Two Roads from Here

by Teddy Steinkellner

  Nikki nodded. She opened her mouth like she was about to launch into a monologue. She closed it and went with one word instead. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  I drummed my fingers on the table. Nikki folded her hands in her lap. I sniffled. I coughed.

  “I’m sorry I never reached out after the tape leaked. I guess I didn’t know if we were good enough friends to talk about it, or friends at all really. I didn’t want to weird you out. Also, I dunno, I guess I’ve been going through stuff of my own.”

  “I know,” Nikki said. “I heard about Allegra. And Brian Mack, of all people. That’s awful, Wiley.” She reached back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”

  Nikki sighed.

  I sighed too.

  “You know what the worst part of this crap is? It’s not everything that already happened. Like yeah, it hurt when Allie left me for literally a giant thumb with a face, but I can get over that. I can forget the past. It’s tough but doable. But you know what’s really gonna ruin me?”

  “The future,” Nikki said.

  “Right. Like sure, I lost Allegra as my friend, but also I lost her as a math and science tutor. So now, because she’s out of my life, I’m not even gonna graduate?”

  “Exactly,” Nikki said. “And with me it’s, like, this video follows me around everywhere I go, so now my parents won’t let me out of their sight. My dad said he’ll only support me if I go to DCCC, which means next year I have to stay trapped at home instead of getting out and starting over like I want.”

  “I probably won’t even go to college to begin with,” I said. “And even if by some miracle I do, who cares. I’m not gonna make any friends. I’m such a loser I lost my nerd friend to a bully.”

  “Hey,” Nikki said, rolling her eyes. “Better a loser than a porn star.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said. “But I actually wouldn’t mind being a porn star, you know? I’m looking to break into the film industry, and it might be a cool way to meet some cameramen and casting directors.”

  Nikki smiled. “Nah, I don’t think you’d like working in porn. You have to be naked a lot, and I know you like wearing your wolf shirts.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But at least I’d get to make some new friends. You know, like the pizza delivery guy. And the electrician. And the dude in the bunny costume with the strategically placed hole.”

  “Yeah,” Nikki said. “But listen. If you want to be a truly great porn star like me, you have to be willing to shave”—she pointed at my little mustache—“everything.”

  We snickered at that, uncontrollably. The Bear stood on her hind legs and shushed us. We didn’t care.

  “Hey,” I said, after a half minute or so of silence. “You’re not a porn star, you know.”

  “You’re not a loser,” she said.

  “You wanna know something?”

  “I do.”

  “You know when we first met and you gave me advice about love?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think about that a lot.”

  “I do too, Wiley.”

  “I’m sorry how people have treated you,” I said.

  “I’m sorry you lost your friend,” she said.

  Her hand was resting right in front of her, on the table. Without thinking, I reached out and touched it. And it was awesome. She squeezed mine back.

  • • •

  From that day on, every detention all the way until spring break, it’s been the two of us. I’ll sneak a thing of Nutter Butters or Funyuns into the library, and we’ll split the bag. Nikki will bring a fashion magazine and we’ll laugh at the ads, saying who looks like DeSean in a wig, who looks like Allegra but ten times hotter. Without the Bear noticing, I’ll show Nikki film trailers on my phone, and I’ll tell her about all of the movies I want to show her someday, especially the eighties teen flicks, my guilty pleasure slash personal favorite genre.

  Mostly, I love just talking to Nik. We’ll start on a topic, like parents or love or sex or whatever, and ninety minutes later, we’ll still be going. And even after the Bear scares us out of detention, even when we go back to our separate houses, we never stop talking. We text, we chat, we continue to connect.

  I know I’m pissing away my shot at graduating. I know detention time is when I’m supposed to be doing my homework. I know I’m on my last chance if I ever want to leave this place, if I ever want to have a future. But honestly, screw all that. I don’t want to kill myself worrying about tomorrow. All I want is to love the now.

  • • •

  “Spring break . . . ,” I said this afternoon, post-detention. “Spring break . . . spring break forever . . .”

  Nikki lifted an eyebrow.

  “Wow,” she said in a flat voice. “Spring break. Amazing. I’m so excited to escape being called a whore at school so I can go be treated like one at home.”

  I leaned over. I gave her a side hug. “I’m sorry, dude. I hope it’s okay. You know, you can call me anytime anything comes up.”

  “Sure,” Nikki said. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll see you in a week.”

  “Right,” she said. “See you.” She picked up her bag and began to walk away. Then, randomly, she spun to me instead.

  “Hold on,” she said, placing a hand on my chest. “Who says we can’t hang out over break?”

  “What? We . . . What?”

  “Do you want to come over tonight? I think you’ll be allowed, because no offense, but my parents would never in a zillion years mistake you for a boyfriend of mine.”

  I made a face pretending like my feelings were so hurt. Then I grinned instead, and Nikki did too. We high-fived, clasping our hands together and letting them stay there. And as we stood across from each other, as we held hands, right then I got the most brilliant beyond brilliant idea that a stupid man boob like me has ever had.

  “I’ll bring weed.”

  * * *

  13. COLE MARTIN-HAMMER

  * * *

  Oh, the thinks you can thiiiiink, when you think aboooout . . .”

  “SEUSS!!!!!”

  The curtain closed and opened again. The audience’s applause was rapturous. One by one, the less talented and, frankly, less attractive members of the cast—Steph, Sofia, Liam, Neil, Brian, et cetera—took their bows. That whole time, I knew that all of their cheers were really for me.

  Then it was time for the Cat in the mother-effing Hat. I pounced forward and struck a pose, my skintight suit showing off the streamlined contours of my elite bod. I pawed at the crowd and blew a kiss, displaying my trademark mix of childlike mischief and kinky sensuality. For the final time ever in my high school performing career, I bowed my head. At this point, the entire auditorium orgasmed in unison.

  It was glorious.

  I felt godlike.

  • • •

  After the show came the cast party, back at my place. My mom wasn’t there. She’d wanted to make closing night, but she drew another midnight shift. My dad wasn’t there either. I mean, obviously.

  I was totes fine with the lack of parents, though, because that set the stage for a night of good old-fashioned, kegs-in-the-kitchen, who’s-gonna-throw-up-in-the-bushes, who’s-gonna-give-who-a-secret-hand-job-in-the-laundry-closet-type fun.

  “Mr. Cat in the Hat,” Liam Garner said to me halfway through the party, Rashan Mohammed right behind him. “The mayor of Whoville and Yertle the Turtle hereby challenge you to a game of beer pong!”

  “Excellent,” I said, tapping my fingers together. “On but one condition: no pictures. I’d hate for someone from Stanny admissions to see me on social media in such a debaucherous state.”

  “Dude,” Rashan said, nudging me. “You’re the only one I don’t trust with a camera.”

  “Astute observation,” I said, winking. “Let me go grab my partner.”

  “Hey, Horton?

  “Lennie?

>   “Big Mack?

  “Flabby Bald Burger with a side of Fat Sauce, hold the Hair?”

  I finally found Brian sitting in the far corner of the living room, all by his lonesome. His phone was in his hand. He looked exhausted.

  “Chubby Lumpkins,” I said, approaching him. “Some lame-lames asked if we wanted to school them at BP. I said yes. Let’s go.”

  Brian glanced down at his phone, then up at me. His head didn’t move, just his eyes.

  “Come on,” I said. “We have to prove we have the biggest, most masculine penises by being the most accurate at throwing tiny balls into unsanitary cups.”

  Brian blinked. “Sorry. I can’t.”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out an imaginary revolver. I loaded the gun and mimed aiming it at my temple. “Please don’t tell me this is about Allegra. Please don’t still be hung up on that drippy butt stain.”

  “I’m texting to see if she’s coming tonight. I don’t wanna miss if she texts back.”

  I fired the gun. I picked invisible fragments of splattered brain off of Brian’s shirt.

  “Honey boy,” I said. “You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”

  “There might be a chance—”

  “Bullshit there’s a chance. Look, lo siento, muchacho, but neither of us could have predicted that you would ever date Allegra in the first place, nor how she’d react when she found out that we were the ones who leaked that naughty video. And I’m sorry about what it did to your relationship, for realsies I am, but you’ve got to build a bridge and get over it.”

  “You shouldn’t’ve been so obvious in front of her.”

  “I know, I know, and I told you before, a thousand apologies, homey, but this isn’t my fault, okay? And it’s not that big a deal.”

  As I said that, a chill seemed to run through Brian. He clutched his phone. He stared ahead grimly.

  “I’m not blaming you,” he said in a low voice. “You were only trying to help me. I know that. I appreciate it. But I can’t be around you. Not if I want a shot at Allegra.”

  I tried to smile. “Ah,” I said in my funny vampire voice. “I see how eet ees. You are pulling Count Blackula’s leg. You are making heem very vorried for no reason. But eet ees just a ruse! For you vill play beer pong after all!”

  Brian’s forehead wrinkled. He shook his head subtly, almost imperceptibly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t think I can be friends with you.”

  I froze for a breath. I threw my head back and cackled. “Ha! As if. Get that folding chair out of your vagina. Talk to me when you’re ready to be chill again, ’kay? Catch you on the flip, yo. Byeeeee!”

  I walked away from him, taking in the party around me, watching everyone as they made timeless theater-kid memories: taking selfies, singing five-part harmonies, cracking each other up with Mr. Bayer impressions, reveling in the glory of their youthful selves.

  I still needed a partner for beer pong.

  “Neil?

  “Changeling?

  “Neil, you angel-faced, baby-cheeked boy genius, where are you?

  “Neil, you feminine-eyelashed, Madame-Alexander-doll-mouthed, twink-bodied pastry puff, where are you?

  “Neil, you naive, servile, malleable piece of shit! Get your baby dick in here, child!”

  Minutes and minutes went by. Still he didn’t show. Not even when I dangled a piece of jerky in the air. Not even when I threatened to call his parents and tell them about all the jerkies.

  Finally, I had to throw up my hands and walk back to the BP table, cat tail between my legs.

  “Sorry, gents. Strangest thing, but at the moment, I cannot seem to find a suitable partner. Looks like I’ll have to take the two of you on . . . by my own damn self!”

  • • •

  A few hours later, well after my beer pong victory, the party died down. Brian slipped off without saying a word. Everyone else danced out the door, crooning Broadway jams into the wee hours.

  This is when Neil finally showed his puny, adorable face.

  “Changeling!” I said as he walked into my kitchen and up to me. “There’s my widdle guy. Where you been all my life?”

  Neil regarded me. His expression revealed nothing. This was strange. True, he’s not typically the most emotive person, but what with my being his omniscient master and him being my orphan boy, I can usually read him pretty well. Not this time, though.

  “Where you been all my life?” I repeated.

  “I was in the laundry closet,” Neil said.

  I made a face. “Doing what? Washing your ceremonial sari?”

  “No,” Neil said.

  I put my hand to my mouth.

  “Oh. Mah. Gerd. Are you secretly hot for me? Have you been waiting all year to confess? Don’t you think it was a bit on the nose to wait for hours inside a literal closet?”

  “Stop it,” Neil said. “No.”

  “Then what the Hello Kitty were you doing off the grid, child?”

  He spoke without hesitation. “I have something to tell you, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but now I think I am.”

  “Lay it on me,” I said. “You’re freaking me out.”

  “You’re not going to Stanford next year.”

  I raised one eyebrow as high as it could go. I tilted my head to the left, damn near ninety degrees. “Um . . . false. You know I just accepted the offer last week, right? Signed, sealed, delivered, I’m theirs.”

  “No,” he said. “I’m sorry, Cole, but you’re not going there.”

  “LOL. And what would you know about it? Go eat a sacred cow or something, mmkay, brah? Leave me alone.”

  “You’re not going to Stanford,” Neil said, his face still exactly the same, still so creepily calm. “Because I told them about the SAT.”

  What.

  The.

  What.

  As soon as he said it, I felt crazy dizzy. I sat. I practically fell into the nearest chair. Neil stood over me.

  “I hate how you think you’re better than people. You’re not better than people. You cheat and lie and spread negativity to get ahead. That’s not superior; it’s shameful. Allegra was right when she called you a coward. That’s exactly what you are. I am so disappointed in myself for trusting you these past years, for believing you could be anything else.

  “Several weeks ago, I contacted the College Board, as well as Stanford and the other colleges on your wish list: Northwestern. NYU. Yale. Brown. I detailed your entire plot to them, and I sent ample evidence of your scheme in the form of e-mails and screenshots. I told them you manipulated me into helping you cheat, which you did, and I swore you would do the same to others in college, which I’m certain you would have. So I was just informed that you are being banned from Stanford, and the other schools as well, and that your most recent SAT scores have been invalidated. You should be receiving official word soon, perhaps over spring break.

  “I gave you many chances, Cole. I kept telling myself that you could not possibly be this depraved. I kept giving you chances all year. And then I heard how you spoke to Allegra about Stanford, the way you rubbed it in her face. And I watched the video of Nikki, who you’ve never even met. And I realized what you’ve done to me since the day you ‘discovered’ me, how you’ve used me for your purposes, who you’ve made me become. And I refuse to be that person any longer. I wash my hands of you, okay? I am not your little changeling anymore, and I never will be again, as long as I live.”

  Neil finished talking, and he made a little face, and now that I’ve had some time to reflect on it, his face was, well, it’s hard to admit, but . . .

  He was smirking. Neil smirked at me. He practically smiled, and he kept that look fixed on his mug as he dropped his final line:

  “By the way, I am going to get a superb college essay out of this.”

  With that, he walked out of my kitchen. He exited my house. He left me all by myself, at two in the morning, to sit there and think. I took a cigarette out of my pocket. I
lit it. I began to smoke.

  I’ve been in a fog ever since.

  * * *

  14. BRIAN MACK

  * * *

  My pops grunted, picked at his butt, and flipped to the sports section. As he scanned the page, he grunted again.

  “Hmm, a thing about DeSean. Looks like he’s trying to throw again.”

  I scooped some scrambled egg with my fork.

  “Says here he threw a fifty-yard bomb in spring practice. From a chair.”

  I speared a chunk of sausage.

  “Quote from the Fresno State coach saying DeSean’s his best recruit in years, maybe of his whole career. Another quote from the Oregon coach saying he would have agreed, but what with the injury . . .”

  I swigged down half a glass of orange juice, hopefully quick enough to get out in time, hopefully before Dad could—

  “Shame what happened to him, huh? Hey, Brian, now that you’re done with that Dr. Seuss nonsense of yours, you oughta stop by practice and talk to him. You need to apologize to that boy.”

  Dammit.

  I grabbed a fistful of bacon and flung it at the opposite wall, where it slid down, leaving a trail of rank juices. I took my plate and dropped it on the floor, where it exploded into pointy shards. I crop-dusted the room in loud, nasty, epically Brian Mack fashion. I peaced before my dad could say boo.

  As much I hate the man, though, he was right.

  Well, partially.

  I did have some apologizing to do. But not to DeSean.

  To her.

  • • •

  The room smelled like death. I took one step into the gigantic elderly diaper that is Casa de Maria, and right away I understood why grandkids never visit these places. I put my hand to my nose. I was just about to bounce.

  But I couldn’t turn around. I was on a mission. This was some Greek mythology shit. I had to journey into the Underworld if I was going to win my lady back.

  Allegra was sitting at a card table with two wrinkle-faced women. One of the women had jowls like a basset hound. The other had less hair than I do.

  “Inez,” the bald one said. “Tell her about Duke. Tell her what Duke said to Estelle.”