Nemesis: Box Set: Books 1 - 3

by David Beers

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Bryan asked. He felt Julie looking at him out of his periphery, but didn’t look back. This was a non-issue, or at least he had to play it like that right now. Michael was their friend and had been for as long as any of them could remember, so why wouldn’t he come to the bonfire?

  “Because of all the reasons I’ve mentioned before?” Julie said.

  “I mean, Julie, it’s a party. You’re not going to be able to keep him from showing up, and if he does show up, we’re going to hang out with him.” That was the path of least resistance right now, the one hardest to argue against. She might not want Bryan to invite Michael, but really, how could she stop him from showing up to what would be a pretty large party?

  “All I’m saying is we don’t have to invite him, okay?”

  Bryan shook his head, unable to hold the disgust in anymore. He didn’t want to fight with her, didn’t want to even have this conversation, but Jesus, were they just supposed to disown the kid? Act like they hadn’t spent the last ten years of their life together? And for what? Because Michael was choosing a different path than the rest of them?

  “What?” she said, already knowing what, though. There wasn’t any way she didn’t know what that head shake meant, what she was saying and how it affected Bryan.

  “Look, I know you’re worried, but I’m not. We have six months left here, and maybe he will find something other than Chic-Fil-A by then, and maybe he won’t—but I’m not going to just cut him off tonight. Like, say, it’s been a nice ten years, but I’m not going to be able to invite you anywhere or talk to you if you happen to cross my path. He’s my best friend, Julie. He’s been my best friend since elementary school.”

  Julie turned her eyes back to the hallway. Both of their voices were lowered; they had to be, because if people heard them talking about this, the gossip would travel back to Michael like a virus. They shouldn’t be discussing this in the hallway, hell, they shouldn’t be discussing it at all.

  He pulled his hand away from hers.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, turning into his classroom without bothering to kiss or even look at her.

  He took a seat in the front of the room so that she wouldn’t be able to see him and he wouldn’t have to look at her, standing at the door, mouth slightly ajar, her brow furrowed. Bryan didn’t want to see any of it, at all.

  * * *

  Thera sat down at the brick lunch table. The sun kept the patio warm, but they only had another month or so with weather like this. It would start turning cold in late October and she doubted any of their foursome would sit outside then. This was her last year to do it, too. That’s what she kept reminding herself. Everything she wanted to do in high school had to be done now. Not next year, but each day. The four of them sat alone outside, most of the other kids choosing to sit indoors. Maybe because the tables inside were closer to the food, or maybe they didn’t like the fact that the whole lunchroom could look out the glass windows to see their group of four sitting here—which didn’t make a whole lot of sense, because everyone could see each other sitting inside, too.

  Thera didn’t really care either way. She would sit out here as long as possible and so would the other three.

  Michael sat down next to her, Bryan coming a few seconds later, and sitting across from Thera.

  “Where’s Julie?” Thera asked.

  “I think she decided to go to study hall,” Bryan responded, looking down at his brown bag, pulling food out of it.

  But that didn’t sound right, in the slightest.

  “Study hall?” Michael asked. “Since when do seniors go to study hall? She already took the SAT.”

  “I don’t know, man. She said she wanted to study so that’s where she went,” Bryan said, not looking up. Instead, he unwrapped the foil containing the two slices of pizza he brought for lunch. No one said anything, and Thera glanced over to Michael, seeing he hadn’t opened his lunch yet either. Only Bryan was eating.

  “Everything okay?” Thera asked, knowing that she was stepping on unsure ground. Bryan clearly didn’t want to talk about whatever was going on, but she still felt the need to ask because that was the polite thing to do. You asked people if everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t, that way they could talk about it if they wanted to. Give them the option and all that, though she knew Bryan wouldn’t take it.

  She asked the question for the same reason all of the other students sat inside, because everyone else did it, even though there wasn’t much logical sense in it.

  “Yeah.”

  She glanced over at Michael again, finding his eyes flashing to hers. He shrugged and raised his eyebrows—which meant fuck it, in Michael’s language. He opened his plastic grocery store bag and pulled out his food. The table went quiet as the two boys began eating, but it wasn’t the normal silence that came with lunch. Of course, they had these silences in the past, when people were friends this long they got into spats, but it had been a while. Michael chewed his food and looked past Bryan, acting like he didn’t notice anything, though he most surely did. Thera always imagined that Michael could serve a lifetime prison sentence and act the exact same as he would if it was a long beach vacation. It didn’t matter if an atomic bomb dropped in the center of town and radiation fell all around them; if he needed to act normal, then that’s what he was going to do. Wouldn’t even stand up in a hurry as the fallout rained down on his head.

  Thera tried to keep the conversation going, telling them about college letters she was receiving, and asking about theirs. Or Bryan’s at least. Michael just peppered them with questions about which ones they wanted to attend.

  It was an awkward lunch.

  * * *

  Michael’s binder lay open across his desk and his pen rested in his hand. Mr. Malone was talking at the front of the class, and Michael looked at him but didn’t hear anything he said. Michael was still at lunch, still thinking back to Julie heading to study hall instead of eating with them.

  It was all bullshit and everyone at the table knew it. They held up appearances and Thera guided them through the conversation as best she could, but the truth was there, running underneath whatever facade they all decided to show. The truth hurt though, hurt and angered, so they would act like it wasn’t there. They’d act like everything was okay so that no one had to face what they were thinking.

  Which was, simply, Julie deciding to take her place in the lower upper class a few years early. Michael saw that pretty clearly, and what could he do about it? Flip out? Tell her, no, she had to slum it for the rest of her life? Taking in little street urchins like some kind of nun? No. He had known this wouldn’t last forever, was surprised it ever began at all. Not in the beginning, of course; in the beginning he was too young to see what was happening, that socioeconomic classes were mixing.

  Michael knew his place, knew his father’s place too. He was trash. White trash, trailer-park trash, it didn’t matter what you called it. He flipped chicken for cash and his father sat on a chair and watched ghost stories while his disability checks rolled in. People like Thera, Julie, and Bryan didn’t hang out with people like that forever. Well, Thera might, but that was different. She was different in a way that Michael wasn’t, different, really, from anyone.

  Julie and Bryan, though?

  To be honest, Michael was surprised their parents let those two hang out with him as long as they did.

  It was a nice run, he supposed. A better run than he actually deserved. What could he do? He wouldn’t beg them to stay friends, and when they left for college next fall, there wasn’t going to be a lot of calls coming in. Michael felt alone whenever he went home, and the only difference next year would be that he felt alone when he wasn’t at home. Again, what could he do? This was life.

  He thought this was coming and today confirmed it. The reason Julie brought it up now probably had to do with the party tonight. Thera told him about it, though Bryan hadn’t. Thera asked if he wanted to go, and he said sure. B
ut Bryan hadn’t. Bryan ate his pizza and kept his eyes down for the most part.

  Malone was still talking and Michael knew he needed to pay attention. Even if he wasn’t going to college, he wouldn’t let his GPA drop. There was some pride to this, after all. The rest of the class might be going to college, most to community colleges, but higher education none-the-less—yet only a handful in the whole school would be able to say they did better than Michael in high school.

  He let the thoughts of Bryan and Julie go. He’d prepared for this nearly his whole life, even if they hadn’t.

  4

  Present Day

  Thera watched Michael close the trailer door.

  Another thing that would end soon, her watching this. They were eighteen now, and she’d seen this act since they were sixteen. Fifteen, really, if she counted the times she stole her parent’s car to sneak out at night. And before that? Six years watching him leave this same trailer. A lot had changed in that time though, more for Michael than for her.

  Take it in, she thought. Take it all in, because it ends soon.

  He moved down the stairs with the same athletic gait he’d always possessed. The kid could have gotten an athletic scholarship of some kind if he had went out for sports. She still remembered watching him play flag football in middle school, watching the way he moved around the other students, the way he scored with an ease that everyone else admired. And then his mother died and all that stopped. He still had the grace though, still had the smoothness that connected each movement together.

  Going a bit overboard, you think? She asked herself, smiling as she did. Maybe she was, but Michael didn’t know, so what did it matter?

  He opened the door and sat down in the passenger seat. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yup.” She put the car in reverse and backed out the seven feet of gravel driveway. “How’s your dad?”

  “Asleep.”

  She knew they would go no further down that road. Michael talked about a lot of things, but he usually left Wren out of the mix. Thera actually couldn’t remember the last time they discussed Michael’s father, but then, they didn’t really need to. Things weren’t changing with his father, and the underlying issue would always be the same. His father was depressed. Depressed that his wife died. Depressed that he lived in a trailer and didn’t work. Depressed that he couldn’t stop drinking. Thera knew what Michael would say: depression wasn’t the issue; the issue stemmed from his father drinking every goddamn day. It wasn’t though. Not really. His father hated his life and everything else grew from that.

  “You talked to Julie at all?” he asked.

  “No. You?”

  He smiled. “I don’t think she wants to talk to me, maybe ever again, if possible.”

  “Shut up,” Thera said. “That’s not true.”

  “Come on. That’s why she wasn’t at lunch today. She doesn’t want Bryan hanging around me and that was their whole fight. Doesn’t want me going to this party tonight. She wants to separate from me completely.”

  “Why would she want that?”

  “Because out of the four of us, I’m the one not leaving this town.”

  Thera didn’t say anything, just kept looking forward though only subconsciously seeing the road and making adjustments to it. Julie hadn’t said anything like that to her, but…it felt right. “Why would that matter?” she asked, running through the answer to the question even as she asked it.

  “I’m trailer trash,” he said.

  And that was it. She had no argument against it. Not that she agreed, or could really even define what the phrase meant, but that’s what Julie thought, through and through.

  “I don’t—” she started.

  “Hush,” Michael said, interrupting. “Don’t even try to lie about it. That’s the truth and you know it.”

  Thera nodded, her lips pursed together.

  They rode in silence for a bit, the road smooth beneath her car.

  “Did you sign up for the SAT?” she asked.

  “No, not yet, but I printed off some information about it at school.”

  “You’re running out of time, Michael. If you’re going to apply, you have to have this thing finished within the next month.” They had been discussing him taking the test for months, but it was like trying to convince a polar bear to eat a plate of broccoli. He didn’t even want to attempt it, and Thera couldn’t figure out exactly why. He could go to college, and depending on how well he did on the test, he might be able to go wherever he wanted. His grades were nearly a 4.0, even though hardly anyone knew it. Anything the teachers put in front of him, he aced, but still Thera got the feeling that college was like a massive black hole to Michael. Something strange, that he didn’t understand, and something to fear as well. Something that he would never escape from if he started drifting toward it.

  “I’m going to read over the stuff this weekend, and I’ll make the decision by Monday.”

  She looked over at him. “You promise?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll know by Monday if I’m going to take it.”

  * * *

  Wren opened his eyes, staring straight ahead at the television in front of him. He’d heard Michael close the door a few minutes ago, but hadn’t fully wanted to wake up. He didn’t hear his truck start up, so Michael had left it alone. Wren probably would have woken up completely if he heard the engine turn over. Woke up and walked right to the door, screaming as he went, but given that his son had listened to him, a little more sleep was okay.

  He picked up the remote sitting on the chair’s armrest, flipping the channel to the TV Guide. The time said seven. When did he last eat? Wren couldn’t remember, trying to think back as his eyes read through the television shows. He glanced over to the end table sitting next to his recliner, seeing his green, plastic cup. Had he finished it?

  Wren picked it up, feeling a little bit of liquid at the bottom. He brought it to his lips and took a sip, tasting the vodka’s bite first and the Gatorade next. He let the cup rest on his leg while he held it. He had more liquor in the cabinet, or at least he thought he did.

  What the hell was he going to do tonight?

  Why even ask that? Linda said.

  And, it was a good question, too. He already knew. He’d find a movie on some channel and order a pizza. That was Friday night. Saturday night too.

  He flipped down the leg rest on the chair and leaned forward, wincing as he did. The headaches were getting worse, not better, and he couldn’t sit here and say differently no matter how much he wanted to. The headaches came all the time now and he hadn’t ever felt like this before. Really, that was the main reason he’d been so hard on Michael about the truck, because a hive full of bees had been inside his skull. He didn’t know what it meant, this new progression, but he didn’t think it was good.

  It’ll be alright, he told himself.

  But how many times have you told yourself that? How many times have you said that everything is going to be alright? Linda said.

  Wren ignored her; she could ask her questions over and over, but she wasn’t going to get an answer from him. He wasn’t going to feed into it, because it wasn’t Linda. It was him and him alone. He was chastising himself and just because it sounded like Linda didn’t mean he held any allegiance to that voice.

  So he would avoid the question and get out of this chair, then find out if he had vodka in the cabinet or if he needed to take the truck out to pick up more.

  Wren stood up, groaning as he did. He would admit to his head hurting. He couldn’t deny that anymore, though he wanted to. He could still deny the way his body hurt, though, and mainly because it only hurt when he moved. Besides the groans, he gave no other indication that he was in pain.

  He walked into the small kitchen, holding the green cup in his left hand, and opening the cabinet with his right. There was one bottle left, but only a quarter full. Wren looked at the bottle, his eyes clear for the first time since he woke up this morning. Would the bott
le make it through the night? He probably had a good five to six hours of waking left.

  Probably not. Wren pulled the bottle from the cabinet and poured some into his cup. He found ice and a little bit of Gatorade left in the refrigerator. He went to the couch and grabbed his keys, then walked outside, not bothering to lock the door.

  * * *

  Michael stepped out of the car, looking at all the other cars surrounding Thera’s. There were a lot of people here, more than he had expected. Maybe a hundred? It couldn’t all be from their class, juniors and sophomores must have showed up too.

  He looked over the top of the car to Thera, who looked back at him. She smiled, obviously knowing what he was thinking. She shouldn’t be here. He could be; he could walk down there to the bonfires being built and drink as much as he wanted, could run amok all night. Not Thera. Seniors were one thing to hang around with, but juniors? Sophomores? If the cops showed up, this party could ruin Thera’s future.

  “We should go,” he said, not matching Thera’s smile.

  “Don’t be such a pussy,” she said, closing the door and hitting the lock button on her keys. “We’ll be fine. The field is too far out for anyone to make a noise complaint.”

  Michael shook his head and looked past the cars to the five or six bonfires. They were just starting to burn as people stood around them talking. It actually looked pretty nice from where he stood, not like the mess that it would probably end up being by the end of the night.

  “You’re sure?” he said, watching people mill around in the field, setting coolers down, opening beers that had probably come from five people, each of them knowing someone old enough to purchase.

  “Come on,” Thera said, pocketing her keys and starting to move down the hill of parked cars to the basin of people.