by Kieran Scott
“You haven’t even touched your beer,” Leo pointed out, sucking down his own. “I paid for that, you know.”
I’d been hoping against hope that no one would notice that. My life was over. I was failing miserably at this. I was uncool and I was never going to convince Cameron otherwise. I had to just accept it.
“That’s mine,” Cameron said.
He reached for my bottle and took a big swallow. When he put it down again, he smiled at me with his back to Leo. My insides went all warm and gooey. For a moment, I even forgot where I was. I wished Robbie could have seen that. Shallow my ass. Cameron was as chivalrous as Robbie Delano any day.
“Whatever. You’re up,” Leo said to me.
I slid down from my stool awkwardly. Glanced at the door. The coast was still clear. Maybe my father had already gone home. Maybe he’d skipped O’Reilly’s that night. Maybe, just maybe, luck was on my side today. Cameron picked out a pool cue and handed it to me.
“You know what you’re doing?” he asked.
“Not really,” I replied. “Or, at all.”
“Here. Let me help you,” Cameron said. “Hold it like this.”
He moved his fingers over mine. His hands were soft and warm, and suddenly my mind was swimming. “Now, you want to try to hit the cue ball into that red ball over there and get it into the corner pocket,” he instructed. “So bend over the table and line it up, like this.”
He put his arm around me and got behind me, nudging me into a bend. He was so very, very warm and close, and he was breathing in my ear. The stale beer smell of the bar faded away, replaced by the clean leather and spicy-soap scent of him.
I really thought I might faint.
“Get really close and try to line up the angle,” he instructed. My whole side tingled at the proximity of his voice to my ear. I squinted one eye closed and tried to concentrate on the ball. It was extremely difficult with Cameron Richardson’s hip pressed against my backside.
“Okay, now pull the cue back.”
He guided my arm with his hand.
“Now you want to pop it forward and follow through,” he said. “Try to hit the ball right in the center.”
“Okay.” I wondered if he could tell my voice was trembling in two syllables.
“Okay, ready?” he said. I somehow managed to nod. “Go for it.”
I did. And the tip of the cue hit the table and the white ball bounced half an inch forward and stopped. Leo cracked up laughing.
“Well. That sucked,” I said, embarrassed.
“Uh, no shit,” Leo said mirthfully. Jackass.
Cameron stood up and moved away. It was all I could do to keep from pulling him back. “Nah. It was just your first time. You’ll get the hang of it. You just gotta practice, like anything else.”
“Thanks,” I said, grinning. He wasn’t mocking me. He was being sweet. See? I knew this boy was different. The door opened again and I held my breath. It was just a couple of people leaving.
“So, how’re we doing over here?” Tama asked, sauntering up to Leo and slinging her arm over his shoulders. She’d been in the bathroom for the last ten minutes. “Are we winning?”
“We got this one in the bag, baby,” Leo said, leaning into her for a kiss.
A kiss that was way too long and gross to be just a kiss next to a pool table. Cameron looked at me and widened his eyes, and I smirked. It was like we were sharing a personal joke.
“So, Leo,” Cameron said when their lips finally unlocked. “What’s up with you, man? You still working at your dad’s shop?”
“For now,” Leo said with a shrug.
Tama, who had leaned in to take her shot at the table, paused. “What do you mean, for now?”
Leo glanced at me and Cameron, then shifted his feet. Nervously. Uh-oh. Something not good was about to happen here. “Actually, I’ve been filling out some applications,” he announced. “For next year.”
“Excuse me?”
Tama stood up and tossed her pool cue on the table. Balls raced everywhere. Game over. Cameron and I both moved instinctively toward the wall. My heart started pounding sickly, not unlike the feeling I got when my father started up a fight with my mom. I looked at the door again. It was closed.
“I’m, uh, thinking about maybe going to school next year,” he said. “I’ve been putting away some money and—”
“You’ve been putting away some money?” Tama blurted. “For how long? How long have you been planning this behind my back?”
“This is not good,” Cameron said to me under his breath.
“Why did he decide to tell her this now?” I whispered back.
“Uh, because he’s a moron?” Cameron joked.
“I’m not doing it behind your back,” Leo replied. “I just told you about it.”
“Yeah, when all your applications are already done. What were you going to do, just leave town and not even tell me?” she blurted. “Since when do you make decisions like this without me? God, Leo, you can be such a little—”
“Tama! Chill!” Leo shouted. So loud it startled me. “I haven’t made a decision yet. I’m just keeping my options open. And maybe I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be a total bitch about it.”
“Oooooh,” a couple of guys at the next table sang.
Tama looked at them, then at me and Cameron, as if just realizing she was in a public place. A public place where we were two of the only five women. A public place where the bartender was eyeing us menacingly and reaching for something behind the counter. The phone? A bat? Didn’t matter. I suddenly wanted to be far away from here all over again.
I looked up at Cameron, wondering how far that chivalry of his would extend. “Cameron? Maybe we should—”
“Go? Yeah. I can find us a way home.”
Thank God. Cameron grabbed our stuff and we started for the door. In two seconds I was going to be out of this nightmare—out of danger of bumping into my dad—and alone with Cameron on a Friday night. I could practically taste the freedom. The possibility.
“You want bitch? I’ll give you bitch,” Tama said as we slipped by. Quickly, shakily, she gathered up her things. “We’re out of here! You can go home by yourself tonight!”
“Fine!” Leo shouted.
“Fine!” she replied. She grabbed my wrist. “Come on, KJ. We’ve got a party to go to.”
I looked at Cameron, desperate.
“But Tama, I—”
“Come on, KJ!” she said through her teeth.
She begged me silently with her eyes. It was a female solidarity thing. Leave no woman behind. I shot Cameron an apologetic look.
“I guess I’m going,” I said morosely.
“Yes. You are.” Tama yanked me away toward the door and I tripped forward.
“But what about—”
“Cameron’s a big boy. He can get home on his own,” Tama snapped.
I paused, stalling for time as I pulled my coat on. “I guess I’ll . . . see you on Monday?” I said.
“Yeah. I guess,” he replied.
We looked at each other for a long moment. Something in his eyes made me feel warm all over. I wanted to say something cool, but was at a total loss. What if this was it? What if I never got a chance to hang out with him outside of school again? There had to be some way to end this night well.
“KJ! Let’s go!” Tama shouted.
Then she grabbed my arm and tore me away from Cameron and out into the cold, where we found ourselves face-to-face with my father.
ACT TWO, SCENE EIGHTEEN
In which:
TAMA FINDS OUT
HIS EYES SWAM IN HIS SOCKETS. HE LOOKED AT ME. LOOKED AT the glowing green sign over O’Reilly’s front door. Looked at me again. My heart slammed around in my chest. For a split second I thought about just running. He was already so drunk, maybe he wouldn’t even realize it was me. Maybe we could make a quick getaway and I could deny it all in the morning. He’d think he just dreamt it. Or imagined it. Yes. That w
as it. Just go. But then, Tama spoke.
“Mr. Miller?”
He blinked. Fire lighted his eyes. Suddenly he knew exactly who I was, and exactly what was going on.
“Katie Jean? What the hell—?”
He went to grab the handrail on the side of the wheelchair ramp and missed it, falling sideways into it before straightening himself out. My heart turned with embarrassment. I looked at Tama. Tama, who quite obviously understood exactly the state he was in.
“We were just leaving,” I said to him. I took Tama’s hand and tried to get around him—to get out of here before this got any worse—but he reached out and grabbed my arm.
“You’re seventeen! You’re not supposed to be here!” he said, his eyes wild.
I looked up at him. Was he more pissed that I was underage drinking (which I was not), or that I had just caught him red-handed?
“I know. That’s why we’re leaving,” I said flatly.
“Don’t take that tone with me, Katie Jean! You are in a world of trouble right now!” he roared, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. “We are going home right now and we’re going to discuss this.”
His keys dropped on the ground with a clatter. He crouched down to grope for them blindly. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Not in front of Tama. Not now when Cameron could walk out the door at any second. Hot tears burned my eyes. I felt as if my head was about to explode from the throbbing. Something was squeezing my throat. Squeezing all the air out of me.
The hatred bubbling up inside of me was so fierce, so hot, it frightened even me. I wanted to hit him. Wanted to kill him. Wanted him dead, dead, dead so I wouldn’t have to feel this way ever again.
“KJ. KJ! Ow!” Tama whined. She tore her hand from mine and I realized I was squeezing her fingers to pulp.
“Let’s go,” my father said, standing finally. Unsteadily. He took my arm again. Started to lead me across the parking lot. My heart pounding, I looked back at Tama. She looked scared. Uncertain. I had never seen her look that way. Ever. I had to stop this.
“Dad, no!” I cried, ripping my arm away from him. It took him a second to stop walking, and by that point I’d backed up, all the way to Tama. Tears of fear and anger spilled down my cheeks as I glared at him. Tama clung to the sleeve of my jacket. “No. I’m not going with you!” I yelled at him.
“Oh yes you are,” my father shouted, red with rage.
He took a step toward us and I backed up more, taking Tama with me.
“No! I’m not! You’re drunk!” I screeched, doubled over slightly, my stomach knots so tight they were dragging me down. “You’ll kill both of us! I don’t care if you kill yourself, but I am not getting into the car with you!”
“What did you just say to me?” my father roared. “Get back here! Get back here right now, Katie Jean!”
“No!” I shouted. “No!” And then I turned around and, half blinded by tears, started to run.
ACT TWO, SCENE NINETEEN
In which:
I LOSE IT
I SQUEEZED MY EYES SHUT IN THE BACK OF THE CAB, TRYING TO squeeze out the image of my father. His red face. His staggering. His fury. It kept coming back to me in waves. The humiliation. The anger. The embarrassment. Every time a new detail shoved itself into my brain—his swimming eyes, his imbalance, his groping for his keys—I had to close my eyes, clutch my fists, will it away.
I hated him. I hated him so much. Why couldn’t he just go away? He obviously didn’t care about us at all. Why couldn’t he just leave us? Just get the hell out of our lives. Why did I have to live like this? Why?
“God. And I thought my family was whacked,” Tama said lightly.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I snapped.
She raised her hands in surrender. Like I was so out of line. And I instantly felt guilty. Horrible. Stupid. She was never going to speak to me again after this, was she? Now that she knew what a freak show my family was. And she’d probably tell Cameron, too. Unless he already knew. Unless he’d witnessed the whole thing out the window.
My eyes squeezed shut again as my heart seized with pain.
No. No, please, no.
“We’re here,” Tama said.
The cab brakes squeaked. I looked out the window at Fred’s one-story house. The sad helium balloons on the mailbox. This night had started out full of possibility and now, here we were, back at Geek Central with no Cameron. And just down the street, my house, where if my father didn’t pass out the second he got home, he’d be waiting for me.
Tama paid the cabdriver. “Let’s go.”
As we approached the door, my heart was still pounding around all shallow and fast. I could hardly breathe. I was trembling from the exertion. From the embarrassment. From the fear of what might happen when I got home.
Calm down, KJ. Maybe seeing Steph and Robbie will help. Just relax. Your friends are right inside.
Fred’s mother let us in. I tromped down the steps to the basement behind Tama. I could hear “You’re the One That I Want” playing at a low volume, but something was off. When I hit the basement floor, I realized what it was. The music was the only noise. No voices, no laughter, no singing along to anything. Why? Because there was no one there. No one except Robbie, Steph, Andy, Glenn and Fred. They were all sitting on the corduroy couch, looking bored, watching Grease.
“KJ! You’re here!” Fred exclaimed, jumping out of his seat and rushing to my side. “Are you okay? Do you want something to drink?”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, pulling away from him.
“No you’re not. You look pale,” he said. “You’re still sick. You should sit.”
He took my wrist and tried to pull me toward his vacated seat on the couch.
“I’m not sick, all right? I was out with Tama and Cameron,” I said, snatching my arm back.
Fred looked crestfallen. “What?”
“KJ—” Stephanie said in that admonishing tone of hers.
“What? What’s the big deal?” I asked, my blood boiling.
“On the night of my party?” Fred asked, pouting. “But you said you were coming! You promised you were going to be here!”
More expectations. More accusations. I felt as if the walls of the basement were closing in on me.
“Fred, I’m sorry, all right?” I said, trying to get control of my heart. “At least I’m here now.”
“Yeah, like two hours late!” Fred cried, raising his voice. Raising his voice to me for the first time ever. I felt as if I’d just been slapped. My eyes burned as I looked at the others. At Stephanie and Robbie and Glenn and Andy and their accusing faces.
“What’s the big freaking deal?” I shouted back. “Obviously I’m not the only person who didn’t come. Why don’t you call all of them up and yell at them!?” I said, throwing my hand out at the empty room.
“KJ!” Stephanie stood up, her expression appalled. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Yeah, KJ. Calm down,” Robbie added.
“Why are you all ganging up on me?” I cried, backing toward the wall. “It’s not my fault nobody’s here. It’s not my fault your party is so totally lame!” I shouted at Fred. “Why do you have to put everything on me? I wanted to go out with Cameron Richardson tonight, all right? For once I did what I wanted instead of feeling bad for you and putting your crap ahead of me. I’m sorry if that upsets you, Fred, but I’m sick and tired of always protecting your feelings!”
“Protecting my feelings?” Fred repeated dumbly.
“Yes! All those times you followed me around, hid out in my car, jumped all over me in the cafeteria or the hall or the theater! All those times I bit my tongue, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t take having to deal with your little gifts and your poor, pathetic puppy-dog eyes anymore. I quit! As of this moment, I’m done!” I rambled, hardly even aware of what I was saying. “And you!” I cried, reeling on Andy. “Enough with the survey questions, all right? I’m on to your experiment and I don’t like you that way.
I don’t like any of you that way!” I added, looking at Glenn and Fred. “So you can stop staring at me and stop following me around and just . . . just . . . stop!”
For a long moment, no one said a word. On the TV screen behind me, the cast of Grease ramalamalam-ed away. Robbie and Stephanie stared at me like they’d just seen my eyeballs implode. Tama had her hand over her mouth, but I couldn’t tell if she was laughing or appalled. And suddenly, the weight of what I had said started to sink in on me.
