Kryptonite

by Lesley Choyce

  He seemed to cool right down. “Sure.”

  When I brought him his drink, he invited me to sit down at his table. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

  I explained that I’d been coming into Bonner’s for a while but that I was usually gone by this time.

  “It’s a wise man who gets to bed early,” he said with a kind of sarcasm in his voice.

  I’d listened in on bar conversations long enough now to know how to get Bryce going with small talk. I knew he was sizing me up the whole time, and I grew more and more curious about what his game was. I was pretty sure he wasn’t a random guy in a bar. He was here on some kind of mission.

  I watched the way other people in the bar looked at him. Some of them smiled at him in a mysterious way. Some of the small talk sounded like there was a coded message underneath. Like they were all in on something, like they were part of some secret club.

  I knew I just needed to hang in there, to wait it out and be patient. I had a feeling that soon I’d learn what Bryce was up to.

  Chapter Ten

  So I had found Bryce and met him face-to-face. But I wasn’t about to tell Abby right away. I was good at keeping secrets, and I knew that if this was all going to work out for me, I needed to get Abby more interested in me. This “friend” thing was driving me nuts. So I took her out on a real date. I borrowed money from my father to do it. Some fathers would probably have said no, but my dad was hardly ever around. And I didn’t ask him for much. So maybe he felt guilty that he didn’t spend enough time with his son. I could work that. And did.

  So I had a hundred bucks to take a girl to dinner at a fancy restaurant. I chose one called The Bistro. She was suitably impressed.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “Doing what?”

  “This place. This meal.”

  “It’s just what I do,” I lied. “You’re special to me, and I want to get to know you better.”

  Abby smiled a sweet smile. “Okay, ask me anything.”

  I hadn’t quite expected her to come around so fast. But this was good. “Okay, how did you get the job at the store if you had a criminal record?”

  “Mr. Striker. He’s Mr. Do-Good. My uncle talked to him. Striker knew all about what happened. And he was willing to take the chance. Maybe that’s partly why I felt I had to chase you down.”

  “I’m still glad you did that,” I said, motioning to the waiter that we were ready. When he came over, I ordered the beef bourguignon for both of us. My father, the big shot, had coached me on what to order to impress a girl. It seemed to be working.

  “How did you get to be like this?” Abby asked once the waiter had headed to the kitchen.

  “Like what?”

  “So confident.”

  “Practice,” I said.

  “I’ve only ever met one other person who is like that.”

  I frowned while I took a sip of my water. “Let me guess.”

  Abby laughed. “It’s like you can read my mind,” she said. She closed her eyes. “What am I thinking now?”

  I set my glass down and pretended to clear my thoughts. “You’re thinking how lucky you are to be sitting in a fancy restaurant with such a charming and good-looking guy.” I was laying it on pretty thick.

  Abby laughed again and then grew serious. “Do you ever feel that life is passing you by? That if you don’t reach out and grab something, it’s all going to just zip by and before you know it you’ll be old and dull and eventually dead?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that one. I took a chance and decided to just tell her the truth. “No,” I said, “not really. If I want something, I just do it. Whatever it takes. I don’t let anything get in the way.”

  “Then what is it you really want?”

  I guess I’d been waiting for a line like that, something to push the game a bit further.

  “I want you,” I finally said.

  She looked in my eyes for a brief second but then started laughing. “No,” she said, “I mean really.”

  Damn. I had to recover, so I smiled and shrugged, pretending I had just been joking. There was an awkward moment of silence and then Abby sighed and said, “I wish Bryce could be here.” Double damn.

  After our night out, I grew even more curious about Abby’s fatal attraction to Bryce Winston. What exactly did he have going for him that kept Abby on the hook?

  On my next trip to Bonner’s, I sat alone at a table, draining my glass of beer a little too quickly. Bryce walked in and surprised me by sliding into the seat across from me. “Looks like you need another round,” he said. “It’s on me.”

  I nodded and said thanks. He snapped his fingers, and the server took his order and promptly brought us the beers. “You know, Jackson, you look kind of young to be in a place like this. What’s your story?”

  I had planned a number of potential lies about who I was, but when I looked at Bryce, I saw this intense look in his eyes. I guess you could say I felt his strength—his psychological strength. It was a bit overpowering, this intensity, and I immediately knew it had something to do with what had hooked Abby. Bryce was a force of nature.

  I decided I couldn’t pull off just any bullshit story. I’d tell him the truth. Or, at least, part of it.

  I showed him my ID. “It’s fake,” I said. “I’m still in high school.”

  Bryce studied the ID. “This is good work,” he said, looking back up at me. “I guess I just broke the law by buying a minor a beer.”

  “Guess you did,” I said. I slid my glass toward him. “Worried?”

  Bryce just smiled. “Hell no. Good on ya. I knew there was something different about you. This place is usually full of all kinds of losers. You’re not one of them. That’s why you seemed…well, interesting.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But if this place is full of losers, why do you hang out here?”

  He took a moment to reply. “I guess you could say I need the social contacts for business purposes.”

  It seemed odd he said it that way because it sounded so much like something my father would say. I just nodded. It was way too soon to ask him anything more about that.

  Bryce changed the subject, and we ended up talking about sports—football and basketball. I didn’t really follow any of the teams he mentioned, but I knew the drill. I could keep the conversation flowing in a lively way by prompting him with the right questions. Call it male bonding.

  By around ten, I knew I had to get out of there and get myself home. When Bryce offered me a ride home, I suddenly got a little suspicious. Was the guy gay and trying to hit on me?

  But it wasn’t anything like that. I accepted the ride. He had a pretty expensive-looking new car—a Honda. As he drove, he told me he was going to be out of town for a few days. When I asked him where he was going, he told me, “Mexico. A little R and R. But I’m going to check in with you when I get back. Maybe talk to you about being part of my team. Business, ya know.”

  I decided not to ask him too much about his “team” or his “business.” I played it cool and gave him my cellphone number. I had him drop me off at a house two blocks away from mine.

  Chapter Eleven

  I liked the game I was playing. I kept Abby in the dark about my meetings with Bryce. I wasn’t at all sure how this was going to play out, but I knew that if I was going to keep Abby in my life, then my “search” for Bryce would have to continue.

  And, strange as it sounds, I was really intrigued by this guy. Mexico sounded like drugs to me. What would it be? I thought probably weed or possibly cocaine. I did some Internet research, though, and discovered that all kinds of drugs were being concocted in Mexico and smuggled into the country.

  At school I went through the motions. I could bullshit my way through some of the tests. Sometimes I could look up answers on my phone, if I was really careful. I cleverly patched together an essay from bits an
d pieces on the Internet without Mr. Carmichael catching on. This made me feel a bit more confident about school and about myself. In fact, I liked this little game I was playing with Carmichael and wondered how far I could take it.

  I didn’t bother with Bonner’s. I waited.

  Five days after Bryce had dropped me off, he sent me a text.

  Meet me at Bonner’s tonight. 8:30

  I began to wonder if I was getting myself into serious trouble. I mean, look what Bryce had done to Abby. The guy was trouble with a capital T. But I was pretty sure I knew where to draw the line. Besides, other than Abby, Bryce was the most interesting thing that had happened to me lately.

  Bryce looked tanned and pleased with himself. When I walked into Bonner’s, he was talking to a young woman, flirting with her, I supposed. As I approached he brushed her off and asked me to sit down.

  “How was Mexico?” I asked.

  “Fine indeed,” he said. “And school? How is that going for you?”

  “Fuck off,” I said playfully, knowing he was just goofing with me.

  Then Bryce leaned forward across the table. “Jackson, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s a very interesting world we live in right now,” he said. Playing the philosopher.

  “How so?”

  “Well, it’s just that there seem to be so many…” He paused and looked up at the ceiling, pretending to search for the right word. “So many…opportunities.”

  I nodded. But he must have detected a look of suspicion on my face.

  He smiled that classic smile of his. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “But you don’t get the full picture.”

  I lied and said, “I wasn’t thinking anything. I’m intrigued. Mexico. Opportunities. I’m just curious to hear the rest.”

  “Well,” he said, taking a sip of some dark drink in front of him, “I like to be up front with everyone, especially my friends. You don’t mind if I consider you my friend, do ya?”

  “Not at all,” I said. I myself had used that fake friendship line on people before. In fact, it went all the way back to my lunch-money days. I was a bit disappointed. I’d thought Bryce was more sophisticated than that.

  Bryce continued. “I guess it’s safe to say I haven’t always been on the right side of the law. Mostly foolish stuff. Childish really. Scamming people. Or walking into people’s houses and walking out with whatever I could get my hands on. Selling the occasional illegal substance.”

  Bryce studied me for a reaction. I certainly didn’t show any shock. He must have seen a hint of a knowing smile.

  “Oh, you thought you had me pegged already, didn’t you?”

  “Not really,” I lied. Again.

  “Bullshit,” said Bryce, still smiling. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. Jackson, you have to understand, I get a certain read on people the second I meet them. And my read on you is this. You and I are a lot alike.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean, we see what we want and we go for it. We don’t let anything get in our way.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I let Bryce buy me a couple of beers. Maybe that was a mistake. He rattled on about some of the “adventures” in his life, and in each story it was like Bryce was the good guy, the hero. He always kept drawing me in, saying things like, “You know what it’s like.”

  After a bit I said, “So tell me about Mexico.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” He straightened his back and looked me in the eye. “As you might have guessed, it was a little business deal. Well, not little but rather grand, really. I got wind of a new concoction.”

  “Drugs?” I whispered.

  “Guess you knew it was something like that. But here’s the kicker. Not drugs, plural, but a particular drug. A new one. Cheap to produce, cheap to buy, and it’s not even illegal.”

  I had always steered clear of drugs. Not sure why—just some gut instinct about not losing myself, not losing control. So I didn’t know much about getting high, but I didn’t want to look naïve. “Is this shit any good?”

  “This shit will blow your head off.”

  “Why Mexico?”

  “Because that’s where I can get the best price. No one else around here has the stuff yet. I got in early in the game.”

  “What is it?”

  “On the street it’s called kryptonite.”

  “Like Superman?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But I thought kryptonite made Superman powerless.”

  “Jackson, it’s just a name. Besides, we’re not living in a comic-book story. Follow the thread here. Kryptonite is cheap. It’s powerful. People want it. Currently I’m the only one around here bringing it in. And, like I said, it’s not even illegal. It’s the perfect setup. But I know it can’t last. That’s why I’ve got to keep things moving as fast as I can. Supply and demand. Get in. Get out. Do you see now?”

  My father once told me there is no such thing as a deal that is too good to be true. And my father, when it comes to “deals,” is pretty much always right. And despite the buzz brought on by a couple of beers, I wasn’t dumb enough to think that Bryce wasn’t trying to use me. Before the night was over, he told me I could get in on the action if I wanted. “Because I like you, Jackson,” he said. “You’re smart, and I trust you. So why not share the wealth?”

  Yeah, share the wealth. That’s what he really said.

  I swallowed hard, thinking twice about what I was going to say. I decided that I’d go along. If things got weird, I would bail out quick. But if he was telling the truth, and the drug was not illegal, then what did I have to lose?

  “Count me in,” I said. “What do I need to do?”

  Bryce nodded. “I knew you’d be game. Smart move. Why don’t we start with a little delivery?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bryce offered me a ride home again. When we stopped in front of the house that wasn’t mine, he handed me a small cardboard box and gave me an address to memorize. “Drop it off there tomorrow on your way to school.” He then handed me a one-hundred-dollar bill.

  I wanted to ask him why he didn’t just do it himself but decided to play along. It’s funny, but at that point I had almost forgotten about Abby, the reason I was involved with this guy in the first place.

  Up in my room, the first thing I did was google kryptonite. It took a while to get past the Superman references, but eventually I found it. The street name for a new drug going around that had first surfaced in California and now was spreading. There was a long name for the chemical compound. Police and doctors had already published concerns about the health risks. But if what I was reading was true and up-to-date, it was not currently illegal.

  I sent Abby a quick text saying I was still thinking about her and hoped we could get together soon. She texted back within minutes and said she’d been thinking about what a helpful “friend” I’d been, that she’d never known anyone like me and, oh yes, was I making any progress in finding Bryce?

  Maybe a wise person would have flushed the contents of the little box down the toilet, forgotten about the crazy girl and just gone to sleep. But not me.

  I was wide awake, annoyed at Abby for her obsession, and I decided to find out what this kryptonite was all about. I carefully opened the taped box and found a heavy-duty ziplock bag of a brown crystalline substance. Bryce had said it would rip your head off.

  I opened the bag. It smelled sweet. I wet my finger and dipped it into the crystals. It tasted sweet. I waited for a reaction. Nothing. I dipped my finger again and took a little more. It looked and tasted like brown sugar. I tried a little more, then sealed up the bag, put it back in the box and stashed it in my sock drawer.

  I expected some kind of effect, but all I did was get drowsy and fall asleep with my clothes on. The next morning I couldn’t decide what I thought about this new drug, if it was a drug at all. But I did what
Bryce asked me. I took it to the address I had memorized.

  When I rang the doorbell there, a hairy, twenty-something guy in a T-shirt and baggy pants opened the door. I had obviously woken him up. He squinted in the morning sun as I said, “This is for you” and handed him the little box. He didn’t seem to know what it was all about but didn’t say anything as he accepted it. He closed the door, and I walked away. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, but I was all alone. Job done.

  School was school, and I couldn’t keep my mind focused on my work. Abby. Bryce. Kryptonite. What next?

  Mr. Carmichael stopped me in the hall. “You all right, Jackson? You look a little tired.” He seemed genuinely concerned.

  “Yeah, I guess I am. Not getting enough sleep, I suppose.”

  “Jackson, about that last paper of yours.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I couldn’t nail it down, but I am pretty sure you were still fudging it. I think you’ve figured out a way to use other people’s words from various sources, run it through an online thesaurus and end up with an essay that is still not your own work.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  Mr. Carmichael studied me and shook his head. “What I can’t figure out is, if you’re willing to put so much effort into coming up with a sophisticated plagiarized essay, why don’t you just write the damn essay yourself? It would be a lot less work!”

  I met his intense gaze eye to eye and didn’t look away. Carmichael was still shaking his head but smiling. “You’re a puzzle, Jackson. A really complicated puzzle.”

  He left me thinking about his question. Why did I go to all that trouble to cheat in some clever way rather than just doing the work?

  Chapter Fourteen

  When I walked out into the bright sunlight at the end of the school day, there was Bryce in his shiny black Honda, parked across the street. I had a sudden fear that if Bryce was showing up in broad daylight in our town, Abby might see him. Then what? I’d lose my role in this little game, and I’d be history.