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  “I’m sorry,” Maddie said, “But if you people weren’t so mean to everyone all the time, maybe we’d care, maybe we’d give Nolan a hug instead of wishing he’d die.”

  “You people?” Abby asked.

  “You and all your people.” Maddie nodded.

  “How are they my people?”

  “You’re all brutal. Plus, you volleyball girls all look alike,” Maddie said.

  “Racist,” Abby whispered.

  “Against asshole jocks?” Maddie shouted.

  “Apparently,” Abby said, nodding.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, Maddie and Abby were hugging and crying. I’m not kidding. Gus and I sat on the Love Sac, watching their exchange and listening to music—some dude named Perry Como singing 1950s Christmas songs. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

  “What if they start making out?” Gus asked. “I don’t know how I’d feel about that.”

  “I really like them both,” I said. “Those are two good women.”

  “Here’s to that. I need to make a toast,” Gus said. He stood up and lifted a bottle of beer over his head. “You! All of you,” he shouted. “A toast.”

  Maddie and Abby let go of each other and turned toward him.

  “I love you,” Gus slurred. “Maddie, you are the best girlfriend who has lived in this place. In this world. Abby. Felton has loved you since before you were born to the local orthodontist.”

  “How embarrassing,” Maddie said. “He’s never said anything?”

  Abby shook her head.

  “To both of you,” Gus cried.

  “Cheers,” Abby said. Then she sucked down more of that black liquid.

  It’s true. That Abby is top notch. A top-notch lady.

  I rolled off the Love Sac and walked up to the bar. I grabbed Abby around the waist and pulled her up to me. Our faces were inches apart. I had to close my left eye not to go cross-eyed and lose my balance. I could feel Abby’s heart banging against my chest through her sweatshirt.

  “I’ve never kissed anybody,” Abby whispered.

  “Oh my God!” Maddie screamed. “Are you made of plastic?”

  “I don’t think so,” Abby said. “Just…never happened.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I have loved you since before your dad ever fixed a tooth. I do. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Abby breathed out slow, the sweet smell of her breath made my damn legs weak. “Okay. Good. I want you to kiss me,” Abby said.

  We kissed. It was okay. I’d only kissed Aleah before (and I loved that). Abby felt different. She felt cool. She tasted sort of like licorice and ice cream.

  We kissed more.

  “Woo!” Gus and Maddie cried.

  “That’s okay. That’s not too bad,” Abby said. “Right?”

  “Yeah. I liked it,” I said.

  ***

  “You used to call Felton a fur ball!” Gus shouted at Abby.

  “No. Jess did,” Abby said. “I called him other stuff.”

  We all leaned on the bar. We drained that black liquid from the bottle. The floor moved underneath my feet. The Christmas lights blazed in my eyeballs. Perry Como sang about Santa Claus.

  “Pig Boy has it worse. Don’t you understand? I’m lucky. It’s bullshit, mothers. Pig Boy is never going to turn out to be big,” I shouted.

  “Stop talking about him. He’s not the only one in the world,” Gus said.

  “His brother shot himself,” I barked.

  “I know, I know,” Gus said.

  “Wait. Shh. Before I pissed off the State of Wisconsin, Pig Boy emailed me to tell me that he knows who killed his brother,” I said.

  “Someone killed Curtis?” Maddie asked, her eyes wide. “Curtis didn’t kill Curtis?”

  “That’s what Pig Boy said.”

  “Oh shit, I hope it wasn’t Nolan,” Abby said.

  “Jocks think they can just slam everyone’s body around and it won’t hurt.” I slammed my hand on the bar. The bottles and glasses jumped. “It’s like everyone is just a damn beach ball to kick,” I said.

  “You’re a jock,” Abby said. “You’re the biggest jock in the world.”

  “No he’s not,” Gus said. “Felton is a geek in jock pants.”

  “The football players at the colleges I visited wanted to kick me like a beach ball,” I said, nodding.

  “They pushed you around?” Abby asked.

  “They better not,” I said. “They wouldn’t mess with me.”

  “Oh my God. We shouldn’t let it happen,” Abby said. “What’s wrong with us? We need to stop them.”

  “You want to stop Karpinski?” I asked. “You want to tell him what you really think?”

  Abby paused.

  “Karpinski’s the worst,” Gus said. “He mooned me in Walmart and gave me the finger. Just last week. It never ends with that guy.” Gus shook his head.

  “Why are people so mean?” Abby asked. “I used to think it was so funny. I used to think everyone was a beach ball.”

  “I’m not a beach ball,” Maddie said. “I’m really not, okay?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Abby said.

  ***

  Abby, all almost six feet of her, lay on top of me on the Love Sac.

  “Why we never do this before?” I asked.

  “I know! I love drinking!”

  “Not just drink. You know, hang together, baby.”

  “I don’t know,” Abby said. “I had soooo much business to take care of.”

  “Buying and selling business?”

  “School and volleyball, and I don’t like all these boys breathing on me. They’re gross.”

  “I’m not gross.”

  “Not that gross. I like you best,” Abby said.

  “I like you best too. Better than Karpinski,” I said.

  “This is the best night I ever had,” she said.

  “I think it’s like dinnertime,” I said. “We have just begun…”

  “Oh shit! We have to eat!” she said.

  Then Gus shouted from the records, “Five Stairsteps! Holy shit!” He held up the album with the people and their giant Afros. “Let’s hear it!”

  “Not again, man,” Maddie said. Gus had played it at his house another five times when Maddie got there.

  “Oh yes,” he said.

  He played “O-o-h Child,” and within about a minute, Abby was totally bawling. Her tears coated my face.

  “The singers are so nice,” she said. “We should be so nice.”

  “Safe,” I said.

  “My parents aren’t even my parents anymore,” she cried.

  “I know,” I said. “Where are the adults?”

  “They don’t exist,” Abby cried.

  ***

  Maybe an hour later, Cal showed up in the barn. He had two bags filled with sub sandwiches from Pickle Barrel Subs, which had to be like a forty-minute round-trip drive. “Sammies!” he shouted.

  “Awesome, man!” Maddie said.

  “You dudes are eating and staying. Nobody is going to drive any place, you got that? Eat up!”

  “He’s an adult,” Abby said.

  “He’s building an airplane,” I said.

  “I want to go to Mexico,” Abby said.

  “With me?” I asked.

  “Okay,” Abby said. “Let’s totally do it.”

  “Hey, Cal, can we come with you to Mexico?” I asked.

  Cal cocked his head at me. He put the bags of subs on the bar. “Hell no, man. You’re exactly what I want to get away from.”

  “Me?” That hurt my feelings.

  “Can we at least visit sometime?” Abby asked.

  Cal thought for a second. “Sure. Why not?”

 
“Thanks, man!” Abby said.

  ***

  My last memory of the night is so blurry. Abby snored on my shoulder. We stretched on the Love Sac. Gus, Maddie, and Cal all had cigarettes in their mouths. Cal played an electric guitar (pretty loud), and Maddie and Gus pounded on bongos. Every now and then, Cal would scream, “Rock it, mother scratchers!” and Maddie would call back, “We rock it!”

  How did I fall asleep during that?

  Really, it was only like nine at night.

  Booze.

  ***

  I woke up spooning Abby. Morning light came in through small windows high up on the barn’s walls. The world smelled like sweet, rotten alcohol. We were covered with a dirty bedspread. Abby turned her cheek to my mouth. She whispered, “Are you really my friend?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m here.”

  My mouth tasted so gross. “I think mice slept in my mouth,” I said.

  “Yeah. You get sort of used to it,” Abby said.

  “You have a lot of experience with this?” I asked.

  “No,” Abby said.

  Before we left, Cal made us all bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches. He gave us Advil. He said, “Now don’t make it a habit of coming out here. You got it? There’s no open invitation. I might chase you out next time. I have guns. Lots of them.”

  “Shut up, Cal,” Maddie said.

  “I’m serious, baby girl,” Cal said.

  “Really, really serious?” Maddie asked.

  “Very, very serious.” He pointed at each one of our faces.

  ***

  On the drive back, Gus said, “Hope there isn’t trouble. Hope we’re okay. I think I left a note for my parents. I did, right? I said I was staying over at your place, Felton. Did you call Jerri?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Are you worried? Are you in trouble?”

  “No,” I said.

  “I’m not either. My mom doesn’t get mad at me for bad shit I do,” Maddie said. “She gets mad at me when her life sucks.”

  “My mom probably didn’t notice I was gone,” Abby said. “She goes to bed at like eight.”

  “Great,” Gus said. “My parents give a shit, so I’m the one who’ll get in trouble. What a deal.”

  Nobody said anything.

  Abby dropped me at Gus’s so I could pick up my bike. She grabbed my hand as I got out and pulled me toward her. She squinted at my face. She said, “Talk later?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  Chapter 23

  We Love Our Little Boy Soooo Much!

  As I unlocked my bike from a street sign in Gus’s front yard, he stood staring up the street.

  “Hey,” he said, “Would you come inside for a minute? I don’t want to face Teresa alone.” Teresa is Gus’s mom.

  “I’m sort of tired.”

  “Good. I’ll make you some coffee.”

  “I don’t drink coffee.”

  “You’ll want to drink coffee in college.”

  Clearly Gus wasn’t going to let me go. Why did I have to face Teresa?

  Life is change. Gus’s parents have always been pretty strict, and they totally love punishing and grounding Gus and calling Jerri to tell her the crap we’ve done. That morning, we found his parents reading the newspaper in the living room. Did they yell and scream? Did they ask where the hell we were?

  No.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” Gus’s dad said.

  “You boys have a fun night?” Gus’s mom asked.

  “Pretty great,” Gus said.

  “You hear the big news, Felton?” Gus’s dad asked.

  “Maybe?” I said.

  “Amherst! Top-ranked liberal arts college in the nation!” Gus’s mom said.

  “Well, one of the top,” Gus said.

  “Number one most years,” Gus’s dad said.

  “Awesome,” I said.

  “Oh…” Gus’s mom said. “My boy worked so hard and look what he did.” She sort of teared up. “I’m so proud. I’m so proud…”

  “Jesus, Mom,” Gus said. “Get a grip.”

  His parents totally beamed at him.

  “I’m going to make some coffee. You guys want any?” Gus asked.

  My body felt like lead pajamas. My stomach knotted up.

  “I have to run,” I said.

  “Stanford is a heck of a school too, Felton,” his dad said as I stumbled out the door.

  Biking was hard.

  Chapter 24

  Lead Pajamas

  I stumbled in the door from the garage. My guts burned and my hands trembled. I thought I might puke. I thought of that black liquid we were drinking the night before, and I had to run into the bathroom. I didn’t barf. In the mirror, my face stared back at me. My Jewfro hadn’t been shorn since right before I went to Florida. (Before that, I went to the barber every other week.) It stuck up all over. There were dark circles under my eyes. Seemed like I should probably shave.

  The phone rang. The machine beeped. Someone said: “You’re a fucker, Reinstein.” They hung up. Wisconsin.

  “No. Shut up. Please,” I said out loud. My drunkenness didn’t make Wisconsin go away.

  I stumbled out. On the floor in front of my bedroom, I found a piece of paper.

  Jerri had left a note for me.

  F,

  I’m at Terry’s tonight. I’d like to unplug the phone. The calls are terrible. I’m sorry, honey. Are you okay with me unplugging the phone?

  Love,

  J.

  Yes, I was ready to unplug the phone. No, I didn’t like Jerri.

  She was with Terry. Terry Sauter, a man who stopped speaking to his kids just because of a divorce.

  A minute later, I fell into bed. An hour later, I woke up. Dad had been in my dreams. No. Please. Dead Dad hanging from the rafters. No…

  I don’t want to go back here. Please.

  Dad wasn’t buried.

  I tried watching the Homo Reinstein rap to get angry again, but I didn’t get angry. My stomach hurt. It hurt my feelings. I walked through the house and unplugged the three landlines. Jerri had said to. I couldn’t hear another bad message.

  I lay down in bed, so sick, and dreamed of Aleah and me biking, delivering newspapers, like we did during our summer together. I woke, turned over, grabbed my phone, and I texted her: I’m with Abby S now. I’m sorry.

  Aleah responded immediately. Why do you want to hurt me?

  My response? Because you did this to me.

  Aleah: Do you want to talk?

  Me: No.

  Then I literally fell on my face on the floor. Then I got up and tried to run. I put on workout clothes: a jacket, sweats. Headed out the door. Ran about two hundred yards down the driveway and onto the main road. Then I barfed in the ditch.

  Oh shit. This is bad shit. This is the worst. Okay. Okay. Andrew?

  I hobbled back up to the house. Grabbed my phone to call Andrew. Found a text from Abby: Feel like crap. You want to come over?

  Yes, I did.

  Dudes like me want to be normal.

  Just going to run over to my new girlfriend’s house! No time for your doctor, Andrew!

  Chapter 25

  Drunken Abby and a Plan

  I did notice when I ran to the road and barfed that February had gotten more February-like. Didn’t think to dress more warmly. I left too fast to think.

  I biked to Abby’s freezing my ass off, the wind cutting through the light jacket I’d worn the day before. (It smelled like Cal’s cigarettes from the barn.) I shivered. My teeth chattered. I groaned.

  In sixth grade, Abby had moved from my neighborhood by the golf course to a brand-new giant house on the west edge of town (with big, fake-looking pillars). Terry wanted to show off, I guess. He showed Bluffton how much he m
ade straightening out all the kids’ ugly teeth. It was a three-mile ride through freezing.

  I breathed hard. I felt tired in my legs. My muscles burned. When I’m myself, it takes forever for me to get tired.

  At least I didn’t puke again.

  I rolled up Abby’s big drive, panting, gulping for air. I dropped my bike on the ground and bent over, trying to catch my breath (my breath rising in clouds around me).

  Nolan answered the door when I rang the bell. Even though he’s just a freshman, he’s a pretty big kid. He’s a jock, of course, just like his sister.

  He glared at me. He said, “What do you want?”

  “Abby.”

  “Take her,” he said. He left the door open but walked away into the house. I didn’t hear him call for Abby or anything.

  I stood for a while longer (I imagined throwing Nolan off a bridge), then rang the bell again.

  A few seconds later, Abby showed up in a robe with a towel around her head. She was just showered and I could smell all that soap and lotion and my heart beat funny. “Hey, Rein Stone,” she said.

  I followed Abby through the house. I hadn’t spent any time inside it since the Sauter divorce. Before the divorce, Abby’s mom cleaned constantly, like a jumpy rabbit. Terry would show up on occasion and crack jokes and call Abby “Princess” and crap (which she clearly liked). Even while me and my friends were there, eating pizza or whatever, Abby’s mom was bustling around us, picking up napkins, wiping pop drips off the counter. Sort of sad and annoying.

  The house in February? Messy. Empty feeling. Trashed. There were dishes on the coffee table and side table and winter coats lay piled on the floor. A vacuum sat plugged into the wall on the side of the living room. Looked like it had been sitting there for a long time because there were tortilla chip crumbs on the floor right in front of it (next to a bowl of half-eaten chips).

  Piles of dirty clothes lined the hall heading to Abby’s room.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “I should be cleaning. I can’t do it,” Abby whispered. “I have to wash my own clothes, but I don’t touch anything else.”