Twist (10 page)

“How can you be talking and walking and not know other things?” he asks.

“How can you not think before you speak, douche bag?” I say. And the words echo in my mind.
Douche bag. Douche bag
.

He grins.

I suck in my gut. I remember something but I can't fully grasp it.

Douche bags
.

“Oh no, Drake.” He sticks his finger in my face. “You called us that on your last day. That was about Bea.”

B. The letter B
.

“Hey,” Erica says as she bumps up against me.

Simon
frowns. “Get outta here,” he says to her.

“No, no,” I say.

She angles her body toward Simon and her eyes slant down. I'm waiting for her to slap him. Then she moves to me and it's like Glinda the Good Witch suddenly appears. “I was worried about you,” she says, all smiles and lightness.

And I just want to touch her. I grab her and she hugs me. Parts of me come alive—yikes! Our bodies are locked together as I squeeze her tighter. Over her shoulder Simon is signaling
no
. I ignore him and rub up against Erica in an impolite way. My hand swipes across her breast when we separate.

“You always were a tiger. Some things never change.” Then she whispers, “Meet me after school. I have my mom's car.”

I'm wondering if that's a good idea, and I think it shows on my face because she quickly says, “No strings attached, I promise.” And then she puts her tongue in my ear and I know I'm going to meet her later. I can't wait.

Simon pulls me away. “We're late.”

I wave at Erica.

“You don't like her anymore,” he says. “You have standards—or you used to? Besides, she's a bitch.”

Who cares, as long as she can ring my bell
.

“She's nice,” I say.

“Only when she wants something,” he says. “But you were really into that other chick . . . Bea.”

A
flash of a girl on top of me enters my mind, but that just makes my desire for Erica stronger.

“You two were hot after each other, remember? You went to the beach after lunch on your last day . . . didn't come back until after the last bell. Then you wouldn't shut up about her. Bea this . . . Bea that . . .”

We go into another classroom and I'm immediately surrounded. Guys are clapping me on the back. “Windell,” a wild kid says, as he hands me a baggie. “This one's on the house. Let's catch some waves later.”

“Windell?” I mumble as he's walking away.

“Yeah, man.” He backpedals and stands in front of me. “You used to call me Wind. Because when the heat was on, I always found wind.”

I finally figure out that Windell is his name. He spins his finger in a dance like move then walks to the back of the room with a goofy grin on his face.

Inside the baggie is a pinch of weed. And that makes me wonder about what Simon was asking. How do I know things, like what weed is, but I don't know about Luke?

The class is social studies, but it seems more like U.S. history, and I even know all of these obscure dates, but not Luke? Like Nevada became a state in 1864, and in 1876 there was an unclear presidential result, Rutherford Hayes eventually won. What about the lightbulb being developed in 1879—why do I need to know that?

After class I catch up to Simon and I ask him about it.

“You used to look at stuff and remember it when you needed to—that teacher makes everyone study timelines. You were smart,” he says.

“
I still am,” I mumble, and walk away without saying another word to him.

I go to the locker room and it takes me a few minutes to find Coach Hammond.

“Lucas Drake!” Coach Hammond yells. I can't take my eyes off his thick silver hair and rawhide skin. His handshake is forceful. “Good to see you, kiddo. Sars tells me you want to swim.” He's tall, and even though he's thin, his loud voice is bowling me over. I'm cautious. I blink a few times because I can smell spaghetti. He must have eaten lunch early. He's still gripping my hand as if we're wrestling or something. “Looks like you put on a few L. B.s.”

“L. B.s?” I ask, as I peel my hand away from his.

“Hmph. Pounds, my friend. Pounds.” He's staring at me over the top of his glasses now, examining me more closely. “Sars told me you've changed. Said he didn't know how to describe it.” I cringe, but it's apparently not obvious to him because he keeps talking. “How about timing you today in the pool?”

“Okay.”

When we line up for gym, the entire class grumbles, and one guy says, “I ain't getting my hair wet.”

“Shut your horse traps,” Coach Hammond yells. “We'll quit five minutes early for lunch if you do as I say.” He blows his whistle, and the guys get quiet.

After a few warm-up laps Coach Hammond puts me in the first lane and holds up his stopwatch. “Okay, Nemo, let's see what you've got. Ready?—

“GO!”

My face hits the water
and I'm home!
I breathe, stroke, stretch my body, and glide across the pool effortlessly. I feel my muscles go into overdrive and I feel like I have
turbojets
on my back. After four laps, I tap the pool's edge and the coach snaps his stopwatch. “Not bad, Drake, not bad.”

When the session is over, Coach Hammond follows me into the locker room. “How about practicing with the swim team? Slim you down, and . . . move forward.”

I get dressed and I'm leaving the locker room when the coach yells at me, “Tomorrow at three-twenty, after school. Be here Drake!”

Chapter
21

Simon's at the oak tree with two other guys and the kid with braces bigger than his mouth is gaping at me as I walk up to them.

“Murphy, Tate,” Simon says, “This is Lou. Not Luke. Not Lucas.”

I nod toward them and say to Simon, “Will you go to lunch with just me today?” All three of these guys look like total dorks. Simon shrugs.

As he walks away, Tate says, “Thanks for selling us out, Simon.”

Then Murphy adds, “Whatever—Louie Drake is a jerk.”

Simon walks toward the parking lot. “Let's go.” He's wearing boat shoes, slacks, and a striped T-shirt with a collar. His skin is pale, like he's never seen the outdoors.

“So I surfed, but I also hung out with you nerds?” I ask.

A pink splash shows up on Simon's cheeks and the back of his neck turns red. “What's wrong with you, Luke?”

I don't know what he means. “I'm just trying to understand,” I say.

“Listen, shithead, I've known you your whole life.” A vein pops out on his neck. “You're being a complete ass.”

“What? I'm calling it like I see it. And my name's Lou.”

“No it's not,” he says. “You're Luke Drake. Come on, I'll show you.” His car scrapes the street when he speeds out of the parking lot.

“Easy.” I grab the handle above the passenger door.

We
drive for about five minutes, not speaking. He stops in front of a taco joint. “We go to lunch here. We were here on your last day.”

“I don't know . . .”

“Yes,” he says. “We were.”

Then he pounds on the gas again, and as we speed away, he says, “I'm taking you to the pier.”

I can't stand this guy Simon. “When did we meet? How old were we?” I ask.

“Little,” he says. “Our moms are friends.” He makes a big show out of taking me to where I park his car when I'm with girls, and goes on and on about how this last girl is the only one I wouldn't shut up about.

“How do you know this?” I ask him.

“Because you tell me everything.”

I can't even imagine telling this guy anything. I hate him. Nothing seems familiar about anything he's showing me. It's like he's making it up as he goes.

“How long was I seeing this Beatrice girl?”

He gets a smirk on his face. “Oh, this one was a long-term relationship.” He raises his eyebrows. “You met her the night before . . . your last day.”

“Stop calling it my last day.”

“Apparently that was your last day—as Luke!” he yells and spit lands on the windshield.

“Did I go here with Erica?”

“Such an ass,” he says. “I already warned you about her. But you can find out the hard way.”

“
Tell me?” I say.

“Why? You won't listen, Lou.”

“Whatever,” I say, and we drive back to school without saying another word. He slams his car door and we part ways.

I go to my next class, study hall. I sit next to a guy in a leather jacket and a girl with a ring in her nose. She says, “So you don't want to go by Luke anymore?”

“Luke is dead,” I say.

“Cool,” she whispers. She's got a tattoo inside her wrist.

“What's that mean?” I ask.

“Freedom,” she says. “Birds flying free.” She looks at the guy in the leather jacket, then back at me. “Wanna get high with us?”

“No,” I say. “Did I do that, before?”

She wrinkles her nose. “I don't know. We haven't talked since the fifth grade. I'm Isabella.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don't be. I'm the antisocial one.” She squeezes my arm and giggles. “You've always been nice. Sorry you got the shit kicked out of you.”

And then she looks at her friend and he says, “Lou, did you see the video?”

“Video?”

The guy leans in and whispers, “Somebody posted a video of you with that skinny chick. Totally hot, getting it on, that very night. Within a few hours, zappo—removed from the site.”

“Where?” I ask.

“
Doesn't matter now. You won't find it. Totally removed,” he says. He gets up and walks away from the table.

“See you later,” the girl with the ring in her nose says as she grabs that guy's hand and they walk out the door. The teacher doesn't even stop them.

“What are you doing?”

I turn around to see silver mouth standing behind me.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “You're Tate, right?”

“Yes,” he says. “Why are you sitting with stoners?”

“None of your business.” I spin my chair around so I don't have to look at his silver-spoon mouth, and then I act like I'm reading. I don't want to talk to this dork. He stands there for a few minutes and then he goes away. When study hall is over, I have one more class, and the longest day of my life will be done. Again, I sit through a class that I pay no attention to and on some level Luke is mad about that. But eventually the clock is on my side and the school day is over!

Chapter
22

I run toward the parking lot, because Lou apparently has no conscience. He's a pessimist. And he's driven to get his rocks off. That's who I am, right now. I am Lou, the pessimist.

I find the blonde, Erica, at her car. She smiles when she sees me. I touch her waist, and open the car door. We get in the backseat. She wants to kiss on me, so I let her. When she adjusts her position, the back of her hand touches my crotch and she smirks at me.

My body says yes, but my mind is flashing a huge stop sign and I get this grinding feeling in my spine. I think Luke is trying to chime in, too, because I hear, inside this crazy brain of mine, ‘
No, no, put the brakes on, Luke!'

I grab hold of her fingers. “Wait, this doesn't feel right.”

She twists her lips sideways and then moves in toward my neck. I put my hands on her shoulders and say, “Didn't we ever talk first?”

Her breast brushes across my arm as she puts her hand on my chest. “We've always had this chemistry. We tear off our clothes and talk later.”

I'm overcome with fuzziness, like a brain drain that I can't shake. I rub my temples and she starts tugging on my pants. She doesn't notice that I am not into her. The girl just keeps pulling on my clothes. I gently push her away. A sharp pain flashes through my head so I close my eyes and groan. I am weak all over.

But she must think I'm excited, because now she pulls my zipper down and before I can stop her she's touching me and my body responds. I feel like crap and she's
only
adding to my disgust. Suddenly, her touch is causing this sensation of jagged shards poking at me from the inside. I realize she's got me pinned and her arms are around my waist and her mouth is on me.

I push at her. “Get off of me!”

She grabs hold of me tighter and an image suddenly fills my head. Brown hair, blue eyes, and everything inside of me tingles. I know it is Beatrice Malcolm.

“Stop!” I shove Erica away. I am freaking, because my body just betrayed me.

She laughs and wipes her mouth. “Too late, Lou.”

My head's swimming. I zip up my pants. “I shouldn't have met you here.”

Erica uses a small mirror to put on lipstick. “You and me. It's like old times, Lou. You want a ride home?”

Simon was right. I push open the door and the second my feet hit the cement, I run. “Where are you going?” she yells after me.

Dad is standing in front of the school with his hands in his jacket pockets. I'm out of breath when I approach. He looks at his watch.

“Sorry,” I say.

“You look a little flushed. Everything okay?”

I pant for a few seconds, and in between gasps I say, “I remember B.”

Chapter
23

A woman opens the door and says, “Luke, you look so good.” She steps out on the porch and hugs me. Then she hugs Dad.

“Thank you, Charlotte,” Dad says. “For seeing us on short notice.”

“Come inside,” she says. “George is on his way home.”

We sit at the dining room table and her pointy red nails poke at the placemat while she talks. “How are you doing, Kyle? We haven't seen you much since the accident.”