The Party (15 page)

Summer had come to an end. Feeling the chill of the nighttime air as he huddled his shoulders beneath the warm water and fluffy bubbles, Michael felt autumn inside. He always mourned the summer’s passing and instantly began waiting for it to return. Somehow, this year, he could tell, it was going to be a long wait. He continued to think of Jessica and Bill together on the couch.

“Marco!” Bubba called, paddling through a bank of foam in the deep end, his eyes tightly clenched, playing the blind man in the oldest pool game ever invented.

“Polo!” three dozen people replied. Marco Polo in a pool as crowded as this was a joke. You just had to launch yourself in practically any direction and you were bound to tag somebody. Naturally, Bubba had been it for the last twenty minutes. Michael suspected he was slyly opening his eyes so he could stay it until he could accidentally rip the top off a girl of his own choosing.

“Marco!”

Maria and Nick swam to Michael’s side. “You two look like you’re having fun,” he said.

“The water feels great after working all day,” Nick agreed.

“I think we should get out,” Maria said, glancing toward the diving board where several of the football players had gathered to taunt Bubba into coming their way.

“You might,” Michael said.

Nick shook his head. “I feel just fine where I am. Anyway, what can they do to me in front of all these people?”

“They could drown you,” Maria said unhappily.

The boys on the team did not try to drown Nick. But they did pull a rather unpleasant stunt. Much to Bubba’s obvious displeasure, he bumped into The Rock, and was no longer
it
. As the center of attention, The Rock, with supposedly closed eyes, wasted no time in heading straight for Nick, who made the mistake Of moving away from the side of the pool. Several guys on the team suddenly popped to the surface behind Nick. He saw them at the same time Michael did. It did neither of them any good. One grabbed Nick’s right arm, the other his left. His head got pushed under and The Rock went diving.

They all reappeared a few seconds later, with Nick thrashing wildly and The Rock laughing heartily. The Rock had torn off Nick’s trunks.

“Come get me, boy,” he taunted, moving into the shallow end where Nick would have to stay low—
real
low—if he didn’t want to be the talk of the school on Monday. Yet Michael felt more afraid for The Rock than he did for his friend. The guys who had pinned Nick’s arms seemed to have reassessed Nick’s strength in the short time they’d had ahold of him. They backed off, gingerly rubbing their sides, as the other guys on the team watched from a respectful distance. For the moment Nick had The Rock to himself, and Michael could not have imagined such fury in Nick’s face. It was out of a similar expression the many ugly rumors concerning his deadly rage must have sprung.

But Nick couldn’t move, except on his knees. Bubba clearly recognized the problem, and Bubba loved to watch a good fight.

“Hey, Nick!” he called from the deep end, his hands out of sight beneath the water and bubbles. “Take these!”

He didn’t toss him a sword or a knife. Bubba threw Nick a pair of trunks—
his
own shorts. Nick caught them, put them on. The Rock backed into the side of the shallow end, stopped his taunting. Nowhere to go.

“Hey,” he said.

Nick launched himself at The Rock, who had decided a fraction of a second too late that the water was not a safe place to be. Nick caught The Rock by the right arm and the back of the neck just as The Rock put one foot on the deck. The Rock started a cry that ended in a strangled gargle. Nick had shoved him under. The festive atmosphere hushed into a tense silence. It was a struggle for Nick—The Rock’s feet and hands kept thrashing to the surface—but it was clear he could hold his prey’s head under as long as he pleased.

“Stop!” Maria cried.

“No,” Nick said.

“You’ll kill him!” she pleaded.

“Yeah!” Bubba cheered.

Nick smiled grimly, tightening his grip. “Not yet.”

Maria dived toward Nick and pounded him on the back. Let him go now!”

Nick looked at her strangely for a moment. Then he held his hands up, as if he were displaying his innocence. The Rock broke the surface, his choking gasps material for pity. He lay bent over the steps, sobbing in recovery.

“We can’t do this,” Maria said wearily. She could have been talking about more than The Rock’s dunking.

“He started it,” Nick protested. Maria shook her head sadly. To her, it didn’t matter.

Michael watched the next few minutes with a calm fascination. To a casual spectator, the hostilities appeared to be over. The usual chatter resumed across the pool. Yet Michael knew they had merely passed into the eye of the hurricane. Worried about Maria’s feeling, Nick paid little heed to the movement of people around him. The Rock was making a swift recovery. He had moved from the steps and now was sitting on the side near the diving board. One by one, his teammates, including Bill Skater, swam to his dangling feet, conferring with him.

“Nick,” Michael said. “Nick.”

His friend didn’t hear, preoccupied as he was with convincing Maria that he hadn’t intended to drown the fat slob. Perhaps it didn’t matter, Michael thought. Help was on the way. Seconds before The Rock jumped Nick, Alice had been testing the pool’s chlorine level. When they had a lot of people m the water, Alice had said, the level could drop rapidly. When The Rock had attacked Nick, Alice had dashed into the house, the pail of powdered chlorine in her hand Now she reappeared with her sister holding the chlorine, just as The Rock reentered the water with eleven backups—and began to swim toward Nick.

“Nick!” Michael shouted.

He said violence follows him, no matter where he goes. In the streets, the weight room, the store, the pool… Could he be right?

It didn’t take long for a person, or a dozen for that matter, to swim the length of the pool. It took Polly about the same interval to stride from her back door to the steps of the pool. When Nick finally did look up, he found himself surrounded by friends and foes alike.

“Get out of the water, all of you,” Polly said.

“Sure,” The Rock said, a purple welt swelling beneath his left eye. “After we take care of business.”

Nick flexed his shoulders, the water reaching to his waist, shooing a terrified Maria aside. “Don’t keep me waiting,” he said to The Rock.

“My man!” Bubba shouted, off in the corner with Clair. He would be pulling off the bottom of her red bikini next and offering it to Bill. Tabb’s quarterback, another upstanding member of the lynch gang, waited expressionless by The Rock’s side. Michael edged toward Nick. If he had to fight to save his pal, he decided it wouldn’t be bad to get in a stiff kick to Bill’s crotch.

After all, the guy stole my girl.

What a laugh. He would probably get his head smashed in, and yet, he was pleasantly surprised to discover he wasn’t afraid.

“You better pray you were born with gills, boy,” The Rock said, glancing around to assure himself of his support. Nick did not move, but Michael could literally see the dark strength coiling in his muscles.

“No!” Maria cried.

“Get off my property!” Polly shouted at The Rock, jumping onto the first step, the water drenching the bottom of her black pants. She stuck a hand into the pail of chlorine. “Get!”

“Bug off,” The Rock said, raising his fist, intent on Nick.

Polly threw the handful of chlorine in his face. Unfortunately for The Rock, he was soaked. The white powder dissolved instantly. The Rock let out a scream, his hands flying to his eyes. Michael grimaced. Chlorine solution could eat out eyes in seconds.

“Put your head under the water!” Michael said. Get his head under!”

Bill tried to do just that. The Rock jabbed an elbow into Bill’s jaw.
Don’t you touch me.
Understandably, The Rock was not crazy about having someone submerge him again. He just kept screaming.

“My eyes! My eyes!”

Michael dived forward, grabbed The Rock’s wrists. “Go under water—now—and blink your eyes or go blind!” he yelled in his ear. The Rock nodded once, thrust his head beneath the surface. He came up a few seconds later.

“My eyes!”

“More,” Michael ordered, pushing him down.

“Stay under a whole minute. Flush them out.”

While he was submerged this time, Polly muttered something under her breath, dropped the pail on the ground, and strode back into the house. The others waited quietly. Alice entered the water to stand beside Michael. Finally The Rock reappeared.

“How are they?” Michael asked. “Let me see.”

“They sting. They hurt.”

And they were a nasty red. “But you can see,” Michael said. “Go inside, into the bathroom, and take a shower. Let the cold water run straight into them for a few minutes, but not too hard. Keep your hands drive you to the hospital.” Michael patted him on the back. “Go ahead, you’re going to be all right.”

The Rock did not look at Nick as he left. Maybe it hurt too much. The boys on the team dispersed. It seemed to be over, for the time being.

The night deepened. The suds began to vanish. In groups of twos and threes, people got out of the water. Bubba finally gave up his carousing with Clair and consented to wear a towel on the walk to the house. And Nick and Maria were long gone when Michael began to slowly swim laps, on his back, staring at the black sky, wondering if Jessica was inside with Bill hearing about how the tall black dude had tried to kill The Rock for a second time.

Michael was alone with Alice and she was flying through space, like an acrobat, maybe an angel, in her white bathing suit and shining yellow hair, performing dive after dive.

“Watch this one!” she called, jumping onto the board again.

Michael rolled onto his side. Lithe but coordinated, Alice stepped forward, pounced the board’s tip, soared upward, gracefully spinning through two and a half somersaults. She disappeared headfirst into the water with the faintest splash. Michael waited for her to resurface, ready to applaud her effort.
One… two… three…
Time passed so slowly when someone went under and didn’t come up.

“Alice?” he said.

“Eeeh!” She laughed, popping up behind him, throwing her arms around his neck."Scared you?”

“Yeah, fish brain.” He grabbed her and threw her over his head as if she were made of air.

They got out awhile later. From the positions of the stars, Michael knew it must be near midnight. The music continued inside but at a lower volume. No one seemed to be dancing. He could hear few people talking. Handing him a towel, Alice led him around the side of the house to the spot where she had been painting last week. They’d set up a couple of barbecues earlier that needed extinguishing, she explained.

“Do you think Polly damaged that boy’s eyes?” she asked, slowly raking the smoldering coals with a black metal stick. She didn’t have what most people would call striking features, but at that moment, the burning orange light warm on her young face, she was, to Michael, a child of beauty.

“No. Very little of the chlorine got in his eyes. He’s a baby, cries a lot. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

Alice smiled, not like an angel really, more like a mischievous devil. “I told you I wanted to talk to you. Do you know what about?”

“What?”

“Jessie.”

“Oh?”

Alice stopped, watching him over the heat radiating from the flaked charcoal. The front of his body was burning, but goose flesh was forming on his back from a breeze that had begun to blow out of the east. He hugged his towel tighter. The tall silhouette of a two armed cactus stood behind Alice in the garden like a prickly ghost.

“You knew she was the one I told you about,” she said.

“Not at first. Not until the football game.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, after Hurt?” There was no accusation in her voice, simply curiosity. “Why didn’t you tell her when you found out we were going out?” he said.

Alice nodded, as if to say well answered. “Neither of us told her. What a coincidence. Or do you think the decision passed unspoken between us?” Before he could respond, she continued, “Yeah, I think so. But I was still disappointed I didn’t get to introduce you two, that you found each other without me.”

“Why?”

Alice returned to scattering the ashes. “Jessie’s always taken care of me. When my parents died, and Polly was in the hospital, she became like another sister to me. No, more like a new mom. I don’t think I would have survived without her. And then, when I met you at Christmas, I felt like I had found—Does this sound corny?”

“Not at all, Alice.”

She smiled shyly. “I love you, Michael. You know that. You’ve always been like the other half for me. Jessie and you—I had this dream for a long time. I was saving each of you for the other, for the right time. Then when our schools got put together, I knew that time had come. Do you understand what I mean? Maybe it was selfish, but I thought that you would come together through me, and then—then it would be beautiful.” Alice stopped. “You love her, don’t you?”

“I hardly know her.”

“But you still love her. I can see that. Don’t worry, no one else can. I knew you’d love her.” She lowered her head, suddenly frowned. “I hope everything will be all right.”

He chuckled. “Everything’s going to be fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” He was glad she had not asked him to verify the truth of her statement. Her certainty, her insight, intrigued him, frightened him. She didn’t even care how their date had gone. It was immaterial to her, or rather, it was simply material, and she was talking about something bordering on a spiritual bond. She stood on an edge where she could see in directions others couldn’t. He’d known that from their first meeting, and it had drawn him to her. But how fine an edge? He worried for her.

“Because I wasn’t there,” she said, vaguely confused. “And in my dream, I was always there.”

“When Jessie and I met?”

“Yes.” She shook herself. “I probably dream too much. That’s what my doctor says.” She glanced up to the dimly lit second story window above them. “That used to be my parents’ bedroom. Polly cleaned it out a few years ago. Gave away all the furniture.”

“You must miss them a lot.”

She laughed suddenly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t! When I’m awake, I have you two wonderful friends, and then, when I sleep, I walk in the forest with my mom and dad. I honestly do.” A spark flared between them, distracting her. She wrinkled her nose at the black and burning cinders. “This is something Clark would paint. Looks like hell. But then, he’s a weird guy.” She set aside her stick and slowly moved her hand inches above the center of the barbecue.

“Careful, you’ll burn yourself.”

“I’m wet, I can’t get hurt.”

He had doubts about that. He wished she would stop. Who was this doctor she had mentioned? “Tell me about your dreams?”

She nodded at his question. “I bet you dream, too.”

“I do.”

“I knew it. I’ll have to show mine. We can compare them. I’m going to finish my painting tonight.”

“Tonight? You should go to bed.”

She took her hand back. If she had burned it, she would never show it. He pushed aside his concern. She was sensitive—true, but also strong. “I’m not tired,” she said. She glanced up at the window again. “I better go in. This charcoal can burn itself out. I just remembered, I promised Polly I’d get out some paper cups.”

“But practically everyone’s left.”

She stepped around the barbecue, took his hand in her warm one, and led him toward the back door. “With Polly, it doesn’t matter.” She laughed. “Let’s finish our talk later.”