Winger (38 page)

“Something’s not right,” I said.

“You worry too much, Winger.”

We loaded the suitcases into Kevin’s car, and I walked over to Annie’s door. I hugged her, and we kissed before she got in.

“I’m going to miss you,” I whispered. “I love you.”

She looked like she was about to cry, and in a weird way that made me feel really good.

I closed her door, and Kevin started the car.

He said, “Tell Joey to call my house when he shows up. He’ll be back today. I know Joey. Just watch.”

“Okay,” I said. “Well, I’m going to check with the office again.”

“It’s going to be okay, Ryan Dean. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

I looked back at Annie and said, “Bye. See you, Kevin. Megan.”

And I stood there beside Joey’s car and watched them drive away.

IT WASN’T OKAY.

The police came before the end of lunch. I was summoned to the headmaster’s office. I had to tell them about seeing Joey when he left the dance, and how he looked upset but he wouldn’t say why, and who the guys were from O-Hall that went along with us.

The officers listened.

They wrote it all down.

But I didn’t tell them everything. How could I tell them
everything
?

At first, the policeman who talked to me seemed kind of nice and concerned about Joey. And he knew about how Joey had run away before. He told me that if Joey didn’t show up, they were going to search the campus and the woods in the morning.

Then the officer who interviewed me asked if I knew Joey was gay. And when I told him yes, he asked flat out if I was gay, or if I knew if Joey had a “lover” or not, and that just pissed me off so bad, I wanted to cuss, but I didn’t.

I shut up.

I told him he should go talk to someone else.

Stupid fucking bastard.

JOEY NEVER SHOWED UP.

Something was wrong, and I knew it. I could feel it jangling my nerves like the sound of the empty whiskey bottle I’d kicked when I walked the hallway in the dark the night before.

I got back to O-Hall at about four o’clock that afternoon.

The place was quiet and empty, which was typical for a Friday afternoon. Downstairs, everything had been cleaned up from the night before. But I was still sick from that lingering feeling you just can’t shake after waking up from a terrible nightmare—remembering the muddy shoeprints, the water on the floor, the shower running in the bathroom, and those weird sounds I’d heard coming from the woods.

But it wasn’t a dream. Kevin Cantrell knew that. He knew enough about O-Hall and the boys we lived with, though, so it was no big deal to Kevin.

I could not make it not a big deal.

I was stressed out and in a bad mood from everything that had happened; and I wished I didn’t feel so alone, that Annie could be there with me.

As I passed by the downstairs hall door, I decided to go for a run before dinner.

I froze when I saw Mrs. Singer watching me from the other side of the door. I wasn’t about to open it, but somehow, she didn’t scare
me as much as she used to. I still wouldn’t look at her face, though.

I just watched the doorknob and listened to see if she was going to come out.

She didn’t.

I went up to my room and changed out of my clothes and into my running things.

I didn’t go all the way up to Buzzard’s Roost. It was getting too dark, and I had to turn back. But I stopped at Stonehenge and sat down for a while on that same fallen tree where I’d sat so many times with Annie Altman.

I missed her so much. Even though she’d only been gone for a few hours, it felt like I’d never see her again.

I walked the wishing circle.

That night, Chas and I watched television with Mr. Farrow. Awkward. It was like sitting in a sauna naked together. We were the only ones left in O-Hall, but we didn’t say anything to him, or to each other. I could tell Mr. Farrow was uncomfortable around me, though, and I probably would have thought it was funnier if I could only get rid of the creepy feeling that I hadn’t been able to shake since the day before.

So, later, when we were lying in bed, I was so frustrated and sick of the silence that I actually broke down and started talking to Chas Becker.

“So, did you break up with Megan, or was it the other way around?”

I heard Chas exhale and roll over.

He didn’t say anything for about a minute, and then, finally, “Why do you fucking care?”

“ ’Cause I can’t stand how quiet it’s been.”

“She broke up with me. So, go for it, little Pussboy.”

“I already told you about that, Chas,” I said. “I’m sorry. Me and Megan aren’t doing anything.” I folded my hands behind my head and sighed. “Did the cops come and talk to you?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

Chas grunted. “What could I say? That we drink booze and play poker and do crazy shit? That maybe Joey’s just doing some stupid consequence or something? I don’t know anything about Joey. He just ran away.”

“Yeah. I hope he’s okay. I hope he comes back.”

“I always thought you guys seemed a little gay for each other,” Chas said.

I wanted to say, ask your girlfriend how gay I am, Betch, but I’d had enough fighting for a while.

“You’re an . . .” But I stopped myself because I didn’t want to cuss at him. “That’s messed up, Chas. Can’t Joey have any friends without it being about that? Aren’t you his friend too?”

“Me?” Chas said. “I don’t have any fucking friends.”

Go figure.

At least he was smart enough to know that much.

Chas Becker really was a genius, when it came to knowing how pathetic he was.

I WOKE UP AT SEVEN.

When I climbed down from the top bunk, Chas rolled over and said, “What the fuck? It’s Saturday, dipshit.”

I wanted to kick him in the head so bad.

“I know. I just don’t want to stay in bed.”

Chas rolled toward the wall and put the pillow over his face.

I pulled on my warm-ups and slipped my feet into my running shoes.

I went outside into a cold drizzle. It felt like it was going to snow, and the clouds hung down so low and white that I couldn’t even see the tops of the trees around me. It looked like there was a pillow over the face of the world.

I headed for the mess hall.

Weekends were kind of fend-for-yourself eating arrangements at Pine Mountain. There was always plenty of self-contained microwaveable stuff left in the coolers for the kids who stayed, but there was no real food at PM, and there were no people to serve it, either.

But before I got to eat my breakfast, I saw what looked like about a hundred police officers, park rangers, and school staff, all gathered around the front gates to the school.

Now they were really looking for Joey.

I went back to O-Hall.

Chas Becker was not pleased when I pulled the covers off his face and actually touched his bare arm, shaking him.

“Wake up, Chas.”

“You are a total fag, Pusswing. You do realize you are touching me. Right?”

“They’re doing a search for Joey. In the woods. Get your fucking ass out of bed, and let’s help look for our captain.”

I fought the urge to shut my eyes. I guessed it would hurt just as bad if Chas knocked my teeth in, whether I watched him do it or not.

But he just took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes, and sat up.

When he put his bare feet down on the floor, he looked around our room in the foggy light and said, “It’s fucking cold.”

“Yeah.”

He held his hand out so I could help pull him to his feet.

Chas stripped and got into some thermals and sweats, gloves, and a hat. He looked like he was ready to go snowshoeing, and I have to admit I wished I had more layers on too.

At least I’d stuffed a couple microwave breakfast sandwiches into my pockets. They were still warm, so I kind of hated giving one up for Chas when we stepped outside and into the drizzle.

They tasted nasty, but Chas thanked me for bringing him breakfast in bed, even if, according to his understanding of the universe, it only proved how much of a homo I was.

We knew the places to look, anyway.

There was a big drainage culvert halfway between O-Hall and the highway to Bannock. It was where O-Hall boys sometimes went to smoke weed or cigarettes with their friends, or, if they were alone, to jerk off to some nasty old porn mags everyone seemed to leave there.

Nobody was there.

Chas took a piss against the side of the drainpipe and asked if I had any cigarettes or chew.

I shook my head.

He said, “Yeah. I didn’t think so.”

“You really think I’m a pussy, don’t you?”

Chas stared at me, unblinking, like a rhino or something equally terrifying, standing three feet away from me while he tucked his dick back inside his thermals, and said, “Fuck. You? You’re about the most unpussy sack of shit winger I’ve ever seen on a rugby pitch in my fucking life. I think half your scrawny-ass weight must be taken up by balls. Winger.”

I nodded.

I wished I had a cigarette to give him after that.