Smashed

by Lisa Luedeke

  Stan would have a fire burning in the big stone fireplace in his barn tonight. They’d be sitting around it, laughing and talking, playing quarters with mugs of beer on the wide wooden floorboards.

  Let them, I thought. There’ll be other parties. My friends, Coach Riley, a hockey scholarship: these things were more important than a night out. They had to be.

  A door slammed across the street, the sound echoing up our lonely dead-end street. A moment later Matt appeared out of the shadows and waved as he stepped onto the silvery moonlit grass.

  “Help me get some wood?” I asked.

  He nodded and followed me out toward the barn.

  By the time Cassie’s father dropped her off, the wood stove was lit and the fire crackling. She put a large pizza and three DVDs on the kitchen table: a new horror movie and a couple of comedies. Since I was going to be home alone all night after they left, the scary one was going in first. A comedy would help me forget it.

  “If we’re going to watch this, I want you guys on either side of me,” I hollered from the kitchen, where I was digging for cookies in the overflowing cupboards. My mother kept the place stocked with enough food to feed several professional basketball teams at all times. I think it made her feel like she was taking care of us.

  “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” Matt hollered back.

  “I haven’t.”

  “Well, one just like it,” he said.

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  He snuck up behind me then and grabbed me suddenly with both hands, poking me in the ribs. I dropped the cookies I’d found and went after him, chasing him into the living room. “You’re dead, buddy!”

  “Break it up, you guys. I’m starting it.” Cassie was on the couch with the remote aimed at the television screen like a gun.

  I picked up a pillow and hurled it across the room at Matt. He ducked.

  “Hey!” Cassie yelled, but Matt tackled me, tickling me.

  “Cut it out! I can’t breathe.”

  “Leave her alone,” Cassie said.

  “What’re you, my mother?” Matt let go of me and whipped a pillow at Cassie.

  “You’re a bully,” she said, and scowled at him.

  Thoughts of Stan’s party were gone. Snuggled between my two best friends on the couch, I felt safe. By the end of the first movie, I’d completely relaxed, my head on a pillow on Matt’s shoulder.

  *

  Hours later, Cassie and I stood barefoot on the cold porch and watched Matt disappear into his house across the street.

  “Why don’t you come home with me?” Cassie said. “Spend the night?”

  “Thanks, Cass, but that’s okay.”

  “It’s not healthy for you to be alone so much.”

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I said.

  “Like what?” She cocked her head to one side.

  “Like you feel sorry for me. If your parents had wanted another daughter, they would have had one. They don’t need me hanging around all the time.”

  “Don’t you like my parents?” Her question was genuine.

  “You know I do. I’m just … I’m not a charity case.”

  “I know you’re not.”

  “Anyway, I can’t imagine they’re too happy with me right now.”

  “They’re fine with you.”

  “Come on, Cassie. If you’d been in that accident, you’d be grounded for the rest of your life. I’m surprised they let you come over here tonight.”

  Cassie looked away.

  “I wish you could stay overnight here for once,” I said.

  “You know I can’t unless there’s an adult here.”

  “Yeah, and that never happens.”

  “I’m sorry …”

  “Don’t be,” I said. “At least you know they care.”

  23

  Cassie and Matt were long gone.

  From my bed, I could see the lone light that Matt’s mother left on in their upstairs hallway each night. When I was a kid, my mother would leave my window shade half up so I could see their light anytime I woke up. It was like a distant night light that kept me company.

  The moon had risen high over the dark silhouette of Matt’s house. It looked calm sitting up there, spreading light across the cold September sky. I read a few pages of my book until the words began to run together… .

  It was nearly two thirty a.m. when I woke up, suddenly, to the sounds of a car swinging into my dirt driveway, gravel crackling under its wheels, the engine humming loudly in the quiet night. My body was in full alert; my heart beat like crazy. Who would be in my driveway at this hour?

  I peered out the window, frozen, unsure what to do. The headlights were bright and I couldn’t tell the shape of the car attached to them. But I had to find out—or get to a phone. Slipping out from under the bedcovers, I made my way across the dark bedroom toward the hall.

  Possibilities raced through my mind: Had my mother’s schedule changed? It wouldn’t matter—she never drove home this late. Had Matt’s uncle Paul showed up drunk again and pulled into the wrong driveway? Not impossible, but not likely either, since Matt’s mom had banished him from their house months ago. Fear crept through my belly. This was a dead-end street. The only people who came by here lived out here. There was no good explanation, and I knew it.

  The car moved forward around the curve of the driveway as I tiptoed down the stairs, its high beams flashing through the windows and across the living room like a searchlight. I wondered if I should turn on the lights to let it be known I was there—awake, alert, ready to take on intruders. No, I thought. See the car first. Still as a statue, I waited.

  It seemed like forever before the headlights clicked off and the driver cut the engine. A car door slammed; then the hollow thunk of footsteps crossed the old wood floorboards of the porch. Heart bursting from my chest, I ran for the phone, ready to push a button and call Ron Bailey or Harlan Reed, but someone was knocking loudly, persistently—urgently. If someone’s pounding on my door at two a.m., maybe they have a good reason, I thought desperately. I took a deep breath, switched on the porch light, and peered out the window.

  It was Alec, one muscular arm extended, hand on the doorframe, the other holding a six-pack by his side.

  “Jesus Christ,” I said loudly, fear turning to anger.

  “Katie?” he called. “Open the damn door. It’s cold out here.” He rapped again impatiently. “I know you’re in there.”

  I flung the door open. “How’d you know it wasn’t my mother? Keep your voice down, will you?” I whispered.

  “You can cut the act. Your mother wasn’t here before and she’s not here now. Her car’s gone.”

  “Well, she could’ve been. And my brother is sleeping upstairs.” There was no way he could know that wasn’t true.

  “Right,” he replied, pushing past me into the kitchen. “Beer?” he asked. “I got Corona—your favorite. I even”—he reached into his jean pocket—“brought a lime.” He held it out on his palm like he was presenting a golden egg.

  “What are you doing here? It’s two in the morning, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “You couldn’t go to the party, so I’m bringing the party to you. This is the thanks I get? Shit, Martini, I expected some gratitude.” He took a swig off a beer, then handed me a full one. “Have a seat,” he said to me. “Make yourself at home.”

  I looked at the bottle in my hand, then put it on the table. Was Alec trying to get me in trouble? Give me beer, then make sure my coach heard about our after-hours party of two?

  “Drink up. There’s plenty more.”

  “I’m not thirsty.”

  “Right. Like that ever stopped you.”

  “Look, you can’t stay here. You’re going to wake up Will.”

  “You know, you’re a little uptight lately. You need to loosen up, have some fun.” He banged his beer down on the table loudly and fixed his eyes on me. “You’re not getting out enough.”
/>   I looked back at him, then away, speechless. I still couldn’t believe he was sitting at my kitchen table. Why had I opened the door? I’d known I had to break it off with Alec before we ever got into the stupid accident. Well, he was proving me right, but that wasn’t helping me now. I’d let him in—now I had to get him out.

  “How was Stanfield’s?” I tried to sound casual.

  “Great—you should’ve been there. Marcy caught Rob in the hall closet making out with Sue Tapley, so Marcy flings the door open and Sue jumps up, her shirt off—hanging free for all to see—and Marcy takes a swing at her. I couldn’t believe it.” He laughed. “It was a real cat fight.”

  “What did Rob do?”

  “That’s the best part. He just leaves them there and he’s out in the barn mixing gin and tonics for your teammates.”

  “Nice guy.”

  Alec shrugged. “The guy knows how to take care of himself. Marcy’s whacked. I should know.”

  “Who else was there from field hockey?” I asked. “Besides Sue and Marcy.” I couldn’t believe the sophomore who’d replaced me in that first scrimmage had the nerve to show up and drink.

  “Megan, of course, and Cheryl. Basically your key defensive players and one half-assed sub. Wasn’t the same without you, though. People were asking for you.”

  Alec opened another beer and drank, neither of us speaking for a moment. I leaned against the refrigerator, arms folded across my chest.

  “Well, thanks for stopping by,” I said, taking a new tack. Maybe if I was nice he’d leave. “I’m going to go to bed.”

  “Want some company?”

  “What?”

  “Take it easy. Can’t you take a joke anymore? You know, you used to be fun.” He stood up then, and I hoped he was leaving, but he came and stood next to me.

  “The guys on the team have been calling me Frank—you know, for Frankenstein. A highly creative group,” he said, turning his cheek toward me, rubbing his scar. “But Scottie just calls me Scarface. I prefer that, don’t you? Not original, but it’s the Al Pacino thing. You know that old flick Scarface, right?” He fixed his blue eyes on mine.

  “Yeah. But I don’t think it’s very nice,” I said, looking away.

  “It’s true, though. You can’t hide from the truth.”

  “Well, you don’t have to rub it in, either.”

  “I don’t mind. Scars add character to a guy’s face. Don’t you think?” He circled around me and we were chest to chest, my back pushed up against the refrigerator. His hands held my upper arms a little too firmly. There was nowhere to look but up at his face.

  “Look, Alec. I’m sorry.” My voice was barely audible. “I’m really, really sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry … this happened to you. Sorry I totaled your car. Sorry you … got hurt.”

  “It’s no big deal, Katie, I told you. All I want is to be friends again. I mean, why do you think I took the hit for you?” He looked me in the eye. “We both know what you’ve got on the line.”

  “We are friends, Alec.”

  “Friends are nice to each other. They spend time together. They welcome each other into their homes.”

  “You’re welcome here. It’s just a little too late is all.”

  “Too late for what?” He moved in to kiss me, and I realized how disgusting beer breath is when you don’t have it yourself. I tried not to flinch and to kiss him back. If I’m nice, maybe he’ll leave, I thought again. That was all I could think.

  “See?” he said softly. “Isn’t that better than fighting?”

  “That’s not friends, Alec.”

  “Don’t start with that bullshit.” He stepped back but didn’t take his eyes off me. “You said that you wanted to be ‘just friends’ this summer, but you still went to Haley Pond with me. And you didn’t exactly kiss me like I was your brother just now, did you?”

  I didn’t have a choice, I thought vaguely. But I did, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have tried to be nice.

  He moved in and kissed me again, this time sliding his hands up under my loose T-shirt and onto my bare chest.

  I pushed his hands away. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “Bull shit, you don’t.” But he backed off then, and stepped away. “You know what your problem is? You say one thing and you do another. You oughta watch that.” He paused, pointing an index finger at me. “It can get you into trouble.”

  He picked up the beer he was drinking. “I’m outta here,” he said. “Thanks for the party.”

  And he left, the screen door slamming shut behind him. I closed the kitchen door, locked it, and listened to him peel out of the driveway.

  Four beers and a lime sat on the kitchen table. I opened one, poured it into a tall glass, and sliced the fruit. “Don’t mind if I do,” I said to myself and sat down. My hands trembled.

  I definitely needed a drink.

  24

  We won our second game and then our third and fourth. By the third week in September we were the team to beat in our league, and no one could do it—not yet. Coach Hollyhock from U. Maine contacted Coach Riley and made a date to come see me play. She was coming herself, not sending an assistant. Coach Riley said this was huge. It meant she was interested—very interested.

  Cassie and I were mad at Megan and those guys for going to Stan’s and to other parties, too, but they never got caught and I didn’t care anymore. They could do what they wanted. My world revolved around field hockey, and I poured everything I had into the games we played twice a week. I showed up early at practice and was out on the field before anyone else, working on my flicks and driving at an empty goal cage. I worked my butt off during practice, leading our mile run each day, playing as if every scrimmage, every drill, was a tournament game.

  My goal was singular. I would let nothing—no body—come between me and my future.

  *

  The hallway was deserted.

  I dug through the books and papers at the bottom of my locker, searching for the text I needed to take back to study hall. Footsteps, rubber soles squeaking on the polished wood floor, rounded the corner. Alec appeared.

  I slammed the locker door and headed toward my classroom. Alec and I saw each other every day—we had classes together—but we hadn’t spoken since he’d showed up at my house that night weeks before. Our relationship had become what I’d wanted all along: silent coexistence.

  “Hey,” Alec called after me. “Katie?”

  I spun around and faced him. What could he possibly want now?

  “Listen,” he said, walking up to me until we stood just two feet apart. “I owe you an apology—for barging into your house after Stanfield’s. That was lame. I was drunk.”

  I hesitated, then looked at him. Could he actually mean it?

  “Thanks,” I said, turning to go.

  “I just wanted to give you something.”

  My curiosity won. “What is it?”

  He paused, eyes searching my face. “Here.” He handed me an envelope. “The concert’s already sold out and I know how much you love the Fly. I had an extra.”

  I opened the envelope and stared down at the single ticket. The best band in the world ran through my head involuntarily. The concert was just a few weeks away. Cassie and I tried to get tickets, but they had sold out in what seemed like seconds.

  “A bunch of us are going if you want to come …” He faltered. “ … Or not.”

  Everything in me wanted to go to that concert. But that would be a mistake. Going with Alec would be a huge mistake.

  “No,” I said finally. “Thanks anyway.” I held it back out to him.

  Alec pursed his lips. “Keep it,” he said. “It’s yours.”

  I looked down at my extended hand. He didn’t reach out to take it.

  A moment later, he was gone.

  I stood in the empty hallway, staring at the ticket. All I wanted was to be rid of Alec. One minute he was ordering me to g
o to Stan’s with him and swaggering around my kitchen drunk; the next he was—what? Ignoring me completely? Apologizing? Making it up to me with a free concert ticket? Who was he? He made no sense. Whatever game he was playing, I couldn’t afford to get sucked back in. It was too easy for that to happen; I’d learned that over the summer.

  I had to trust him with our secret—I had no choice—but beyond that, forget it. I had to remember that. I had to.

  *

  I didn’t tell anyone about the concert ticket, especially Matt. What would I say? That I’d won it on the radio? Who wins one concert ticket? No, I also didn’t want to lie to him again. The one lie hanging out there already was killing me. I didn’t need any others.

  But I couldn’t keep it from Cassie forever, and as the concert date got closer, I still didn’t know what to do. I needed her advice. On a warm Saturday afternoon, as chain saws wailed across the lake, I wheeled my bike out of the barn and headed toward her house.

  I sped along the shore of the lake, breathing in the brilliant foliage; whole trees had changed color and lost their leaves, bright reds and yellows twirling down into pools of water where they lay just beneath the surface, shimmering like gems. I hopped off my bike and stood in the shadow of a towering maple tree covered with fiery orange leaves, waiting for Cassie to come out.

  “You have a what?” she shrieked, her voice echoing across the water. “How did you get it?” She loved the Fly as much as I did—maybe more, if that was even possible.

  “Don’t freak out when I tell you… .”

  She was practically levitating. “Oh my God. Oh my God! You’re going to see them live?”

  “No, no, listen. I don’t know if I’m going …”

  “What? Are you insane?” She was barely paying attention.

  “Cassie.” I grabbed her arm. “Alec gave it to me.”

  She stopped. Suddenly she was back, fully present. Sensible Cassie.

  “Alec.” Her voice was flat.

  I told her the story.

  “So he thought he could get you to go to the concert with him.” She couldn’t hide her disdain; she didn’t even try. “What a loser. For someone who’s supposed to be so popular, why act so desperate? I mean, Kay, I’m your biggest fan—but why is he so obsessed with you? Why doesn’t the guy just move on to someone who actually likes him?”