“Steve!” Mark hissed. “Knock it off.”
“You should listen to your girlfriend,” Jack said, not even looking up.
“You are such scum, you know that?” Steve said, walking over and getting right in Jack’s face. Jack didn’t move a muscle.
“All I know,” Jack said, very softly, “is that if you don’t settle the fuck down, your little friend over there will have more than just bats to worry about.”
“Leave him alone,” Steve snarled, his entire body trembling. “I mean it. If you want to fuck with someone then step to me, okay?”
Finally, Jack looked up and locked eyes with Steve. With Jack rising to Steve’s challenge, the rest of his friends found themselves preoccupied with the scenic view of the rest of the gym. Kyle had come up from the locker room during the exchange, but he managed to stay back from all four of them.
The bell rang, but Jack and Steve didn’t move at all. The small crowd of kids that had been waiting by the door watching the exchange decided that nothing was going to happen and began to file out the door.
Finally, Jack just smiled and patted Steve on the shoulder, and Mark was actually surprised that Steve didn’t just explode and start swinging. “That’s good,” Jack said. “‘Step to me.’ Very street.” Jack just turned and left, with Steve’s eyes burning a hole in his back.
Victor followed after Jack, glaring at Steve. Mark wasn’t sure if it was for standing up to them or outing them for running him off the road. Kyle still hung back, blending in with the rest of the crowd as they left for class. Mark just stood there, staring in disbelief at the whole exchange.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Steve said, waving Mark towards the door.
Mark just stood there as the last of the kids from the locker room filed past them.
“Hey,” Steve said when they were all gone. “Let’s go man, we’re going to be late.” Righteous Fury Steve, with Public Humiliation Action was gone, apparently replaced with Punctual Steve, complete with “What Did I Do Now?” look.
“Mark?”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“What?”
“What?” Mark echoed, his voice wavering. “That! What the hell were you thinking? What was all that ‘step to me’ bullshit?”
“Boys!” Coach said, poking his head out of his office door. “Watch the language and get to class!”
Mark turned and stormed out the double doors, not caring if Steve was behind him or not. “Hey,” Steve said, jogging up alongside Mark. “What is your problem?”
“Oh Jesus,” Mark snarled. “Take your fucking pick why don’t you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve said, and then he waved his arms dismissively. “Look,” he continued, “what is the big deal? I wanted to let Jack know he couldn’t keep fucking with you like this and--”
“Of course he can keep fucking with me!” Mark whirled around. “Look at my face! I was minding my own goddamn business when they followed me, and who knows how long they were doing that, by the way, and he just . . . ” Mark could only wave his bandaged wrist at this point as his words piled on top of each other.
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Steve said, sounding like an impatient mother. Mark clenched his jaw as tight as he could, hoping it would keep him from bellowing obscenities up and down the hallway.
“Look,” Mark finally said through clenched teeth. “If Jack wants to fuck with me he’s going to do it. He made that painfully obvious. I do not need you to finally try and stand up for me and to get your big brother merit badge or whatever the fuck you were trying to over-compensate for back there.”
“I was trying to be your friend,” Steve said, an edge creeping into his voice.
“Because you’ve been doing such a bang up job of that lately. Thanks for checking up on me this week, by the way.”
“What? I didn’t have to! I called Christine and she told me you were fine so I didn’t think I had to bug you.”
“What do you mean you called her?”
“Like . . . on the phone?” Steve said. “Is that a problem?”
“How long have you been talking on the phone with her?”
“I don’t know, man. I got her number when you were suspended because she asked about some school stuff, but it’s no big deal.”
Mark just stared at him.
“C’mon, man,” Steve said. “We just talk about what’s going on with you because we’re worried, okay?”
“I know,” Mark said flatly. “Because you’re such a good friend.”
“Mark,” Steve started, but Mark turned a corner and headed for the stairwell. Steve’s class was down the hallway the other way.
“Just leave me alone,” Mark called over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.
Everything else in Mark’s last two classes was just a blur. At the end of the day he had wandered to the bike rack lost in turning his conversation with Steve over and over in his head. He rolled his eyes at his own foolishness, and turned and started the walk home. “Hey,” a voice called after him. He sighed, turned around, trying to feign excitement.
“I was hoping I’d run into you,” Christine said, throwing her arms around his neck with a big smile.
“Well, consider me run into,” he said, trying to grin.
Hey, maybe Steve texted her between classes and she's trying to be extra sweet to you.
“How’re you feeling?” she said.
“Okay,” he lied. “Tired, but I’m not that sore anymore.”
“Well, aside from that. You seemed so distant at lunch.”
“Oh,” Mark said, breaking their embrace and taking her by the hand. “I dunno. I just felt kinda out of the loop.”
“Well,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze, “it’s not like you missed anything this week. Just basic stuff.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I just . . . Steve and I got into it after Gym, because he had to try to stand up for me or some shit to Jack and his buddies, and really he just made himself look like an ass.”
“Oh,” she said, supportive demeanor beginning to crumble. “I’m sure he was just trying to help.”
“I know, I know. Everyone is just trying to help. I just wish I wasn’t so fucking sad that I needed everyone’s help. It’s just . . . what’d you call it? Stupid macho horseshit? I guess I’m just really pissed off at him right now.”
She laughed a little and then gave his hand another squeeze. “Look, I forgot to mention it at lunch but he and I were going to get together tonight and study. He has some history notes that would be really helpful for that big paper I’m so lost on.”
“Really? He didn’t mention anything to me about it.”
“Oh,” she said. “That’s weird.”
“That’s Steve for you.”
“Look, if you’d rather me not go over there until you two have had a chance to work this out that’s fine. I understand.”
Mark rubbed his forehead, trying to buy himself some time before he had to answer.
“I,” he started with every intention of finishing that with don’t think you’ve got to worry about it. You do what you need to do. Instead, it came out, “think that would be a good idea. Just until things cool off, y’know?”
“Oh,” she said, seeming even more confused by what he said than he did.
No. Not confused. Disappointed.
He wanted it to be ridiculous but he could see it flash across her eyes. “That’s cool,” she said looking away. “I don’t want to cause problems between you guys. It sucks, because even if I don’t go over there, I still have to get cracking on this thing or I’m going to totally bomb this class.”
“That’s fine,” Mark said, alternately wanting to take it back so she wasn’t so hurt and eager to get away from her so her disappointment didn’t hurt him so damn much. “I have a shitload I’ve got to get done too.”
“Okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “Do you want to do something
tomorrow?”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll call you, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. She leaned in a kissed him quickly and then turned and walked towards home.
As he watched he go regret began to seep into him. What if what he thought was disappointment about not going to Steve’s was really just disappointment in Mark being such a goddamn baby about the whole thing?
Then again, he knew exactly how most of Steve’s “study dates” went.
Even if everything was perfectly innocent it was probably for the best, he thought. With everything in his life flying in every which direction the last thing he needed was to have some kind of panic attack laying in bed at home worrying what his girlfriend and his best friend were up to.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Christine had gotten used to the walk home in the absence of Mark’s scooter. She had tried not to take it for granted given how irregular it had become with his suspension, the grounding and now the sick days. A free ride home from school wasn’t something she could count on all the time.
Of course, nowadays, neither was Mark.
She’d wanted to shriek at him when he asked her not to go to Steve’s. It was so stupid and pointless. He might as well have started pounding his chest and tried to drag her back to his house by her hair.
Then again, she thought, maybe I’m just angry because I was disappointed that I’m not going to go. Or that I even asked “permission” in the first place.
She’d ask to be polite, thinking he wouldn’t be bothered by it, but then she remembered that this was Mark she was dealing with. She never would’ve asked any other guy she’d been seeing if she could hang out with another boy, especially one of his friends. She’d had “study dates” with plenty of boys before, ones she was far more attracted to than Steve, and nothing had happened. In Mark’s case it was just a matter of making sure he didn’t freak out about something that wasn’t a big deal, no matter how much Steve playfully flirted with her. He had enough on his plate without worrying about something like this, no matter how much of a pain it was.
When she got home, she deftly avoided her brother, who was in the living room watching reruns of Magnum P.I. in his bathrobe. He’d settled into a weird, summer-vacation like schedule of staying up really late, sleeping in until at least noon, and then hanging around the house for the rest of the afternoon to make himself a pest to everyone, especially Christine. She was well barricaded in her room before he could throw anything or bait her into a tedious exchange of insults.
She ended up staring at the phone for almost ten minutes before she picked it up and dialed Steve’s number. She had to do this quickly, like pulling off a band-aid.
“Yellow,” he answered cheerfully.
“Hey Steve,” she said.
“Hey yourself.” He was positively beaming over the phone, and she knew why. “What’s going on?”
“Well, this is kind of awkward . . .” she started, and she could feel Steve’s mood crash on the other end of the line.
“Oh geez,” he mumbled. “Did he say something to you? I was just trying to stick up for him, that’s all!”
“I know, but . . . can you blame him?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Steve, c’mon, you know what Mark’s like, don’t you? You’ve been his friend longer than I have, and I know how something like that would get under his skin. He’s so, y’know, insecure about stuff like this, and if you try to stand up for him or be so overt in helping him out, he’s just going to resent it.”
There was a long pause, and then “Really?”
There was no way she could stifle her laugh. “Of course!” she smirked. “God, how long have you known him? Since like, the third grade or something, right? And you haven’t figured that out yet?”
“Well, I’m a teenager, not a therapist.”
“Clearly,” she said, still chuckling.
“Well, I’ll just have to make it up to him by making sure that you get a kick-ass grade on that paper, huh?”
“Yeah, about that . . .”
“Oh you didn’t, did you?”
“Yeah, I did. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just look him in the face and lie. Even if it was by omission.”
“Was this before or after he and I had our own lovers spat? If it was before, that’d explain a lot.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Well, during our little quarrel, I mentioned how we’d been talking about what’s going on with him, and--”
“Oh, and you’re mad at me for mentioning stuff to him?”
“Yeah, I know. Let’s just say he didn’t take our little heart-to-hearts well.”
She grinded her teeth together as the anger rose in her. She wasn’t even allowed to talk to someone else? Who the else did she have around here to talk to? Mark hadn’t been lying when he said that dating him wasn’t the best move for her social life.
“Super,” was all she could bring herself to say.
“I know it sucks, but look, you still need these notes, right?”
“Yeah,” she murmured.
“So why don’t you just swing over and pick them up. He doesn’t want you to fail, right?”
She closed her eyes and sighed. The fact that she even had to think about just going over and get notes made her even angrier. “Sure,” she said.
“So you were just trying to get away?”
“Yes,” Christine said, tapping her fingers impatiently on the dashboard.
“So you don’t want to see the movie?” he brother asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.
“No,” she said, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. “I just want you to drive me somewhere, that’s all, and not have Mom and Dad ask me a bunch of stupid questions, okay?”
Ryan just grunted and kept driving. “Where are we going again? I thought you said Puppy boy was poor.”
“I’m not going to see Mark. I’m going to pick up some notes from a friend of his. After I do that, you can drop me off at the mall while you see whatever testosterone fest movie you’re going to see, okay?”
“Yes, Miss Daisy,” he snickered.
“What?”
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
“Keep it that way.”
She had scribbled down the directions to Steve’s place, which turned out to be fairly close to her house. Not as big, but still very nice and well looked after. There was only an old station wagon in the driveway, and Ryan parked as she headed for the back door. Steve opened the door with a grin before she even had a chance to knock.
“Hey, study buddy.”
“Hey,” she smiled. “So you’ve got the notes, right?”
His smile faltered a little bit, but he backed up and waved her inside. “I’ll run upstairs and get them.”
She tapped her foot impatiently, looking around the immaculate kitchen. Mark had said a couple of times that Steve’s Mom was kind of a clean freak, and it was clear that he wasn’t exaggerating. She could hear Steve’s footsteps going up stairs, and a TV playing softly somewhere in the house, but other than that the place was deathly quiet.
Steve came down a couple of minutes later, a three-ring binder under his arm. “I think these are it.”
“You think?” she said, taking the binder from him and beginning to leaf through it. He hadn’t been kidding when he said his handwriting was bad. “How am I supposed to read this?” she said, desperation creeping into her voice.
“Well, it’s not that bad, is it?” he said, leaning over her shoulder to take a look. “Well, I think that’s . . . that’s ‘Lincoln.’ I can tell because of the little stick figure with the hat. I think that says ‘Gettysburg.’ And I think--” but Christine snapped the binder shut before he could finish.
“Steve,” she said, “I thought you said they weren’t that bad.”
“Well, I was probably just having on off day that day. The rest can’t be that bad,” He smiled at her crookedly.
“Steve!”
“Hey, look,” he said, raising his hands defensively. “I’m just trying to help, that’s all. I know you don’t want to hang out here or anything, and I don’t blame you, really, but that’s all I’ve got.”
She let out a sigh and opened the binder again to take a closer look. From cover to cover, it was indecipherable. She looked back up at Steve, who just shrugged his shoulders. “Can you help me figure this out?”
“I’m sure I can,” he smiled sweetly. “I mean, it’s not like we’d have to pull an all nighter or anything.”
“Yeah,” she smirked. “It’s not like you took tons and tons of notes. It won’t take too long, right?”
“An hour, probably no more than that.”
“And your folks will be cool with that?”
“Oh, they’re in the city for some party my Mom’s office is throwing. They’ll crawl in near dawn, I’m sure.”
She heaved another sigh. Of course they were. “Okay, let me go tell my brother to take off.” She dropped the binder on the table and headed back out to the car.
“Took you long enough,” he said before she could even say anything.
“Look, I have to stay here and figure this out, okay?”
Ryan just raised an eyebrow.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what? This is one of his friends, right?”
“Yes,” she said, “His best friend.”
He raised the eyebrow further.
“Quit it, Ry.”
“I’m not doing anything,” he said, smirking. “So you’ll be in good hands?”
“Just fucking leave, okay?” she said, turning around and storming back to the house.
“Well, you know what they say,” he muttered to himself as he backed out of the driveway. “Nice guys finish last.”
“Slow down,” she said, breaking the kiss.
“Sorry,” Steve mumbled, moving his hand north of her waist.
“No,” Christine smiled, guiding his hand back downward, “You were just doing it too fast.”
“Oh,” he said, smiling back at her. The notes, half-organized, were strewn over Steve’s bedroom floor and rustled under her naked body. She gasped, squeezing her thighs on his hand as he continued fingering her. She was kissing his neck and bare chest, and soon her hand began to work its way into his pants.
Shadow of the Past Page 18
