* * *
Hannah stopped Davidek after school that day, ambushing him beside his bus. “I’d like you to stop picking fights with Smitty.”
Davidek shrugged her off. “Or else what? You gonna print up some photos? And why do you care about Smitty? He’s a big boy.”
She grabbed his arm as he tried to walk way. “What’s your problem? Why start something with him? Don’t you have enough people out to kick your ass?”
Davidek squinted impatiently. “That day, the rainstorm … He fucking rammed Stein from the back. From the back. For no reason. Stein had enough shit that day. He didn’t need that.”
“Smitty had reason,” she said.
“Whatever…,” Davidek said, and pulled away.
“Stein was gonna do something he’d have regretted, Playgirl!” Hannah shouted after him. “Anyone could see that. Mullen and Simms are dumb-asses, but they didn’t deserve what he—”
Davidek turned back on her. “They deserved worse. And you weren’t even around. What the hell do you know about anything?”
“I knew it before he even walked into school that day. All those people with the red scars. Of course he’d go after the two who caused it. Actually, I thought he might go after his little girlfriend, too. Let’s face it—your friend was psycho. Sorry. And Smitty says he showed you the steel bar.”
Davidek didn’t respond. Hannah said, “What if he’d shot or stabbed them or something?”
“He didn’t have a gun,” Davidek said, irritated by her implication.
“But he could have. So, fine, he had some iron bar instead. And Smitty took it off him. Where would your friend be if those two losers were lying brain-dead in the parking lot?”
“I don’t know. Couldn’t be much worse than where he is now.”
“Whatever,” Hannah laughed. “Your angry pal with the big sad story smashes some toilets and gets expelled. At least he’s sitting out the school year at home instead of jail, right?”
She paced toward her Jeep, then whirled back at Davidek. “Smitty had reason to go after him. And I’m the reason, okay? I’m the one who thought something bad might happen and I told Smitty to watch you and Stein, to follow him around that day. To make sure nothing happened that couldn’t unhappen—do you understand? Smitty did you and your fucked-up friend a favor. So try thanking him instead of giving him needless shit, okay?”
The bus driver called out to Davidek: “On or off, buddy?”
Davidek shifted his book bag on his shoulder. “So Smitty just does what you tell him?” he asked Hannah. “And why would he do that?”
The wind played in Hannah’s fiery hair. “Because I know his secret, too,” she said. Hannah was turning the key in her Jeep’s ignition when Davidek opened the door and got in. “Thanks,” he said.
“For what?”
“For watching out for Stein when I wasn’t,” he said. The yellow school bus passed in front of the Jeep’s windshield. “And for giving me a ride home,” Davidek added. “No detours this time.”
* * *
“Are you going to come to the prom for me?” Hannah asked as the neighborhoods of Natrona Heights rolled by outside the Jeep.
Davidek said unhappily, “Why, you need a date?”
She laughed, brushing stray hairs away from her face. “I’d take you, Playgirl, I really would. But freshmen can’t go as dates. You can volunteer to help out, though—decorate, and clean up and stuff. Lots of underclassmen do that.”
“Not interested,” Davidek said.
“Then just come and see me,” she said. “There’s a little photo area and a red carpet and everything. Usually a lot of parents come, but some freshmen do, too. I’ll be all by myself, so it would be nice to see a friendly face. Maybe you could snap some pictures of me all dolled up in my dress.” She formed the fingers of one hand into a small invisible box and raised it to her face, clicking the nonexistent shutter.
Davidek shrugged. “And if I say no, do you head off to the Fotomat to order double prints of your little trick from under the bridge?”
Hannah looked at him steadily. “No,” she said. “I won’t do that. Prom is only if you want to, Peter.”
He nodded. “All right,” he said, not sure if he meant it.
THIRTY-SEVEN
In Biology the next day, Davidek asked Green if he planned to go to the prom. “Sure,” Green said, delighted that Davidek was feeling chatty again. “Where else can I see Bilbo Tomch in a tux?”
Davidek said, “You going to work? Like, that volunteer stuff … or just go for fun?”
Green shook his head. “I’m volunteering in the kitchen, but I’m also gonna take some pictures for the guys. My dad’s got a good camera. Plus, my mom said I should go. She said girls like guys who act interested in proms and stuff.”
Davidek said he might go, too. Just to see it. “Want to carpool?”
Green thought for a second and said, “Sure. My mom can come get you, and your mom or dad can pick us up.” Green was quiet; then he added, “The guys saw you get in the Jeep with Hannah Kraut yesterday, out by the bus.”
“Oh yeah?” Davidek said.
“Yeah,” Green replied, fiddling with his fingers. “So we’re wondering where you stand with her. Are you just going to do everything she says from now on?”
“She’s my senior,” Davidek told him. “You’re doing what your seniors tell you. That’s how it goes.”
“Yeah, but Hannah…” Green trailed off. “Maybe it would be best to make her your one big enemy, instead of making a million enemies out of everybody else. All the other students are crapping their pants, wondering what stupid-ass thing they did three years ago that’s going to rise up out of her notebook on Hazing Day. And with these old people, these parish Monitors, hanging around, watching everybody like hawks … The teachers are going nuts, too. The point is, Hannah’s a backstabbing bitch, man. And you have to decide whose side you’re on.”
“Hers or the rest of the school?”
Green pointed a finger at him. “Her side—or your side.” Davidek thought of Hannah’s little disposable camera, but his mind also drifted to the other things he saw during those moments in the Jeep, the glimpses under her skirt and between her shirt, the smoothness of her legs as she held his hand on her thigh.…
“I’m definitely not with the backstabbing bitch,” he reassured Green, who put a hand on his shoulder.
“I knew you weren’t, man. The guys’ll be glad to know it, too. You know, they’re not so bad. I think you’d like them. And if the guys believe you’re on their side, they’ll be a lot nicer.”
“Awesome…,” Davidek said unenthusiastically. The guys …
* * *
Each morning, Mr. Mankowski still read Stein’s name in the homeroom roll call. And each morning, Davidek wondered if that would be the day his friend came back. He kept calling the hospital at night, never learning anything.
Sooner or later, Stein would get better. Then he’d help Davidek figure out what to do about “the guys,” Hannah, and everything.
But it never happened.
* * *
The next Friday ended early so it could run late.
That was the tradition at St. Mike’s before prom night: classes cut off at lunchtime as the upperclassmen hustled home to prepare themselves in the finest and most glamorous attire they could rent. It would be the best they’d look in their young lives—until they were married, or possibly, as the teachers liked to joke about the less attractive students, until they were buried.
The prom took place each year in the same location—Veltri’s Restaurant, a glass-and-steel box leaning over the bluff atop Coxcomb Hill, overlooking the towns of Springdale and Cheswick, as well as the rocket-sized orange-and-white smokestack of the Duquesne Light power plant between them, which belched coal smoke into the orange sunset.
The first people to gather at the prom were the underclassman volunteers, then the paparazzi crowd of family and friends—overeager
parents and grandparents and uncles and aunts and glum younger siblings, all setting off storms of photo flashes as the formally attired teenage couples began arriving to walk the red carpet (donated courtesy of the local Prizzant’s Carpet Warehouse chain, as a sign beside the walkway attested). The prom-goers smiled and waved for the starstruck relatives, who saw them all the time, but now acted as if they were looking at Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman.
Quite a few freshmen were gathered along the photo line, most of them girls who cheered for their upperclassmen friends, then snottily pointed out amongst themselves who had lifted her hairstyle directly from Prom Time magazine instead of the glossy and more respected Spring Fling.
The school tried to add a touch of class to the night by having Mr. Mankowski stand near the entrance and announce each couple through a microphone wired to a small amplifier at his feet. He was bad at it, and some guessed deliberately so—although that wasn’t true. He tried his best. He was color-blind, so every dress was described as “light” or “dark.” He also had trouble remembering students’ names.
Stretching out in the property adjacent to the restaurant was a gravel parking lot that crumbled away at the edges to hardpan dirt and grass. Thick stands of trees rimmed the grounds and swayed to the muted throb of music coming from inside the building. Parked along the trees in the shadows, far away from the other vehicles, Hannah sat in her Jeep, watching the festive line of classmates move inside. She had a jean jacket over her bare shoulders, and the shimmering layers of pink chiffon puffed up around her midsection, as if she had sunken into a pile of cotton candy.
Since she had no date, Hannah preferred to wait until everyone else was inside so Mankowski wouldn’t announce her solo status. Plus, she hadn’t seen Mr. Zimmer’s car in the lot, and she didn’t want to go into the party until she had someone to talk to.
Mr. Zimmer was really the only reason she was there. She was hoping to end this year with one happy memory. A dance with the person she loved. Even if it just looked to everyone else like a lonely student dancing with a sympathetic teacher.
Zimmer arrived around the last of sunset, and he and Mankowski stood outside the doors staring into the horizon over the bluff like old sailors appraising a storm front. They exchanged a few words; then Zimmer bowed his head and vanished into the restaurant without noticing her parked in the distance. Still she waited. Davidek wasn’t here, and he had promised he would take a picture as she walked inside. Her mom and dad wouldn’t be here. She told them not to come. She didn’t want people in the crowd to say anything about her to them.
Hannah was in no hurry to get inside. She was about as welcome among her classmates as a drunk-driving fatality. Before the night was over, though, it would be nice to get one photo of herself, smiling, looking cute in her new dress, which she had saved her own money to buy.
The sun settled into its cradle behind the hills. Hannah Kraut waited awhile longer, wondering where her little freshman could be.
* * *
Davidek had been in the basement putting a shirt in the wash before the prom when he picked up the old phone that hung beside the dryer and made one of his routine calls to the hospital. He knew the number by heart, and listened patiently to the recorded intro message, which brightly advised him that if he was having an actual emergency that he should dial 911. Davidek pressed the four-digit extension to the nursing station on Stein’s floor.
A man’s voice answered—it had always been a woman before—and the man said “Y’ello?” instead of the standard “Allegheny, floor five, station two.”
Davidek said, “I’m calling for Noah Stein.” The man’s voice said, “Uh…” And there was the sound of shuffling papers. “Are you family?”
Davidek decided to take a chance on the man’s confusion. “I’m his cousin,” he said. “How is he?”
More papers shuffled. The man sighed and took a long time to answer. “That patient is gone,” the voice said at last.
“Gone where?” Davidek said.
“Gone,” the man said. “He’s just … I don’t know. He’s gone. Look, I’m just an orderly, the nurse asked me to watch the phone.…”
“Let me speak to a nurse,” Davidek said. He waited a good while. He heard voices conferring on the other end, and then a female voice got on the line: “I’m sorry. We’ve been asked by the family not to say anything.” Then she hung up.
Davidek immediately dialed Stein’s house. He didn’t call there much anymore. The line had been busy at all hours for two weeks. It didn’t go through this time either.
Davidek slammed down the phone. When he rounded the corner by the furnace, his mother stood at the foot of the basement steps. “Were you just calling someone?”
Davidek said, “No.… Yes, but it’s just—”
His mother jabbed a finger at him. “You’re still grounded—and that means no phone, you got that?”
“Yeah, but it’s…,” Davidek said. He started up the stairs, trying to figure out a lie. “The prom’s tonight,” he said lamely.
“Grounded means no prom,” she said.
“Mom…,” Davidek said, his voice shaking. He’s gone. That’s what the hospital worker had said. “It’s … it’s for school. Freshmen have to go. I have to volunteer. It’s not like I want to.… Dad knows already.…”
“Your father’s driving you?” his mother said, grabbing his arm. Davidek told her, “No, he’s picking us up. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I was calling my friend, Green … his mom is picking us up.”
His mother shook her head. “Always an exception for you, isn’t there?…”
Davidek jerked his arm away. He glanced sideways at the phone. “I have to get ready,” he mumbled to the ground, and his mother stepped aside.
“By all means, my prince,” June Davidek purred, bowing as she extended a hand up the stairs.
* * *
There was a cordless phone in Davidek’s parents’ room. He waited until his mother wasn’t watching him anymore, then grabbed it and slipped outside to the space between their house and the neighbor’s.
The sun was almost gone over the hills. Silhouetted birds chattered overhead as they circled the chimneys. Davidek knelt in the balding grass and his thumbs danced over the phone’s keypad. The line began to ring, and the voice of Hector Greenwill answered.
“Listen, Green, I need to ask you a favor, okay?”
Green said, “Ooooohhkay,” with a doubtful tone.
“Can your mom come over here early—like, right now—and give us a ride out to Stein’s house?”
Green groaned. “Stein’s house? I thought we were picking you up to go to prom.”
“We just need to do this first,” Davidek said. “I promise, it’s very important and I’ll explain later—well, as much as I can. I need you to trust me.”
“So, what are you asking?”
Davidek told him again, and Green repeated: “So my mom and me are supposed to come all the way from our house in Brackenridge, over the bridge to your place, then backtrack all the way over here again and out to the woods to where Stein lives? And you can’t tell me why?”
“Green, listen—”
“And then what? We go back over the bridge toward your side of town and head up to Veltri’s for the prom? Dude, we’ll be two hours late!”
“Forget the prom, Green. I just need you to give me a ride to Stein’s. And we need to do it now.”
Green laughed in spite of himself. “Bilbo and some of the guys said maybe I could help out a little with the DJ, you know? They said they knew him.”
“Green, you can go to the prom later, but I need this favor first. Stein needs us.”
“Stein doesn’t go to school with us anymore,” Green told him flatly.
“You don’t know the whole story.…”
“Are you trying to sneak him to the prom? Davidek, the guy is a waste. Forget him.”
“Stein was your friend,” Davidek said.
Green broke s
ome news to him: “No, he wasn’t. He was your friend, and I put up with him. And he gave me endless shit all the time about hanging out with seniors. But guess what? They were nice to me. He wasn’t.”
“Look, he didn’t mean it like th— It’s just that you were—”
“Davidek…”
“—you were doing whatever they told you to do. Their little favorite. And the rest of us are just getting pushed around—”
“Davidek…”
“—so just do this, okay?”
“Davidek.”
“What?” the boy cried.
Green informed him: “I’m not doing this.”
“Just ask your mom. You didn’t even ask!”
“I don’t want to.… I want to go to the pr—”
Davidek screamed, “Fuck! Fuck the prom!” and Green fell quiet again. “Some fucking friend, Green. If you won’t do it for Stein, then do it for me.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Green said. “I want to go to the prom. And see my friends. And hang out.”
Davidek grasped for words, his lips shook, and his skin tightened against his jaw. His pulse surged and roared in his ears. “Goddamnit, Green,” he said. “Your friends? You think you have friends? You want to know what those friends say when you’re not around? The name they call you?”
Green sighed on the other end of the line. “What name is that, Davidek?”
“You know which one. You haven’t heard it, but you know.”
“No. No, I don’t. So enlighten me.”
The truth was he’d never heard anyone say that about Green, but the angry part of him, the hurt and desperate part wouldn’t let it go. He wanted to wound Green. He wanted to hurt him as badly as he could, as badly as he was hurting. “They’re nice to you because they’re afraid not to be,” Davidek hissed. “And you’re too fucking stupid to know it. Too fucking stupid to know who’s really your friend.”
“Like you?” Green’s voice cracked. “Because you’re really showing it now. What name, Davidek?”
“Guess, Green. Take a fucking guess.”
“Why don’t you say it? It sounds like you might want to.”
Brutal Youth: A Novel Page 29
