I’m just about to answer when Jack, who is pulling his camera out from some cabinet, says, “C’mon, Dusty. I’ll come too. We’ll make it a big family night.”
I stop. Everything stops. Even Matt and Jules seem to sense that something has just changed. Jack looks up from where he is kneeling, his eyes wide. I can practically read his thoughts: I’m not sorry I said it, but how’s he gonna react?
I’m somewhat proud to say that I don’t lash out. I don’t lose control, even though I want to.
There’s no way I’m going trick-or-treating now, though. This isn’t my family. I’m not sure what my family is anymore, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t it.
I clear my throat. “Actually, I’m really tired. Long day at school. I kind of just want to take a nap. Is that okay?”
“No, Dusty!” Julia grabs my hand. “We want you to come with us!”
“Yeah, Dusty, yeah!” Matt shoves at me.
They just can’t get it. Can’t get that I’d never shared them before, and that these aren’t the adults I’ve spend years waiting to share them with.
I ignore any looks Jack and Beth are sharing and hug both Matt and Julia good-bye. “C’mon, guys, you’re going to have a great time. I’ll go with you next year, I promise.”
Matt groans as I head toward the stairs and I almost cave, but one look at Beth keeps me going. I take the stairs to my bedroom two at a time, and I pace in my room, waiting, until I am sure I’ve heard the last of the kids’ excited shrieks. The door slams, a car roars to life, and the sound of gravel lifting off the driveway fills the night.
I grab the cell phone Jack bought me a week or so earlier out of my backpack and quickly text Emmitt. Can u come pick me up?
Chapter 6
SIX MONTHS Earlier
Daniel was talking, and Dusty was hanging on every word.
“I think it’s going to be a great movie. I mean, I know sequels suck sometimes, but Transformers won’t be like that. Want to go this weekend?”
They were sitting outside the steps of Prescott, watching Matt and Julia and Daniel’s brother Chris and a bunch of other elementary kids use the playground. Dusty was wishing that Daniel was a girl, because then this might be a date or something.
Instead of Daniel just wanting to hang out with a friend.
Then again, Dusty thought, it would probably just be easier to wish that he liked girls the way he was supposed to.
“Uhh…. I’d like to. I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not, man? You said you loved the first movie.”
He had said that—partly because he had and partly because Daniel had said he loved the first movie. “My mom’s gone Saturday night. I gotta watch Matt and Jules.”
“Maybe Sunday afternoon then?”
Dusty took in a deep breath. His mom had been gone for over a week. He had no idea if she’d be back by that weekend, but he doubted it.
“Let me ask her and get back to you.”
Daniel shrugged. “Sure, no big deal. What did you think about how they did the special effects, anyway? I sort of thought that….”
Dusty tried not to stare while he talked.
But he was pretty sure he wasn’t succeeding.
“MAN, CASEY was so excited you changed your mind.”
Emmitt’s picked me up alone, because apparently Casey was already having too much fun at the party to leave. I try not to twitch at that sentence. What about you, Emmitt? Were you excited I changed my mind?
“It’s great the way you guys have become such good friends so quickly. It’s really good for him.”
That gets me to turn my head quickly toward Emmitt. Casey is one of the cooler guys in school—friends with everybody, never hurting for company. How the hell is my loser-ass friendship any kind of benefit for him?
I must look incredulous, because Emmitt nods. “I know, he seems, like, superhuman and all that at times. But haven’t you noticed that he doesn’t really have any close friends?”
I try to come up with someone else Casey talks to as much as he talks to me, and I realize I can’t.
“He just… he really doesn’t trust people the way he used to before our dad left. He even stopped hanging out with all his elementary and middle school friends the same way after that happened. Mostly because they were all into hockey and he quit when Dad took off, but still…. I got really worried that he was going to keep everyone except me at arm’s length for the rest of his life.”
It’s so strange to hear Emmitt talking about Casey like this. It’s true; I do tend to think of Casey as being superhuman. I had no idea their dad had taken off too. Maybe in some weird, subconscious way we get each other because of that. I don’t really know what to say, so I decide to go with, “Oh, Casey did play hockey. Jack mentioned that, but Casey never talks about it.”
Emmitt laughs. “Yeah, he did. He was a total skating prodigy, actually.” He shrugs. “It actually took years for me to get as good as I am now. Casey just stepped on skates and knew what to do. Our dad was so freakin’ happy.” He looks off into the distance of the long road in front of us, and I start to realize that maybe Emmitt isn’t all that superhuman either.
“Your dad was a hockey player too?” I venture. I don’t want to ask any really stupid questions, but I don’t feel like this is too out of line, and it feels good to be having such a personal conversation with Emmitt. Up until this point, we’ve never talked about anything more meaningful than tacos versus enchiladas.
Emmitt snorts. “Not exactly. He was just an athlete, and he really wanted his kids to be too. Luckily for him, Casey has always been good at everything athletic, even gymnastics.”
“Gymnastics?” I nearly choke. It seems impossible to imagine Casey doing a cartwheel.
“Oh, he never told you about that?” Emmitt laughs hysterically. “It was when he was six. Mom said that if Dad was going to have Case doing all these different sports, she got to pick one too.” He nods appreciatively. “And he was great at that too. But in the end, he liked hockey best.”
“Uh, Emmitt….” Now I’m definitely going into uncharted territory. “Where is your dad?”
Emmitt concentrates hard on making a left-hand turn into Colby. “Uh, Ohio, last we heard.”
“Ohio.” I stop to think about that. “Do you ever see him?”
Emmitt shakes his head and keeps his eyes firmly glued to the road. “We never see him. He left when I was thirteen and Casey was eleven. Just took off. Got remarried and had new kids and everything. He calls once in a while to see how we are. Casey quit hockey that year, and we never talk about him. Just another statistic, that’s what that is.”
“Sorry, man.” Which is a pretty stupid response, but I don’t know what else to say.
We’re quiet for a few moments, and then I realize that Emmitt has just shared something huge about his life, and I’ve never told him anything about me that actually matters. I think about that for a moment before I decide to give it a shot. “Dude, I don’t know if you know this already…. My dad not being around is kind of the reason we live with Jack now. So I really mean it. About being sorry.”
The corners of his mouth turn up in a slight smile, but he doesn’t respond. “Thanks, Dusty,” he says softly.
The party has already started by the time Emmitt and I get there. Aaron’s house is small but nice; it has a decent-size kitchen and a living room that spreads out lengthwise. The living room is covered with Halloween decorations, and liquor and beer bottles dot every inch of spare furniture space. The lights are off, and strobe lights and Halloween-themed party lights are hung up all around the room. Loud dance music is playing conspicuously in the background; looks like Aaron decided to go with the shuffle mix after all. A few people in the center of the room are dancing, and small groups of people are crowded in the corners of the room. Some people are in costume and some not. Most of the girls have on pretty skimpy outfits, and I see one girl from a few of my classes who’s dressed an awful lot like
Britney Spears—and I’m pretty sure that’s not her costume.
Casey comes running up when he sees me. “Hey, dude,” he whispers, as though he’s on some kind of secret mission for the CIA. “Alicia’s over there.”
Here we go again. Sure enough, Alicia is standing in a corner surrounded by girls, drinking something out of a blue party cup. Casey keeps poking me. “Head over there, man. She’s got a curfew, I think—she won’t be there forever.”
I just glare at him, wondering where that James Dobson book is when I really need it. “I will, okay? Just give me a minute.”
Emmitt, from behind me, cracks up. “Ooh, is the party making somebody nervous?”
I mean, how much crueler can life get? Really? I glare at them both, trying hard to ignore how amazing Emmitt looks in his hockey jersey (I guess it’s supposed to be his costume or something) with his eyes all lit up and happy. “I think… I need a drink or something,” I say before I charge to the kitchen.
The problem is that I’m not sure what to do once I get there. There are a whole lot of bottles on the table and a keg of something in the corner, and all of it looks totally unfamiliar. I know, it’s weird—my dad spends most of his time above a bar and I’ve never even had a sip of beer. Except the reason it happened that way is that he spent so much time above that bar that I never had time to do much besides raise his kids. With that angry thought high in my mind, I pour a few ounces of something clear into a cup and take a slug.
“Ack!” I run to the sink and immediately spit most of it back out as Emmitt walks into the room, shaking his head.
“Dusty, what is wrong with you? Vodka? Straight up?”
I glare at him again. “I just wanted to try something,” I mumble miserably. Apparently we can mark drinking down as one more thing I fail at.
He starts mixing together the disgusting clear stuff with a bunch of juices, and soon he hands me a cup that doesn’t smell at all nauseating. “Try this. I put a lot of juice into it. You should barely even taste the vodka.”
I take a sip. He’s right; it’s actually drinkable. “Much better. Thanks.”
“Least I can do.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “That should give you the courage to go in there and talk to Alicia.”
Maybe it’s the sip of vodka, or the fact that the James Dobson book I seem to so desperately need hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe it’s just that I’m tired of pretending to be something it’s becoming pretty clear I’m not. Either way, I decide it’s time to say something. “Yeah… about that. I’m actually not really into Alicia.” I take another sip.
Emmitt pumps something from the keg (beer, I’m pretty sure) into a cup of his own and comes back to stand beside me. “Dusty, why didn’t you say something to Casey? He’s practically got you married off already.”
I’m struggling to come up with an answer to that when he slaps me on the shoulder again. “No big deal. I mean, you haven’t even talked to her yet. Are you into someone else? Let’s get more of that shit into you and find out who.”
As bad an idea as that probably is, I go along with it and chug some more of the mysterious contents of my cup.
Emmitt leads the way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, where Casey has found his way into a conversation with the Britney Spears girl. Good. At least he’s distracted.
A few of Emmitt’s hockey buddies come over, and we end up talking to them for a few moments. They’re pretty cool, but one of the drunker ones can’t seem to get past how much I look like Jack. “You’re like… a mini him!” he keeps saying over, guffawing and laughing like Jules when she watches SpongeBob. It’s almost enough to make me throw up whatever I’m drinking.
“Sorry about him,” someone else in the crowd says. “But it is kind of weird, ya know. How much you look like him. You gonna play hockey?”
They’re disappointed when I tell them I don’t even know how to skate, and Emmitt’s, like, shocked.
“Dusty, you can’t even skate? We gotta fix that right away. You can’t be Jack Morton’s look-alike and not know how to skate.”
I’ve spent most of the evening ignoring everything that happened right before Emmitt picked me up, and that one statement throws me right back to it all. “Why does everyone keep trying to make me his freakin’ son? I have a father, you know. He may not be around or anything, but I do have one.”
To give Emmitt credit, he looks flustered for less than a second before he responds. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” I must still look pretty annoyed, because he’s quick to add, “Dusty, dude, you know I get that. I do.”
I nod. I know he does. “It’s just… it’s that arm’s-length thing you said about Casey, you know? Maybe he and I get along because I’ve kind of been the same way for a long time. People let you down, you know? Maybe Casey and I both figured that out, and that’s what makes it okay for us to be… friends or whatever.” I have no idea if any of this is making any sense or if the cup I’m drinking out of is having its effect on me. “So I don’t want everybody up in my world. Because people let you down. And Jack and Beth are all about making us a… family.” I think I actually spit out that part, along with some juice, which probably ends up all over the carpet. “I have a family, you know? Jules and Matt and I, we were a good family. A great one, even. Now it’s all… different. It’s all wrong or something.”
“Uh, Dusty? Did something happen tonight? With you and Jack? Is that why you changed your mind about the party?”
I must look like I’m about to bawl or something, because Emmitt suddenly drags me away from the noise in the living room and down the hallway.
We end up in Aaron’s bedroom, which Emmitt claims is going to be fine with Aaron. We can still hear the music coming from down the hall, but it’s distant now, muted. And Emmitt’s sitting on the bed next to me. “You okay?” he asks.
I take another drink from my party cup, which probably isn’t the best idea, and I nod. “Fine, I swear. I mean, thanks for getting me away from everyone for a minute. But I really am fine.”
Emmitt looks into his cup. “You wanna talk about it?”
I do. I think I do. I realize I haven’t actually talked to anyone about any of this stuff since I moved to Vermont. Maybe I should think about going to see Jack’s stupid shrink. I guess I do keep people at an arm’s length, just like Casey.
I start to spill out the whole damn story. I start with the first time my mom took off when I was ten, and I don’t stop until I reach the scene in the kitchen with Jack and Beth. “I mean, it shouldn’t be a big deal, you know? Him saying that word. He is my uncle, after all. But I just… I just….”
“You’re not ready to give up your old life. Why should you be? Nobody asked you if you even wanted any of this.”
Emmitt says it so quietly that it takes me a moment to register that he’s just nailed down the exact problem. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s totally and completely it. How did you… how did you know that?” I’m more in awe of Emmitt than I’ve ever been before, and that’s saying something.
He smiles a little, sadly, and still we’re sitting next to each other on Aaron’s bed, and I’m not drunk, but I’ve had just enough alcohol that the impossible seems somewhat possible, and I’m leaning toward him, and he’s leaning toward me—and then we’re kissing, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
It’s the first time Julia reached for me after a nightmare, and the first time Matt ever scored a goal in soccer, and the day in the park with my parents from so long ago, and the first time I stood on a skateboard, and that first taste of Jack and Beth’s fried chicken, and the first time I ever listened to a complete Led Zeppelin album… all rolled into one amazing press of Emmitt’s lips to mine.
It lasts a few moments, and then we pull away from each other, both of us panting, even though that kiss couldn’t have lasted more than ten seconds. “Uh,” I say. So much for expressing how life changing that was.
Emmitt doesn’t have time
to say anything because Casey is suddenly yelling for him, loudly, and Emmitt pulls open the door to the room and starts charging down the hall. I go charging after him. A large crowd has gathered at the front of the house, and guess who’s at the center of it: Rick, waving a beer bottle around and pointing it intermittently at people. He looks completely smashed. A couple of his cronies from class stand behind him. “Whaddidya think, pretty boy?” He gestures the bottle at Emmitt. “That I wouldn’t finoutabou’ you taking my position this year?”
Casey is standing to the side of Emmitt, who, with his arms crossed, is rolling his eyes at Rick. “We’ve known that was going to happen since you got kicked off, Rick. I thought you didn’t care about our stupid team. Isn’t that what you said in the locker room the day Coach told you to get lost?”
The crowd makes some noises at that, and a few people back away from Emmitt. Rick moves closer and shoves him in the chest. “You think you can take my place? You… trash, man,” he slurs. “Canna play for shit. Gonna suck this year, just like las’ year.”
Emmitt’s look is gradually getting darker and darker, and I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be too long before he finally hauls off and punches Rick.
“Rick,” Emmitt snarls, “you think I give a crap what you say? Anyway, you and I both know you’re just pissed that I was outplaying you, and that I was going to get the starting position this year whether you were still on the team or not.” Now the music is no longer an upbeat dance track, and the loud heavy metal suddenly playing in the background sounds ominous, like a soundtrack in a bad movie.
Rick curses loudly. “My boys and I are gonna take you and your stupid party.” He glances to his left and sees me for the first time. “Starting with that pretty boy nephew of Morton’s.” Now he waves his beer bottle at me. “You think I dunno who you are? I always know,” he slurs.
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