi reaches over and presses the garage-door opener on my sun visor. The door slowly rolls up, and Roemi jacks the volume on the stereo. “Let's roll, bitches,” he says.

The Cruiser is totally pimped out. Leather seats, wood veneer, a kickass stereo. But as sweet as this ride is, as we pull out of the garage I wonder if I'll ever have the chance to drive anything half as nice as the Audi.

It doesn't take long for Roemi and me to get the ladder and strap it to the roof rack. Roemi tells Candace where to find her pack, and she runs to the quarry to get it. She comes back just as I'm hooking the last bungee cord.

“I have an idea,” says Roemi. “We should cruise by the school and check out the last-minute rush into the dance. We're pretty close. Let's do a drive-by.”

I'm not sure I want to risk being seen by Lannie, but I can't very well say no, since it's his car.

Luckily, the crowd at the school is so involved with checking each other out that nobody takes a second glance at the Land Cruiser. I park across the street from the school and we watch through the tinted windows as girls run screaming to greet each other and smokers take their last drags before ditching their butts and walking onto the school property.

“Hey, Paul,” says Roemi. “There's the old ball and chain.”

Sure enough, there's Lannie, walking across the street in front of us, just a few car lengths away. I slouch down in my seat.

“Relax,” says Roemi. “Nobody can see us unless they get up really close to the window. She looks fierce.”

She really does look good, with her hair piled on top of her head and her dress hugging her body in all the right places. The funny thing is, I don't have any interest in being out there, walking into the dance with her. I'm happier here, hidden behind the tinted windows.

“Okay,” says Roemi, “I still don't really get this. So you and Lannie didn't break up, right?”

“No,” I say.

“But you aren't at prom with her, and she doesn't know that you're spending the night hanging with the Scooby-Doo crew?”

“No,” I say. “She thinks I'm sick.”

“I know you don't want to talk about it,” he says, “but I'm going to give this one more shot. Now that we're all besties, can you please just give us the Coles Notes version of
The Case of Lannie Freston's Missing Prom Date
? The curiosity is killing me.”

I glance in the rearview and see Candace raise an eyebrow at me. Suddenly it all just seems stupid and pointless.

“Fuck it, whatever,” I say. “I had a panic attack, okay? I had a panic attack last week for the first time in years, and then this morning I had another one, and it was so bad that I couldn't even think about going to the prom. So my mom called Lannie for me and told her I was sick, and that's why I'm not at the prom tonight.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” says Roemi. “Why didn't you tell Lannie? She's your girlfriend, after all. Wouldn't she understand?”

How can I explain that because Lannie is so
in
control, I'm terrified of letting her know I am so
out
of control? That if she finds out what's wrong with me, she'll see it as another challenge? She'll try to fix me, make me better.

Maybe I should let her. She's fixed everything else. My friends, my future, my grades, the way I look, the things I do in my spare time. Why shouldn't I let her fix this?

“Maybe he's not at the prom because he didn't want to go in the first place,” Candace says quietly. I look at her in the rearview mirror again, and she shrugs and looks me straight in the eye as if to say,
Isn't it true?

“Whoa, check it out,” says Roemi, pointing past me. I turn to see Ryan Penner walking away from the crowd in the parking lot and up onto the street where we're parked.

At first I think he might have spotted us. Then he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out what looks like a baggie, and I realize he's just sneaking away to smoke a joint before going inside.

Sure enough, we watch as he lights up and strolls directly toward the Cruiser. He stops with his back to my window and then begins to pace back and forth, furiously working through the joint.

“I don't think he sees us,” I say quietly.

“This is like a horror movie,” says Roemi. “Don't breathe or the homophobe will get us!”

“Who is that guy?” asks Candace.

“That's Paul's best friend,” says Roemi. I shoot him a dirty look.

Penner finishes the joint and crushes it out on the ground. Then he leans down to look in the window of the Cruiser, his face just inches from mine.

“Oh my god,” whispers Roemi. “I'm going to shit my pants!”

Penner brushes his fingers through his hair and straightens his tie. I slowly let out my breath. He's just using the window as a mirror. But then he leans in really close, and I watch as recognition rolls across his face. He taps on the window.

Reluctantly, I roll it down.

“What the fuck, man?” he says. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's obviously stoned and drunk. “Lannie told everyone your appendix burst and you're in the hospital.”