Far From Xanadu

by Julie Anne Peters

  In the fridge were a couple of cans of Classic Coke and a quart of Old Milwaukee.

  She extended an open hand and I filled it with the beer bottle. Her question lingered. I wanted her to answer it for me. Had she ever? Had sex? I didn’t care with who. As long as it wasn’t Bailey. As long as they weren’t doing it, I figured I still had a chance. She liked me — a lot. She knew instantly she would. There was more going on here than friendship. When would she realize it, acknowledge it? The touching, smiling, the intimacy, attraction. When would she act on it?

  When she was ready, I answered my own question. At any moment.

  She drew a long pull of the beer and screwed up her face. “Ugh. Pretty desperate, drinking warm beer at nine AM.”

  Xanadu passed the bottle to me and I tipped it to my lips. Not only warm. Flat too. I wanted to spit it out, but the bathroom was clear in back. I gagged as I swallowed. “So. Have you and Bailey...?” I set the bottle on top of the fridge.

  A slow smile spread across her lips. “He makes you think he’s this shy, virginal type, right? When we started kissing, it was like he’d been saving it up. Saving himself, he said. For me. God, it was unbelievable, Mike.”

  Why did I have to ask! Stupid. I clutched the neck of the bottle and pitched it in the metal trash can. The glass shattered and beer splattered everywhere. I said, “Let’s drive to Garden City.”

  Xanadu leaped to her feet. “Okay.”

  I barreled to the door and flung it wide, crashing outside into the blinding light. Why did I have to ask?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dr. Kinneson called me to her office out of Geometry. “Where were you yesterday?” she said. “All your teachers reported you missing. Are you sick? Are you okay?”

  “No. I mean, I’m not sick.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes.” What could possibly be wrong? Everything was perfect. My dad committed suicide. Xanadu was having sex with Bailey. “I ditched.”

  Dr. Kinneson’s eyes waffled. She studied my face. My face was a study in granite, well rehearsed. She’d never chisel through. “Why?” she asked.

  “Why?” I repeated. What kind of question was that?

  “Do you have a reason? Was it an emergency?”

  Besides needing to be with Xanadu? It seemed vital at the time. I didn’t reply. Maybe I shrugged.

  Leaning across her desk, Dr. Kinneson added, “What do you think I should do about it?”

  She was asking me? I got to decide my punishment? “I don’t know. Slap my wrist? Send me to bed hungry?” I smirked.

  She didn’t smile.

  “I don’t know,” I said again. I’d never ditched before. A class here and there, yeah, when we had a sub. When I needed to be close to the sky. When no one would miss me. Do you miss me, Dad?

  “How about you miss the game with Garden City tonight.”

  “What!”

  Dr. Kinneson rolled back her chair and stood. “I think that’s fair. One game.”

  Fair? I couldn’t miss a game. It wasn’t just a game. “Coach, I’d rather you suspend me. Put me on probation. Make me clean the johns or something. Anything. I can’t miss a game.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but the phone rang. She answered it. “Yes? All right. Put him through.” She covered the mouth-piece. “That’ll be all, Mike.”

  I felt dizzy. Shaken. Damn her. I charged out the door. How unfair could she be? I’d never missed a game in my life. I wouldn’t. I’d be letting my teammates down. I’d be letting the town down. If I’d known the price was so high, that it’d cost me this, my pride, I never would have ditched.

  What punishment did Xanadu get? None. Because she was a thousand times smarter than me. She’d called in sick.

  They couldn’t believe it. No one could believe it. Me, sitting on the bench. As Coach Kinneson conferred with the ump over the change in lineup, T.C. apparently got elected to ask. She perched next to me on the bench, leaning over so we were face-to-face, and said, “What’s up? Are you injured?”

  I shook my head at the ground. In sixth grade during a slide into home I’d caught the bag and wrecked my knee. Coach Archuleta had to rush out and help me off the field. I wanted to scream and cry out in pain, but I wouldn’t. It hurt so bad.

  “Baby, it’s okay if you miss a few games,” Dad had told me. “Everyone’ll understand.”

  Meaning who? My team? The town? Him?

  “I’m fine,” I’d assured him, even though I wasn’t fine. I was hurt. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. They were counting on me to play. Depending on me to bring home the win.

  “You’re one tough cookie,” Dad had said. He was proud. Proud of my strength and courage. He added, “You’re stronger than I’ll ever be.”

  I jerked back to the present. He’d said that. I wasn’t sure what he meant at the time. Now I knew. He was weak. So weak. I turned to T.C. “I’m fine. I’m just sitting this one out.”

  Armie stuck his head around the shell of the lean-to. “Mike, you hurt? How come you’re not out there?”

  The game was starting, both bleachers spilling over with people. T.C. clenched my shoulder, then loped onto the field. It felt like everyone was looking at me. Waiting. Expectant. I shook my head at Armie. He wasn’t going to hear it from me. No one was.

  “Coach,” Armie called over to her. “Why isn’t Mike out there?”

  Coach Kinneson said, “She’s benched.”

  “What?” Armie sounded shocked. I felt his eyes burn through me as I stared into the middle distance.

  “How come?” Armie asked.

  Coach scribbled a note on her clipboard. “None of your business,” she said.

  My jaw unhinged. Telling Armie that — telling anyone in Coalton that — was like saying, “Fuck you.”

  Armie bristled. He stomped back to the bleachers and Coach Kinneson muttered to me, “I get the feeling I’m not going to be the most popular person in Coalton tomorrow.”

  You aren’t today, I thought. It was agony sitting on the bench, cheering for my team, not being out there. When the Buffs saw I wasn’t playing, it seemed to energize them. But Cougars tapped into their own current. Fifth inning, they heightened their play. Everyone’s game was on. Coalton beat the crap out of Garden City. Without me. It’s not like I wanted us to lose, but...

  Xanadu had come with Bailey. All game long, they sat cuddled at the top of the bleachers. If there was a hell, this was it.

  I congratulated my team, shared the victory whoop. Big whoop. “Hey, what’d you do?” Darryl caught up with me as I was gathering my gear. “Murder someone?”

  I whirled on him.

  “What else would be bad enough that the coach would bench you? Unless you shot your mouth off to her —”

  “Shut up.”

  “The way you do me.”

  “Shut up!” I kicked gravel at him. Took off for home.

  “Pretty cruel,” Darryl said at my back. “Not letting you play.”

  What would you know! I wanted to scream. You don’t know.

  But he did know. He got it. Coach Kinneson couldn’t have hurt me any worse if she’d plunged a knife through my heart.

  “Can I go with you tomorrow?” Xanadu asked.

  Her words barely registered through my drunken stupor. She’d rested her head in my lap. She was so close, I could touch her face. Brush her lips with my fingertips, lean down and kiss her. “I could show you guys around Denver,” she said, reaching up and fondling the ring on the gold chain around my neck. The chain was a payoff from Jamie for agreeing to take him to Denver. He’d whined and bitched and moaned all week and finally I caved. The ring was Dad’s. Mine now.

  Xanadu slipped her index finger into the ring and smiled tenderly at me. I slugged another shot of tequila.

  I liked tequila, I was finding out. She must’ve known my preference when she excavated a full bottle of Cuervo Gold from the Davenports’ root cellar. Who knew what we were celebrating? Wh
o cared?

  Jamie was watching me, watching us.

  “I could show you my old stomping grounds,” Xanadu said. “Show you where it happened.”

  “Where what happened?” Jamie glugged from a bottle of apple wine.

  Xanadu tensed. “Nothing.” She let go of the ring and sat up.

  Damn you, Jamie.

  “What about Bailey?” Jamie asked. “How could you stand being apart from lover boy that long?”

  Xanadu sighed wearily. “It’s not me. He’s got this 4-H crap all weekend. “What is 4-H, anyway? Like a sewing club?”

  I burst into laughter.

  Xanadu grinned and tipped back her bottle of wine. She swallowed a mouthful. “Could I go with you guys? Please?” she begged.

  Simultaneously, Jamie said, “No,” and I said, “Yes.” I glared at him. “Why not?”

  He widened his eyes at me, like, you know. I didn’t know. Was this a gay thing? A guy thing? “What?” I said.

  He lit a smoke, a regular one, and took a drag. “It’d be too crowded in the truck with the four of us.”

  “You and Shane’ll be naked in back, won’t you?” Xanadu said. She winked at me.

  Jamie sighed. “I can only dream.”

  “Anyway, Bailey and I need a break.” Xanadu crooked her finger at Jamie to share the cigarette. “He’s starting to get on my nerves.”

  I struggled to sit up. “Yeah?”

  Xanadu pulled a deep drag and blew out the smoke. “He thinks he owns me. Why do guys do that, get all possessive? He told me today he didn’t like me coming to the caboose and drinking with you guys. I mean, come on. What else are you going to do in Totoland? I told him he could come with us, share the joy, but he made up some lame excuse about wanting to worm the calves before he left in the morning.”

  Thank you, God. Thank you for worms. I’d never try to own her. She was her own person, a free spirit.

  Jamie and Shane could take up residence in the toilet tank for all I cared. Xanadu was coming with us.

  I vaguely remember Jamie ordering me to pick him up at six AM sharp so we could get to Denver International Airport by nine. Shane’s plane landed at ten-thirty and Jamie wanted time to cruise the concourse.

  Did he say cruise? More like work off nervous energy. My brain was fried. Last night’s party went on until four AM and I shouldn’t have even bothered coming home. The phone rang as I was knocking back my third cup of instant coffee. I lunged to answer it, not wanting to wake Ma or Darryl. I didn’t need Darryl hassling me about the truck. Not today. Not on the day I planned to speed up time, spend all day with Xanadu, move her in my direction. Today she would see the light; see me illuminated in it.

  “Mike, hi,” she whispered hoarsely. Was her throat as raw as mine? It felt like I’d been drinking straight gasoline. Plus, I’d had to pull over twice on the way home to puke. “I can’t go today,” she rasped.

  A veil of darkness dropped over my head. “Why not?”

  She expelled an irritated breath. “Bailey called this morning. Aunt Faye was furious because it was like five o’clock. He apologized for being such a butthead and wants to make up for it, so he canceled his 4-H doohickey in Wichita to spend the weekend with me. He’s got it all worked out, he says, this elaborate lie he’s going to tell his parents so we can spend tonight together. I mean, God. Bailey lying for me? I think it’s against his religion or something. Anyway, I guess since I’m the one corrupting him, I better agree.” There was a smile in her voice.

  My stomach hurt.

  “I’m sorry, Mike. I really wanted to meet the mysterious cyber-Shane. And spend time with you, of course.”

  Darkness. Aching inside.

  “You’ll tell me all about it, right? I want a blow by blow. Did I just say that?” She giggled.

  I needed to hurl. Or do crunches.

  “Mike?”

  “Yeah,” I said. Blow by blow.

  There was a clunk on her end, a door slamming. “Shit, Uncle Lee just came in. I better go. Call me as soon as you get back. Bailey better have enough condoms for overnight.”

  We disconnected. I’d never felt violent toward anyone in my life until now. Bailey should watch his back.

  Jamie was huddling on the stoop of his trailer, like he’d been camped out since I dumped him at the curb two hours ago. He sprinted to the street and hopped into the truck.

  “She’s not coming,” I anticipated his question. “She’s spending the weekend with Bailey.”

  Jamie gave me this poor puppy dog look. I almost split his lip with a knuckle whip. I squealed away from the curb, whiplashing his head on purpose. So what? I didn’t care. I had all the time in the world.

  As I accelerated onto Highway 27, heading north to Goodland, Jamie shrieked, “Dammit! I forgot my camera.” He punched his leg, hard. “Dammit. Goddammit.”

  “Chill. We can pick up one of those disposables at the airport,” I said.

  “You think?”

  “I try not to.” It damaged my head.

  He resumed bouncing his fist off his leg, the way he’d been doing ever since we left Coalton.

  In syncopated rhythm with his fist, Jamie’s head began to bounce off the headrest.

  “Will you stop that,” I ordered him. “You’re giving me a headache.” In addition to the nausea and vertigo. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Are you kidding? He’ll hate me. He’ll take one look at me and get on the next plane home. The next plane to anywhere.” Jamie exhaled all the air in his lungs. “I know he’ll hate me.”

  “No, he won’t,” I said. “He’ll fall in love with you at first sight.”

  Jamie met my eyes. He seemed to downshift a gear. “Do I look all right?” he asked. “I picked this green shirt because it brings out my eyes, but maybe I should’ve been more subtle. Worn all black. Or dressed up. What if he’s wearing like, Abercrombie & Fitch? I’ll die of embarrassment. What if he thinks I’m fat, or ugly? Or shabby, or immature, or inexperienced? What if he doesn’t come?”

  “He’s coming,” I said. “He wouldn’t have bought a plane ticket if he wasn’t coming.”

  “He might’ve lied to me. Set me up.”

  Jamie was just now coming to that realization?

  “This whole thing could be a scam, like you said. He could be a pedophile.”

  A little late to face the truth, I thought. The turnoff to I-70 loomed ahead and I switched lanes to exit. “I guess it’s a good thing you brought me along for protection. If he’s a perv, I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

  Jamie laced his fingers together under his chin and fluttered his eyelashes at me. “My queero.”

  “Shut up.” I passed a little old lady going forty and floored it.

  Jamie muttered, “I need a smoke.” He punched open the glove compartment and fished around. “Hey, didn’t I have a couple of joints in here?”

  My one lucid act before leaving this morning was to clean out the glove box. If we got stopped, I didn’t want to get busted for more than speeding. “Darryl smoked them,” I lied.

  “Damn.” Jamie threw himself against the seat back. “Damn. I should’ve taken a Xanax this morning. I’ll never live through this.”

  “Look,” I told him, “he’s probably the gorgeous hunk in his picture. He obviously likes you if he’s spending hard-earned gas-pumping money to fly out here and meet you. I doubt he can afford Abercrombie & Fitch. I bet he’s as nervous as you are.”

  Jamie blinked over. “He said he was. We both said how nervous we are.”

  “Okay. Then you’ll have an emotional meltdown together. Your first exchange of bodily fluids.”

  Jamie sighed. “The weather sucks.”

  It was gray and drizzly, the gloom pressing in on my dark, heavy mood. Bailey could spend the weekend with Beau. Like Bailey, like Beau. Lying to your parents. Good, Bailey. An admirable 4-H quality. I cranked up the radio to see if there was some good music to distract me, keep me awake, keep me from t
hinking about it. In the middle of Reba’s “I’m a Survivor,” Jamie’s head began to bobble. He was gone.

  He looked so sweet, asleep. Innocent, vulnerable. I hoped for his sake Shane was everything Jamie dreamed of. Jamie had big dreams. Bigger than mine. But then Jamie had always been out of touch with reality.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I exited onto Pena Boulevard, heading for Denver International Airport. Jamie’s eyelids flew open. “Are we here already?”

  Already? Three hours on the road, in the rain, hung over? I was trashed. “Ten more miles,” I said.

  The clouds parted suddenly and sprays of sunshine reflected off the wet pavement. “Oh my God,” Jamie gasped. “That’s my sign.” He pointed up through the front window. “Renata told me my cusp run-neth over. She said I’d receive a sign today on my way to Shane.”

  His cusp? He’d had his horoscope read? Oh brother. The only sign I saw was the turnoff to the West Terminal.

  As I poked along the rows of cars, searching for a parking space, I checked my watch. Ten to nine. I’d booked it on the Interstate. We still had an hour and a half to kill before the flight from Birmingham landed.

  Inside the terminal, we found a mini McDonald’s and bought a Coke and a large fry. We sat at a table watching all the people come and go. The farthest I’d ever been from Coalton was Hutchinson, Kansas, on a field trip in fourth grade to the salt deposits.

  Jamie said, “I wish we could meet his plane. What if I miss him?”

  I muttered, “You assume he’s coming.”

  Jamie just looked at me.

  “Because he is,” I added quickly. “What are you guys going to do when he gets here? Where am I taking you?”

  Jamie stabbed at his ice with a straw. “You mean if he doesn’t have a pulmonary embolism and faint over dead at the sight of me?”

  This was tiresome. He was such a girl. “Assuming the best. Say he’s a god.”