Save Steve

by Jenni Hendriks

  “I think the slide makes Cam nervous,” Steve snarked.

  “Well, let me at least hit the jets in the hot tub.” He then patted Kaia on the shoulder and continued, “Towel warmer is fired up and the mini fridge is stocked. Need anything else? Snacks?”

  “Actually, I’m jonesin’ for some In-N-Out.” Steve rubbed his stomach like a hungry five-year-old.

  “Yes! Look at my boy’s appetite. Those drugs aren’t stopping you.” His dad clapped his hands together. “Animal Style Double-Doubles coming up for everyone.”

  He was already rushing back to the house and then, I don’t know why—I certainly wasn’t hoping to be here when he got back—but still, like a reflex I couldn’t control, I explained, “Oh, I don’t eat meat.”

  I heard an actual “skrtt.” Steve’s dad spun on his heel and glared at me with as much disdain as he could muster. After a weighty silence, he spat, “My son has cancer and you don’t eat meat? What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

  “Um . . .” I shrank. Why was I so stupid?

  He took a few steps until he was too close to me. The muscle in his square jaw flinched and a vein in his neck swelled. “You’ll eat the meat.”

  Before he could deck me and toss me into an incinerator, I nodded and mouthed, “I’ll eat the meat.”

  He pumped his fist and flipped a switch right back to extremely upbeat. “Whoooo! Okay then. The Stevenson boys’ cancer-cation continues! Be right back.” With a hop in his step, he was gone.

  “Cancer-cation”? Did he think this was some sort of vacation for Steve? An excuse for Steve to skip school and have a nonstop pool party? I knew parents who thought kids were under too much pressure these days, but this was ridiculous.

  “Where were we?” Steve pushed himself off the edge of the pool and spun on his raft lazily. “Oh yeah. You can shove your sad cancer-boy poster up your meat-free ass, Cam. I don’t need it.”

  This seemed like my cue. “I can just go—”

  But Kaia stopped the inflatable shark mid-spin with her foot and glared at Steve. “Stop being a dick.” To my shock, he didn’t tell her to “calm down” or “have a sense of humor.” Instead, he kind of withered as she continued, “Cam worked really hard on that and he didn’t have to.”

  “I—” He tried to stop her, then faltered. He actually seemed a little afraid of her.

  “And this isn’t all about you. Maybe your dad thinks you’re on spring break, but your mom’s having a hard time. They need the help. So cut the macho bullshit and accept a little generosity.” And while Steve shriveled under Kaia’s scolding, I swelled up. If there was a streaming service that only showed Kaia chewing out Steve, I’d be the first subscriber.

  “I’m sorry,” Steve mewed.

  Having decapitated Steve’s objections, Kaia softened. “Come on, honey. Nobody’s saying you’re a sad cancer boy. We just want to help you and your family, okay?” The one-two punch of Kaia’s anger and her sweetness left Steve dumbstruck. He just nodded and looked down.

  “You won’t have to do anything,” I assured him, and hoped this would be the last time we’d all have to be together.

  But Steve reengaged his laser beams at me and I figured I should just shut up. Kaia was doing a good job all by herself. “I feel so helpless. Just let me do something. Please . . . ,” she pleaded sweetly, and flashed her big eyes at him.

  And that did it.

  “Ugh! Fine. But I don’t want a pity party.”

  She leaned over and hugged him. “No pity party. I promise.”

  “Make it fun.”

  “Definitely.” She kissed him and I looked away. I was suddenly very aware of my third-wheel status.

  He whispered in her ear loud enough so that I could hear, “You left your suit here last time. Wanna join me?”

  “Sure, baby,” she said, and ran her fingers down his arm.

  I had to get out of here.

  But then she bounced up and turned to me. “You gonna come in?”

  “Wha . . . No . . . I’m good.” I was not going to be the weird guy in the pool while Kaia and Steve made out.

  “Well, show Steve the website while I get changed,” she suggested.

  “Oh, there’s a website!” Steve sang, a little too excited.

  “Uh . . . yeah . . .” I wanted to fling my laptop into the pool rather than show him the stupid website.

  “You’re gonna love it, Steve,” Kaia said, and skipped toward the house. “I’ll be right back.”

  She opened and closed the moving window wall and Steve and I were suddenly left alone.

  Avoiding eye contact, I slung my backpack onto the patio table and unzipped it so fast I almost broke the pull. I could hear Steve climbing ominously out of the pool. I yanked out my laptop and flipped it open with shaking hands. The splat splat splat of his feet approached. I mistyped my password four times but finally logged in and brought up the Save Steve site. “I could put it up on the TV if you want,” I offered. I could feel him at my back. Drip drip dripping.

  “Wow, dick move, Cam.”

  Wham! He slammed my laptop closed.

  “Trying to steal a cancer guy’s girlfriend?” His breath was hot on the back of my neck.

  I had a vision of him strangling me with the hose from the pool sweeper. Quickly, I spun around. “What? No! That’s not what this is. Kaia and I are just friends. That thing at the party was just a misundersta—”

  “Relax.” Steve smiled. Still, I stepped back a safe distance. “You really think I’m worried Kaia’s going to dump me for a bottom feeder with a shitty website?”

  “You don’t like the website?” I asked.

  Steve laughed and flashed his teeth. “Look, I’m stuck at home for, like, the rest of the school year and I’m already burned out on Grand Theft Auto.” He swiveled my laptop toward him and began digging around. A wave of fear crawled up my back. “So, you know what?” Steve’s finger slid around my trackpad. “Do your best. Steal Kaia.” Then he stood back from my laptop, revealing a crude drawing of what I guess was me having a giant erection with Kaia’s name written on it.

  I ignored it. Because I went high. “My best is raising money to pay your medical bills. Because that’s all this is. I’m just trying to help, Steve. Trust me. I’m a good guy. And you have cancer.”

  “I do?!” Steve asked, and then assumed a wide-eyed soap opera startle as if he’d just been given the news. “Oh no . . . not cancer!” He grabbed his chest and then his crotch, gasped, and then collapsed on a lounge chair. The water from the pool lapped in the background as he lay there motionless with his tongue splayed out. I didn’t move.

  He flicked open his eyes and gave a bored sigh. “It’s only a little baby cancer.” He sat up, shook water from his ear, and walked back to the pool. “I’ve had worse colds.”

  I still couldn’t believe how casual he was being. Most people said cancer in a whisper, because they were so afraid of the word. Steve just kicked it around like a hacky sack. “Aren’t you a little worried?” I asked, hoping to find the human beneath.

  “Nope.” He popped the p and hopped back onto his raft. A Steve-sized wave spread across the pool, smacking the edges. “But I am bored. And crushing you is just the entertainment I need. So, go for it, friend zone.” With one hand, he pushed at the water and his raft spun in circles. With his arms spread wide, he pretended he was adrift at sea and called out, “Save me.”

  The moving glass wall slid open and Kaia sprang out. “I call the Pfister 811!” I hoped that was a car in the game and not a sex position. She closed the wall, ran past me, and jumped into the pool. She climbed onto the shark and slipped next to Steve. He handed her a controller and slung his arm around her. With a sly grin back at me, he said, “This is gonna be fun.”

  9

  Buzz. Buzz. I buried my head under my pillow, not quite ready to face Monday. Buzz. With a groan, I rolled over, sliding the pillow off my face and blinking in the hazy morning sunlight. Buzz. What the heck? I
fumbled for my phone, finally registering that it wasn’t my alarm waking me up. Someone was texting me. I blinked a few times, clearing my eyes as I looked at my screen, then sat up. The pillow flumped to the floor.

  Fifteen texts from Kaia.

  Fifteen. Texts. From. Kaia.

  Fifteen.

  One. Five.

  Holy crap. She’d been thinking about me for fifteen texts. I couldn’t stop smiling as I read the last one.

  Kaia: You don’t have to do this.

  She could already see what a selfless, great guy I was. My worries about Steve and his promise faded to nothing. This was worth it. Brushing my hair from my eyes, I quickly thumbed a response.

  Me: I know. But when I think of what Steve’s going through, I have to do something.

  Sent. God, that sounded good. I waited for her response, watching the three little dots on the corner of the screen. Would it be a smiley face? Another heart? I hoped it was a heart.

  Kaia: Yeah. But a diaper?

  A diaper? What was she . . . ? I scrolled back through the texts, my heart pounding now for a totally different reason. Words flashed by: Wow. Unexpected. Didn’t seem like you. Kinda worried. Are you sure?

  No. This was not real.

  Leaping out of bed, I scrambled to my desk and flipped open my laptop, typing in the Save Steve address as soon as it flickered to life. On the main page there was a new banner.

  “To kick off awareness for the Save Steve campaign, I, Cam Webber, will wear an adult diaper to school.” I read it out loud just to make sure I was really seeing this. Below the text there was a stock image of Depends with a hand-drawn arrow and the words, Yep. My butt. In these. And a smiley face.

  I slammed the laptop close. Steve. I paced, running my hands through my hair. How did he . . . ?

  Of course. Back at the pool. Steve was leaning over me when I typed in the password to the site. He must have memorized it. I flipped open the computer again and tried to log in to the administrator site. A line of red text appeared, telling me my password was wrong. I clicked “Forgot Password” and typed in my email.

  This email is not recognized.

  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuccccckkkkkkkkk.

  I slammed the laptop closed again. It was fine. No one had seen the site yet. We hadn’t officially launched. Maybe some people who had seen the posters had visited the site and seen the banner, but they probably didn’t go to the school. I could just ignore it. No way was I going to school in a diaper.

  My phone buzzed.

  Kaia: TBH I thought it was a little juvenile at first, but then I thought, if you’re comfortable with it, it will get people’s attention. And Steve will definitely think it’s “fun.”

  He sure would. I had to get out of this. I typed back.

  Me: I was

  Delete.

  Me: But

  Delete.

  Me: Yeah, I changed my

  But Kaia started typing.

  Kaia: Thanks so much for this, Cam.

  My thumbs hovered above my phone. Two hearts. She’d just sent me two hearts. Which I knew didn’t really mean anything. They were just little digital pictures. A bunch of pixels. People used them all the time. They used them to describe their affection for tacos. But also . . . they kinda did mean something. To me. No one had ever sent them to me before. Especially not Kaia. And . . . I didn’t want to stop getting those hearts, even if they were meaningless. Even if it only meant I was on the same level as tacos.

  How bad was a diaper really? It’s not like it was worse than a swimsuit. And yeah, people would laugh at me, but it was for a good cause. We’d been planning on making an announcement at morning assembly, but this would be better, right? And Kaia thought it was a good idea.

  Me: Anything for you.

  Delete.

  Me: Anything for Steve.

  Send.

  One package of men’s Depends and an assortment of rainbow Sharpies later, I strolled into school, my backpack over my bare back, my Nikes and gym socks my only articles of clothing. I’d used the markers to write SaveSteve.org over the front and back sides of the diaper and then drawn little pictures of Steve kicking cancer’s butt. The marine layer made the air a bit chilly and I was covered in goose bumps, but I was smiling. Steve may have been trying to embarrass me, but I was going to make sure this worked out for the best.

  “Yo. That’s hilarious!” A group of guys from the baseball team pointed at me and hurried over. “Man, we heard about Steve,” one of them said. “Sucks. Can we take a picture?”

  “Make sure to tag Steve so he sees it,” I said. “And hashtag Save Steve.” They posed with me. I flexed absurdly and they all laughed. They gave me fist bumps, then hurried off, already tapping their phones.

  After the baseball team took selfies with me, it seemed everyone wanted to. Soon I was surrounded by kids who usually never even spoke to me, asking me to take pictures with them. I got into it, coming up with even more ridiculous poses. I was actually enjoying myself. Yes, I looked stupid, but usually when I was working on a cause, people avoided eye contact and walked the other direction. This was a nice change. Though there was one minor point of irritation.

  “Poor Steve . . .”

  “I cried when I heard.”

  “Shouldn’t have happened to such a good dude.”

  People would not shut up about Steve and how great he was.

  “Oh my god, is he dying? I heard he was dying.” A girl had her arm wrapped around my waist as she took a selfie.

  “Actually, his cancer is highly curable,” I said as she took picture after picture.

  “I just think of him wasting away . . .”

  I pictured Steve floating in the middle of his turquoise pool.

  “He’s not . . .” But she’d already run off, phone in hand, posting her pictures. I sighed.

  On one hand, I was excited this was working out so well. On the other, it totally sucked. Steve was definitely not my most worthy cause. Climate change, gun control, the shark . . . no one seemed to care about those. But now that the King of Kegs wasn’t feeling well, suddenly people were invested.

  “Looking good, Mr. Webber. I’m proud of you,” Mrs. Cotes, my ancient and usually perpetually grumpy history teacher, said as she tottered past.

  “Thanks!” I gave her a thumbs-up. My phone buzzed. Kaia. I hadn’t seen her yet, but she must have seen people’s posts by now. I pulled out my phone.

  It wasn’t a text from Kaia.

  It was a picture of a naked lady pressed up against a redwood tree.

  I fumbled trying to close the window, my suddenly sweaty fingers sliding over the cracked glass.

  Thought this might be your sort of thing.

  No name, just a number, but I knew who it was. Steve. Before I could respond, another photo flashed up.

  Or maybe this?

  Another naked woman. This time a PETA activist promising not to wear fur.

  These?

  A barrage of photos followed, one after another of naked environmental activists. All I could see were breasts. Legs. Waists. Belly buttons. And lots and lots of skin. So much skin.

  Anyway, just wanted to thank you for all your HARD work.

  I finally managed to click the window closed, breathing heavily.

  “Oh my god.” A burst of giggles rang out a few feet away from me. A couple of sophomores were burying their faces in their hands, shaking with laughter, their cheeks bright red. A few more nervous titters had me spinning around. Everyone I turned to wore an expression of either shock, disgust, or amusement. Sometimes all three.

  “Wha . . . ?”

  And then I felt it, tugging against the diaper. I looked down, begging it not to be true. But it was. It was so horribly true.

  I had a boner.

  It was popping a tent up in the middle of my carefully drawn SaveSteve.org. And it wasn’t going away. The laughter intensified. Cameras came out. The soft click click of pictures being snapped filled the air. My face was on fire. I
had to get out of here. And probably out of the school. And the city. And the state. Actually, Canada was looking good, because after today I was pretty sure I’d have to go international to find someone who hadn’t heard of my boner. I searched for an escape, but there were too many people. How were there so many people? There couldn’t have been this many a second ago. A gnarled hand gripped my bare shoulder. I yelped.

  “Sweetie, do you maybe want to take that inside somewhere?” Mrs. Cotes peered at me through her smudged bifocals. She turned to the crowd, waving her frail arms. “Nothing to see here, people!”

  Which of course made people completely lose their shit. Clapping my hands over my still inexplicably raging boner, I ran.

  The echo of my classmates’ laughter bounced down the hallway. Still covering myself with one hand, I used the other to try door after door. None of the classrooms were unlocked yet. Finally, one door pulled open and I threw myself inside.

  The door clicked shut behind me, blocking out all sound but my ragged breathing. I looked down.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I still had a boner. “What the hell? Go away!” I waved my hands at it. The only thing that happened was I created a slight breeze. The traitorous boner remained. “Go away! Please!” I closed my eyes. Was it going to stay like this forever? I counted to ten, then peeked, hoping for improvement. Nope. Still bonering. “Fine.” I ripped off my backpack and pulled out my clothes. I yanked on a T-shirt. “Just . . . fine. Go. Stay. Who cares? My life is over. So whatever you were hoping was going to happen by popping up and saying hi is never going to happen now. Ever. Good job.” I tugged up my pants. It was covered, at least. “Finally. Thank you.” And now that it couldn’t embarrass me, it was gone.

  My phone buzzed. I grabbed it, ready to murder Steve through text.

  Kaia: Where are you?

  Shit. My fingers trembled but I managed to punch out a response.

  Me: I bailed on the diaper. People didn’t get it.

  That sounded reasonable. She was obviously running late, so there was a chance she hadn’t seen the hashtag yet. There was a pause as I waited for her reply.