How to Win at High School
Page 21
“Fuck you,” Adam says. “You can wheel yourself home.”
“Whatever,” Sam says. “Enjoy your night.”
He wheels past Adam. Bumps into, like, three sophomore girls and keeps going.
“Fuck it,” Adam says, watching him go. “Fucking cripple.”
322.
Sam’s halfway to the door when Rob Thigpen reappears.
Adam’s watching Sam wheel his way through the crowd. He doesn’t see Rob.
Rob’s dragging the college girl, Aimee, toward the alcohol. He doesn’t see Adam. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t care.
Either way, he bumps into Adam.
Hits him, not hard—
(certainly not hard enough to paralyze anyone)
—but hard enough to knock Adam off balance.
Adam turns. “What the fuck?”
Adam sees Rob and Aimee. Aimee’s holding Rob’s hand. She’s laughing. Rob’s laughing too.
(Everyone’s laughing.)
(Everyone’s always laughing.)
(No matter what Adam does, they never stop laughing.)
323.
Adam loses it.
Adam hits his breaking point.
Adam watches Rob Thigpen drag Aimee toward the booze—
(Adam’s booze)
(Adam’s girl)
(Adam’s god status, if Sam wasn’t such a cripple)
(if Rob Thigpen’s brother hadn’t made him that way)
—and Adam’s suddenly sick. Suddenly tired.
Adam’s suddenly mad.
He follows Rob Thigpen and Aimee through the crowd. Pushes his way toward them. Rob’s got his back turned when Adam arrives.
“Hey, fucker,” Adam says to him. Then he shoves him from behind.
324.
Rob stumbles. Nearly falls. Catches himself on a counter and pulls himself up. He turns around and sees Adam, and smiles.
It’s an unpleasant smile.
“Pizza Man,” he says. “What the fuck?”
Adam stares at him.
Adam knows this is wrong.
He knows this is suicide, what he’s about to do.
But Adam can’t help himself. This is for Sam.
325.
Actually, fuck it.
This is for Adam.
326.
Adam hits Rob.
(Cue record scratch.)
Adam hits Rob and the air is sucked out of the room.
Adam hits Rob and everybody shuts up.
Adam hits Rob and the party stops.
327.
Adam hits Rob and keeps hitting him.
(It’s like every last little slight
joke
insult
has been bottled up inside him and is now pouring
crashing
roiling
out.)
Adam keeps hitting Rob. He doesn’t explain himself. He hits Rob until his fists are bloody and sore and Rob’s flat on his back on the ground, shielding his face.
(Rob doesn’t fight back. Rob doesn’t have time. Rob’s taken off guard by the first punch, and Adam doesn’t slow down with the second
or the third
or, like, the eighteenth.)
Someone’s grabbing at Adam. Holding his arms, dragging him up and away from Rob Thigpen. Adam wrenches free. Adam goes after Rob again.
Someone screams.
(It could be Aimee.)
(It could be anybody.)
Rob’s laid out on the ground. His face is bruised. His nose is bloody. He’s not fighting back. Adam’s kicking his ass.
Somewhere inside, Adam realizes it feels good.
(Take that, you rich piece of shit.)
(Take that, you asshole.)
(Take this back to your brother, for ruining my life.)
Adam keeps hitting Rob Thigpen. Feels like his hands are breaking. His knuckles brush something, and he looks over and sees it.
A beer bottle, empty.
Adam reaches for it. Closes his fingers around it.
He raises the bottle above his head.
Above Rob Thigpen’s head.
328.
Someone grabs Adam before he can hit Rob with the bottle. It’s Brian.
“Adam.” Brian drags him away. “Jesus Christ, Adam, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“That fucker did it,” Adam tells him. “He fucking ruined my life. His brother’s the asshole who put Sam in a wheelchair.”
Brian pulls Adam back. “Calm down,” he tells Adam. “Just calm the fuck down, okay?”
Adam struggles loose. Starts toward Rob again. Brian grabs for him, and Adam comes around, swinging. Catches Brian square in the nose. Brian goes down, and Adam’s free again.
He turns back to Rob Thigpen, but it’s too late at this point. The whole party’s crowded around him—
(checking out the damage).
There’s no getting through. Whatever damage Adam planned for Rob, it’s been done. And anyway, security’s coming in through the door.
Another noise complaint.
The party is officially over. GTFO.
329.
Adam watches Paul Nolan and Alton Di Sousa drag Rob Thigpen out of the hotel room.
“Serves you right, asshole,” he calls out after Rob. “Your brother’s a cheap piece of shit and you know it.”
Rob Thigpen doesn’t answer. Nobody answers. They’re too busy getting the hell out of the hotel room before security calls the cops.
The room clears out fast. Paul and Alton take Rob Thigpen away. Aimee disappears. Tommy’s a ghost. Even Sam is gone. Brian struggles to his feet, holding his nose. He doesn’t look at Adam as he brushes past him.
“Dude.” Adam reaches out for him. “Dude, I’m sorry. I blacked out or something.”
Brian’s shirt is bloody. His nose is a mess. “Fuck off,” he tells Adam. Then he walks away.
Pretty soon, the room is empty. “I paid a thousand bucks for this room,” Adam tells the security guards. “I want a fucking refund for this.”
The guards look around the room. Then they look at Adam.
Then they laugh.
330.
Suicide.
(#ItsOver)
331.
“It wasn’t even Rob’s brother,” Steph says. “Jesus, Adam, it was, like, his cousin or something. Rob doesn’t even know the guy.”
Adam looks up from the kitchen table, where he’s icing his hands. His hands are sore and bruised black and swollen from the fight with Rob Thigpen.
(From the one-sided ass-kicking.)
(Adam’s still kind of proud.)
Adam looks at Steph. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It was a fucking Thigpen who did it. Rob had it coming, no matter how he’s related.”
Steph sighs. “I just don’t get it, Adam,” she says. “You worked so hard to be popular. Why the hell would you just throw it away?”
Adam goes back to the kitchen. Gets more ice for his hands. “I didn’t throw it away,” he tells Steph. “I’m bigger than that asshole.
“Nixon needs me,” Adam tells Steph. “You’ll see.”
332.
And she will.
They all will.
Nobody’s talking to Adam. Nobody wants to be friends. He’s used up his party invites, his daps and hugs in the hall. Those pretty Nixon girls have stopped throwing themselves at him.
(Even Brian won’t return Adam’s calls.)
Adam’s alone.
He lies awake nights and thinks about Scarface. It’s not a pleasant thought anymore. It doesn’t seem like such a good idea now. Tony Montana isn’t much of a hero, in the end.
(Spoiler alert: Tony Montana dies. It’s a really fucking chaotic, fantastic scene. Colombians. Assault rifles. “Say hello to my little friend.” You should probably watch it if you haven’t already.)
Adam doesn’t want to die. Adam doesn’t even want to be a god anymore. He’s through with winning. He just wants to take over. Sell
enough pills to move out of Remington Park and get an apartment with an eighty-inch TV and a stripper pole in the bedroom.
Victoria’s gone.
Sam won’t talk to him.
His grades are a sinking ship.
But the gods still need him. All of Nixon does.
(And fuck homework, at this point. It’s pills Nixon wants.)
(The machine keeps rolling.)
(Pizza Man won’t die.)
333.
Adam puts a blast on Facebook.
Pizza Man pill sale, he writes. Bargain prices. Buy now.
Then he sits back and waits for his phone to blow up.
334.
And it does.
There are enough kids at Nixon who think Rob Thigpen’s a dick.
A bunch of others who, frankly, don’t care.
(People want to score. The Pizza Man’s a good hookup. It’s just business, man. Everything else is bullshit.)
Adam logs a whack of solid orders. Then he picks up his phone and calls Tommy.
335.
“Shit, man,” Tommy says. “I heard you went dark at that party. Heard you kicked somebody’s ass pretty hard.”
“Some punk,” Adam tells him. “The bastard had it coming. Anyway, listen, I need a re-up.”
Tommy goes quiet. Adam coughs. “You there?”
“I’m here,” Tommy says. “I’m just— Dude, I’m thinking you might want to take a break for a while. What I heard about Jamal, he’s looking for you.”
“Fuck Jamal,” Adam tells him. “What is this, the movies? You have my supply or no?”
Tommy hesitates again. “I’m skipping town,” he says finally. “Getting a head start on summer vacation. Come by tomorrow morning—early—and I’ll set you up.”
“I’m bringing cash,” Adam tells him. “Give me all that you have.”
336.
Tomorrow morning.
Adam amasses every last dollar he has.
Figures, Tommy’s leaving town, this might be his last shot. Stock up on supply now, and go looking for a supplier.
Bypass Tommy.
Bypass Jamal.
Take over Nixon, one pill at a time.
337.
Only:
Adam needs a ride to Tommy’s. And Brian’s still not picking up his phone.
(What Adam figures, Brian might never answer that phone again, if he knows it’s Adam calling.)
(Which is fine. Adam was starting to resent paying the guy 50 percent just for driving.)
(But now Adam doesn’t have a driver.)
(And people want their pills.)
(The customer is always right.)
(Right?)
Adam finds the bus schedule on Google. Tommy’s place is two bus rides from Remington Park. Adam figures he can get up early, head to Tommy’s on the first bus, and still make it back to Nixon in time for second period.
It all works. Except:
Jessie McGill has a chem assignment she needs back. And Paul Nolan’s history paper is due too.
(Even if the gods hate Adam, they’re still paying him, right?)
Both jobs need to close out before school starts tomorrow. No way Adam can make it to the west side and back in time. Not if he’s taking the bus.
Luckily:
Wayne’s mom has a car.
Wayne can drive.
338.
Except Wayne can’t drive.
“Sorry, dude,” he says. “My mom’s going to Detroit tomorrow. Needs her car all day.”
“Crap,” Adam says. “Thanks anyway.”
“Maybe on Wednesday, though?”
“Wednesday’s not soon enough,” Adam says. “Thanks anyway.”
339.
At first, Adam’s like:
I’ll just, like, rent a freaking car.
(Or steal one.)
(Or borrow one.)
(Or buy one.)
But nobody’s going to give Adam a car on such short notice. Especially since he only has his learner’s permit.
So then, Adam’s like:
What the hell, let the customers wait for their pills. Who cares?
But Adam’s not in the business of disappointing his customers. Not after the Rob Thigpen debacle.
(His girlfriend? Sure. His employees? Why not? His friends and family? Duh. But never the customers.)
(Anyway, who knows how long Tommy’s skipping town?)
Adam needs a driver.
Today.
340.
“Wanna cut class?” Adam asks George Dubois.
It’s the next morning. Adam gives Paul and Jessie their assignments back, and George is there, too, running a couple of sophomore English papers through Adam for approval. And Adam looks at George, and thinks for a minute—
(not long enough)
—and then he pops the question.
“I need to get to the west side of town,” he tells George. “Just for, like, twenty minutes.”
George frowns. “You can’t go at lunch?”
“I need to get there this morning,” Adam tells him. “I need to go now.”
“So, I don’t get it,” George says. “What do you need me for?”
“Your mom drives to school, right?” Adam says. “Can you get her keys?”
341.
Turns out George has a spare key to his mom’s Buick in his back pocket. And George is ready to roll.
“Holy shit,” he says. “You’re making a drug deal? This is so gangster.”
“It’s just a re-up,” Adam tells him. “It’s not really that glamorous.”
“How much are you buying?” George asks him. “Can I see the money?”
Adam looks around. Unzips his backpack and gives George a peek. “Holy shit,” George says, his eyes wide. “How much is in there?”
(All of it, is the answer.)
“Enough to buy enough pills to put us both in jail,” Adam says. “So keep your mouth shut. You sure your mom won’t miss the car?”
“She has a meeting first period,” George says. “She won’t even know.”
“Excellent,” Adam says. “So let’s go.”
342.
The deal plays without incident. Tommy’s bags are already packed. His apartment is empty. He looks like he’s itching to leave.
“Little vacation,” he tells Adam and George. “You know how it goes.”
Adam looks around. “Looks like you’re leaving for good.”
“Maybe,” Tommy says. “Who knows?”
“Where are you going?” George asks him. He’s giddy, nervous, bouncing around. Tommy just looks at him.
(George is the wrong guy for a drug deal.)
“Anyway.” Tommy pulls out a bag. A big bag. It’s filled with about fifteen smaller bags of pills. “Here’s the stuff,” he says. “You run out, I got a number you can call. Just don’t let Jamal catch you.”
“He’s not going to catch me,” Adam tells him. He takes the bag. Stuffs it into his backpack. Hands over the money.
“Have a nice trip,” Adam tells him.
343.
“Dude, you gotta calm down,” Adam tells George as they walk back to the car. “You couldn’t be more suspicious if you were wearing an ‘I’m a Drug Dealer’ T-shirt.”
“I’m sorry, man,” George says. “I’m just, like, excited. This is the most badass thing I ever did in my life.”
They’re crossing the street to the parking lot where they left the Buick. George is still bouncing around. “I wish I was you, man,” he says. “I bet it gets easier. Does it get easier?”
Adam’s about to tell him, yeah, it gets easier. Yeah, this stuff is simple. Then Adam sees a cream-colored Lexus pull into the lot ahead of them.
“No,” Adam says. “It never does.”
344.
The Lexus parks at the other end of the lot. The doors open and two men climb out. One of them is Jamal. The other guy should be an offensive lineman.
“Hurry up.” Adam grabs George,
pulls him toward the Buick. “Get in the car and start driving.”
George is pissing himself. “Who is that?”
“Nobody,” Adam tells him. “Let’s go.”
They book it for the car.
They don’t make it.
Jamal intercepts them ten feet from the Buick. Grabs Adam and George by the collars and practically lifts them off their feet. “Whoa,” he says. “Slow down, little homies.”
He turns them around, one meaty paw apiece. He’s grinning a great-white-shark grin.
“Holy shit,” George says. “What the hell is happening?”
“Just be cool,” Adam tells him.
“Yeah,” Jamal says. “Just be cool, man. I just want to talk to you.”
He grins at Adam. “Adam, right?”
Adam shrugs. Tries to look mean. Tries not to look like he’s a half second away from pissing himself.
(Actually, scratch that. Adam isn’t really scared, per se. I mean, of course he’s scared. You find yourself face-to-face with a guy like Jamal and tell me you aren’t scared. But fear isn’t the overriding emotion here. No way. Not by a long shot. What Adam’s feeling most here is . . .
Anger.
Anger at himself for letting them get caught.
Anger at George for not running to the Buick fast enough.
Anger at Jamal for showing up outside Tommy’s, of all places.
Anger at the whole goddamn universe, pretty much. For fucking him over.
For not letting him win.)
Jamal looks at George. “And who the fuck are you?”
“I don’t know,” George says. “I’m just George. I don’t know anything, I swear.”
“Shut up,” Adam tells him. “Let me handle this.”