“Listen, Mike.” Coach Kinneson sat beside me on the bench as I switched out my cleats for my grungy Nikes. “I want to talk to you about your future.”
“What future?”
She cast me a weird look, like I should know. “We need time to sit down and discuss it,” she said. “At length.”
What length? My future was predetermined. I’d be shoveling pig slop at the Merc till I died.
“Do you think you could stop by my office on Monday?” She started jamming bats into the golf bag she used for hauling equipment.
Coach Kinneson also happened to be the new principal of Coalton High. I squatted to help her as a little quiver of fear shot up my spine. She’d only been at CHS three months and already she had a rep as a hardass. You didn’t go to Dr. Kinneson’s office unless you were in deep shit. People would wonder what I’d done.
“Mike?”
You also didn’t argue with the principal. “Sure,” I said. “No problem.”
“Come during your homeroom. I’ll make time for you.” She squeezed my shoulder on her way out. Pivoting back, she added, “I can see it now.” Arcing her hand in front of her face, Dr. Kinneson quoted an invisible headline, “Hometown Girl Makes the Grade.”
What grade? The only grade I knew for sure was Miz S’s A in Geometry. Had Dr. Kinneson been talking to my teachers? Is that what this was about? What’d I do? I did enough to get by. More than enough.
Jamie was sprawled on the hood of my truck, pumping his pom-poms at people as they drove off. He had a future—in the hospitality industry.
“Get in,” I ordered him. He scooted off the front of the truck and jumped in the passenger side. We slammed our doors in unison. As I followed the stream of cars heading back to Coalton, Jamie cranked up the radio. On I-83, I accelerated to the speed limit. There was no limit for Mike Szabo. Not today. I was feeling good. Forget Dad, the anniversary. Forget the future. We’d won both games, the sky was blue, the wheat was green. Toby Keith came on the radio and Jamie cranked up the volume. We had hand gestures for this song. Pointing at each other, poking our chests, we sang along with Toby at the top of our lungs: “I wanna talk about me, I wanna talk about I. I wanna talk about number one, old my, me my…”
I dropped Jamie off at the Dairy Delite. There was an hour to kill before my wastoid of a brother needed the truck, so I figured I’d swing by the Merc, see if Everett could use me. I wasn’t scheduled to work, but I could always use the money. Especially if Darryl was out spending Dad’s social security on stock cars.
I slowed at the stoplight. Idled the engine. It wasn’t a conscious decision, almost as if my brain shifted gears and took me along for the ride. I turned in the opposite direction of the Merc, toward the main power line, heading straight for Xanadu.
Chapter Six
Xanadu came tearing out of the house and sprinting across the yard as if she’d been anticipating my arrival. “Thank God you’re here,” she said. “I’ve been calling you all morning to get out here and save me. Where’ve you been?”
“I had a game,” I told her. How’d she get my number? How else? From the tri-county phone book.
“What do you mean, a game? What kind of game?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, then lifted it in the back and let it fall.
“Softball,” I replied, wishing I could touch it. Run my fingers through it.
Her eyes scanned me up and down. I knew what she was thinking: Coalton’s a bush league.
Maybe we were. Maybe we weren’t.
“Are you any good?” she asked.
I shrugged. “We’re okay. We usually go to quarterfinals.” In case she didn’t know what that was, I added, “The state tourney.”
“Not the team.” She gave my shoe a little kick. “You.”
Me? My foot tingled. “I made first team All-State two years running.”
Did she smile? Did she realize what a big deal that was? To me, anyway. My time was running out. “Come on, let’s go.” She grabbed my jersey front and yanked me toward the driver’s side door. I stumbled at the unexpected move, the strength and force of her.
Faye appeared on the porch and Xanadu called back, “Mike and I are going to town, Aunt Faye. That okay with you?”
Going to town. I liked the sound of that.
“I finished unloading the dishwasher and folding the tea towels like you asked.” Xanadu crossed her eyes at me, adding in a mutter, “Six hundred fucking tea towels. Who uses tea towels, anyway?”
I waved a greeting at Faye. Please, I prayed, let it be okay.
Xanadu didn’t wait for Faye to answer. She climbed in on my side and slid across the front seat. My duffel was in the way so she tossed it into the back, then kicked off her sandals and curled one leg underneath her, fanning her hair out over her shoulders.
I don’t remember starting the truck.
“Hold on a minute,” Faye called.
“Shit,” Xanadu hissed under her breath. “Just go.”
I turned off the ignition.
“Dammit.”
“Sorry,” I said. I felt I should respect Faye’s wishes. This was her house.
Faye disappeared inside the mudroom and I said, “She probably forgot about those other hundred tea towels in the cellar.”
Xanadu snorted.
I hoped I was forgiven.
A moment later Faye came back out balancing two pies, one in each hand. She handed them to me through the open window. Yes! I was famished. From her apron pocket, Faye removed a jar of jam and offered it to me. “I bought a bushel more strawberries at the market than I needed. Take these to your mother. You and Darryl enjoy them too.”
“Thanks,” I said, setting the pies beside me on the seat, then changing my mind and transferring them to the back. We didn’t need anything between us. The pie plates fit perfectly inside two toilet seat rims behind me. I slid the jam in the front pocket of my duffel.
Faye peered around me at Xanadu. “Be back by dark.”
Xanadu expelled an audible sigh.
Faye added, “You’ll want to be here when your probation officer calls.”
My head whipped around.
Xanadu snarled, “Let’s go.” She folded her arms. “Oh wait. I need my purse.” She pulled up the door lever and leaped out the passenger side. Eyeing Faye across me, she added, “I keep my drugs in it. In case you were checking.” Xanadu left the door swinging free and dashed toward the house.
“I think that was a joke,” I said to Faye.
She didn’t smile. I kept my eyes on the screen door, willing Xanadu to reappear—now. Faye remarked, “She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?”
Work of art, I thought. What could I say? Our opinions differed.
Xanadu returned, sliding in beside me and slamming the door.
“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s fly.”
I revved up the truck again and shifted into gear. Faye’s eyes stayed on my face as I circled the drive. What? Did she think I wouldn’t get Xanadu home before dark? I’d get her home.
Once on the road Xanadu wrinkled her nose at the radio. “I hate country,” she said. She fiddled with the knob to find another station.
“Good luck,” I replied through the static. On a good day we could get two FM stations out of Goodland. Both country. “You can listen to the farm report on AM,” I told her.
Xanadu widened her eyes at me, then laughed. I felt the heat rise between my legs. Her eyes looked brighter today. Clearer. Cleaner. She wasn’t wearing all that gunk. Not that it mattered how she expressed herself, but she was a natural beauty. She didn’t need enhancements. She punched off the radio and leaned her head against the seat back. “Thank you for coming,” she said, closing her eyes. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”
I felt your need, I almost whispered. The pull of you.
“I don’t care where we go, I just need to get the hell out of here for a while.”
I didn’t care where we went either. I just wanted to spend every waking moment
with her.
We tooled down the rutted road at a leisurely sixty-five mph. I figured she was a girl who liked speed. She flung an arm out the window to catch the breeze and parted her lips, seeming blissful and at peace. I was right.
“What was the score?” Her voice rose over the wind.
“What?”
She’d turned her head. “Of your game.”
“Oh. Nine to eight, first game. We won. Twelve-zip, second game.”
“Ouch. Your twelve?”
I nodded.
Her eyes fixed on my biceps. “All-State, huh? I guess that’s a big deal around here, huh?”
Was she being sarcastic? “It’s big,” I said flatly.
She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mike. I don’t mean to… you know. Demean your life.” She pressed the button on the glove box and it popped open.
I panicked. What was in there? Dad’s hip flask? Jamie’s grass? Once I found a package of condoms, obviously Darryl’s. Made me wonder what he really did on his road trips to Goodland.
She didn’t rummage through the crap, just shut the flap and said, “I know you think I’m this rich city bitch who has no appreciation for the joys of boonie living.”
I smiled. “No. I don’t think that.”
“What do you think of me?” She paused for a second before adding, “Don’t answer that.”
I almost blurted the truth, that I thought she was perfect in every way. “I… I think you’re cool,” I said.
A joyful smile lit up her face. I’d made her happy. I pledged to make her happy every day in every way.
We were nearing the stoplight and I was racking my brain about what to do in town. She’d want to have fun, but what was fun for her? We didn’t have a movie theater. No clubs. Just the Lucky Strike Lanes. I’m sure.
Xanadu said, “I didn’t mean to lie to you before, Mike. About what happened to Tiffany. It’s just, I didn’t know how you’d react when I told you I killed someone.”
My foot slammed on the brake. “What!”
“And now I know,” she added coolly.
The light was green so I pulled ahead into the empty lot at the grain elevators. People shouldn’t joke about death. Not even her. “That whole ecstasy thing, that girl dying, that was just a story you made up?”
Xanadu frowned. “No. Of course not. It happened. The only difference…” She paused. “The truth is…” She let out a ragged breath. “The truth is, I’m the one who sold Tiffany the E.”
My eyes might’ve bugged out of my head.
“Yeah,” Xanadu said. “I was her dealer.”
“Jesus.”
She lowered her head, then covered her face with her hands. “I know. It was bad. I got charged with possession. And, um, distribution of a controlled substance.” She uncovered her face, but kept her head down. “I’ve got a police record now. And I’m expelled from school. Thank God they tried me in juvenile court or I could’ve gone to jail.”
“Jesus,” I said again.
“I know.” She met my eyes. “But I spent forty-five days in detention and paid a thousand-dollar fine and did sixty hours of community service to repay Tiffany’s family.” Xanadu repeated, “Repay her family. Like I could ever do that.” Her eyes welled with tears. “I never lied about it in court. I never blamed anyone. Tiffany’s death was all my fault and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. I have to live with it. Every. Fucking. Day.” She buried her face in her hands again and started to cry.
“Hey.” I reached over to touch her arm or something. Make contact. “Hey.” It was all I could think to say.
Xanadu sniffled and swiped her nose with her forearm. “What do you think of me now?” she said.
“I think you’re b—” I almost said it. Because she was, beautiful. She’d made a mistake. She admitted it. She’d paid for it. She was still paying. We’ve all been there. “I think you’re brave,” I told her.
“What?” She blinked and her eyes grew wide. “Really?”
“Yeah. For telling the truth. For owning up to it. That had to be hard.”
“It was. God, Mike. It was so hard.” With her palms, she blotted her tears and smiled tentatively at me. I smiled back. My hand was on the cushion and she reached over and covered it with hers. “You’re great.” Her fingers curled under my palm. “You know that? You get me.”
Heat surged through my body. Yeah, I got her.
Xanadu added, “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“No. Of course not.”
“I came here to get away. From everybody. Everything. I’m still on probation, but Dad arranged for me to stay with Aunt Faye and Uncle Lee. He thought maybe if I got a fresh start…” She swallowed hard. “I can’t believe you’re okay with this. It’s like… you don’t even care.”
I cared. I cared about her and what she was going through.
“I’m glad I found you,” she said quietly, increasing the grip on my hand. “After it happened, after I got charged, everyone turned against me, all my friends. Even my best friend dumped me. God.” Her eyes welled again. “I really need a friend.”
I needed more than a friend. I needed her to stay like this forever, stay close, hold my hand, trust me. I threaded my fingers through hers and pulled her hand closer.
She straightened in her seat. “Come on,” she said, giving my fingers a final squeeze, then releasing them, and me. “Let’s go have some fun.”
She was a girl, right? Girls liked to shop. The best clothes shopping in Coalton was at the Merc. Everett stocked a decent selection of jeans and tees and long skirts and coats. There was this black canvas Carhartt jacket I’d been drooling over since last winter.
I couldn’t picture Xanadu in any of those clothes, though. They were hick duds.
What else? Food? Eating topped my list of enjoyable activities. I was a girl, to some degree. Everyone liked to eat. I decided on the Dairy Delite. There was no other choice, really.
The Dairy D looked deserted. Jamie must’ve been in the john. At the takeout counter, I called, “Hello. Anybody home?” Jamie shot to his feet. He’d been crouching on the floor in front of the frozen custard machine, dispensing a stream of chocolate soft-serve directly into his mouth. I sighed at Xanadu. “Meet Jamie. Jamie, Xanadu.”
Jamie looked from me to her. A grin spread across his face, ear to earringed ear. “So you’re the infamous Xanadu.” He leaned across the counter and waggled a finger in her face. “I heard about you, girl.”
A look of terror streaked through her eyes.
“Not from me,” I said quickly.
“You’re the talk of Coalton,” Jamie said. “Meth-heads. God. I would’ve loved to have been there to see Glinda’s face when you said that.”
“Glinda?” Xanadu asked me.
“Mrs. Stargell,” I explained. “It isn’t her real name.”
Xanadu’s brow furrowed.
“Jamie makes up names for people.”
“Not true.” He shook his head from side to side. “I give identity to one’s inner being. I visualize their essence.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ask him what he calls his mother.”
Xanadu arched eyebrows at Jamie.
“Elle s’appelle Geneviève,” he said with a fake French accent. So queer.
Xanadu laughed. She was indulging him. Not a good idea. “Make up a name for me,” she told him.
“Honey,” he said, “your essence has already been identified and personified by your name.”
That was true. She was the embodiment of poetry.
Jamie slapped the countertop. “What can I get you, girls? The special today is the chili cheese dog, but I don’t recommend it. The buns are hard as day-old dicks and the hamburger was looking a little E. coli, if you know what I mean. The curly fries are hot and fresh cuz I just made a new batch. Well, half a batch now.” He tilted his head. “We’re running low on custard too, don’t ask me why.” He stuck an index finger into his right dimple and twisted it.
Xanadu laughed again. “You,” she said, pointing to him. “Both of you are going to save my life.”
Ditto, I thought.
Jamie quipped, “We’re out of Life Savers. We have gobs of sprinkles for sundaes, though.” His tongue, I saw, was a hideous shade of green and pink and orange. “Oh hey, Mike. Kung Pao called over a few minutes ago.”
“Shit.” I glanced at my watch. Twenty after three. “Listen, I’ve got to go drop the truck off for Darryl. Take care of Xanadu, will you? I’ll be right back.”
Jamie eyed the length of her. “I’m not sure what to do, seeing as how I’m not that kind of boy.”
I shot him a silent warning: Shut it off.
She made some remark I didn’t hear as I tore to the truck. Jamie had her laughing, anyway.
I parked at the curb and honked, left the keys in the ignition, then sprinted the eight blocks back to the Dairy D. Xanadu had ordered onion rings and a Mr. Mistee, and was sitting across from Jamie at the outdoor picnic table. He’d fixed us our usual—a raspberry Mistee and an order of curly fries to share.
“What do you do around here for fun?” Xanadu asked him as I eased in beside her.
“You mean instead of this?” He lassoed a curly fry in the air.
She sipped on her Mistee. Sitting so close to her, the charged air between us made the hair on my arms stand up.
Jamie tapped his chin. “Let’s see. Mike is into Internet porn.”
I lunged across the table and slugged him in the chest.
“Hey, owie.” He rubbed his pec. “Don’t damage the merch.”
“You were damaged from birth,” I muttered.
“You’re the one with hormone deficiency.”
Xanadu laughed. “You are both so gay—” She stopped. She swiveled to face me. “I didn’t say that.”
Jamie said, “Use it or lose it.” He flapped a limp wrist at her.
I hated when he got this way. All show-offy, exhibitionist. He validated the stereotype. He played to it. Exhaling an irritated breath, I scooted out the end of the bench and said, “Anyone else want ketchup?”