Not that I needed those clues. She’d delivered that message in all its crystal clarity two years ago, and I’d learned it. Hard.
‘We’re throwing a spontaneous graduation party at Pearl’s pool in half an hour,’ Melody said, after a silent communication between the girls. ‘Her parents left for Italy right after graduation – so they won’t be around. If y’all wanna come over, that’d be cool. PK and Joey are bringing vodka. Bring whatever you want.’
Melody pressed close enough for me to feel the warmth of her perfectly toned skin and inhale her still-familiar scent, something spicy and floral, artificial. This time, her fingertips stroked down my bare chest, her thumb grazing my nipple ring.
‘A pool party?’ I gestured with the can. ‘We’ve got a beach, in case you girls didn’t notice. Bonfire lit, beer in hand. What would we want with a pool?’
‘It’s a private party. Just a few people.’ She wrinkled her nose at some younger guys nearby who were farting dangerously close to the fire, where there was an ongoing debate about whether gas was gas. The likelihood of some idiot catching his ass on fire was a genuine possibility. ‘Graduates only.’
Pearl watched the underclassmen, too, sipping from her cup and shaking her head, a shadow of a smile on her face. Boyce slid his eyes from Pearl to me and lifted a brow – letting me know he’d be more than happy to go along with this turn of events. I shrugged. Why not?
‘All right,’ Boyce said – to Pearl. ‘We’ll be over in a bit. Don’t start the party without us.’
Melody rolled her eyes, but Boyce didn’t notice and wouldn’t have cared if he did. He only had eyes for Pearl, poor bastard.
The trailer Boyce shared with his dad seemed to lean into the garage, as though the corroded single-wide was falling-down drunk and could no longer remain upright independently. Two of Boyce’s three bedroom windows opened inches from the exterior brick wall of the shop, so the notion that the trailer required the building’s support was plausible.
Once inside, we hung an immediate right in an effort to avoid Mr Wynn, who was installed in front of the flat screen taking up most of the ‘living room’ wall. Predictably, he hadn’t shown for his kid’s graduation. Boyce’s father: plastered in the evening, hung over in the morning, mean and cold sober all day long, repeat. He was nothing if not reliable.
‘What-er you two shits doin’ home during the game?’ he hollered, not moving from his ragged chair, which was where he ended up sleeping more often than not. Boyce once confessed to me that he’d fought the urge to light it on fire a dozen times.
Bud Wynn’s threats went mostly unheeded now. A year ago, Boyce had punched back during a beating, and since then his father had been all growl, no teeth. Now eighteen, Boyce could probably kill him, and both of them knew it. This made for an uneasy truce I would never understand.
After bagging enough shit for a misdemeanour but not enough for a felony, we were back in my best friend’s Trans Am and driving to the Frank mansion on the other side of town.
‘I’m going for it,’ Boyce announced, punching stereo buttons like he was programming a rocket.
‘Meaning?’
‘Tonight. Me. Pearl. Going. For. It. Wherein it equals her thighs spread and me between ’em.’ He flicked me a look when I didn’t reply. ‘What?’
I bit the ring in my lip, hating that I had to say what I had to say. Hating that I’d rather not say it – especially to my best friend. ‘Just – make sure it’s what she, you know –’
‘Landon, f**k, man.’ He pulled his baseball cap off, shook his head, and stuffed it back on backwards. Huffing a breath, his eyes never left the road. ‘Don’t you know me? Not that I have any real, ya’know, morals –’ he grinned – ‘but I mean, I hear you. I’ve heard you. I got it. I don’t know what your damage is and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. But if and when I screw that superior, brainy little …’ He trailed off, unable to call Pearl something she wasn’t. ‘She’s gonna be beggin’ for it first or I won’t touch her. Okay?’
He slid a scowl my way and I nodded once, satisfied.
I wouldn’t have told him my damage if he’d asked. But he never had.
My mind shifted to Melody. If she begged for it now, would I?
The answer was a quiet, decisive whisper. No.
‘Hey, Wynn? Drop me back at the beach, man.’
He dialled the music down. ‘You don’t wanna go?’
I shook my head and he sighed. ‘Sure, man. Who needs a pool anyway when we’ve got the f**kin’ ocean?’
‘I’m not asking you to give up your final chance for a Pearl hook-up.’
The edge of his mouth curved into a sly smile and he arched a brow. ‘Oh, I’m not givin’ it up. If her parents left town today – they’ll be gone at least a week.’
‘Dude, we just graduated, and she’s going away to college in a couple months. You’ve had three years –’
‘Never say never, Maxfield. That’s the cool thing about being a pigheaded son of a bitch. I do not f**kin’ ever give up.’ We laughed as he U-turned at a wide-shouldered spot in the road and cranked the stereo back up, heading back to the beach.
LUCAS
Silence is never totally without sound. Something to do with the human ear, straining to hear. Even when there’s nothing, there’s a frequency, a hum. Like a satellite, searching for signs of life where there is none.
My father’s voice was gone. Take care of your mother. My mother’s voice was gone. Landon! My choked intakes of breath, grating and loud, had subsided. I inhaled. Let go a ragged lungful of air. Swallowed. Took another breath. Heard each of these actions inside my own head.
Then I heard a meow. Francis jumped on the bed and stalked straight to me. He bumped my bicep with the top of his head, and I let my hands fall from where they gripped the sides of my face. My forearms rested on my knees, elbows digging into my thighs. He bumped me again, hard, like he was trying to herd me, and I sat up.
Barefoot. Old jeans. No shirt. Bed.
Jacqueline.
I turned, but she was gone. The bedcovers were a sea of sheets, blankets and pillows that had weathered a storm. A very good storm. And then she’d told me what she’d done. Pain drilled through the centre of my chest and I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my fingers against it. I would not go there again.
‘We’re throwing a spontaneous graduation party at Pearl’s pool in half an hour,’ Melody said, after a silent communication between the girls. ‘Her parents left for Italy right after graduation – so they won’t be around. If y’all wanna come over, that’d be cool. PK and Joey are bringing vodka. Bring whatever you want.’
Melody pressed close enough for me to feel the warmth of her perfectly toned skin and inhale her still-familiar scent, something spicy and floral, artificial. This time, her fingertips stroked down my bare chest, her thumb grazing my nipple ring.
‘A pool party?’ I gestured with the can. ‘We’ve got a beach, in case you girls didn’t notice. Bonfire lit, beer in hand. What would we want with a pool?’
‘It’s a private party. Just a few people.’ She wrinkled her nose at some younger guys nearby who were farting dangerously close to the fire, where there was an ongoing debate about whether gas was gas. The likelihood of some idiot catching his ass on fire was a genuine possibility. ‘Graduates only.’
Pearl watched the underclassmen, too, sipping from her cup and shaking her head, a shadow of a smile on her face. Boyce slid his eyes from Pearl to me and lifted a brow – letting me know he’d be more than happy to go along with this turn of events. I shrugged. Why not?
‘All right,’ Boyce said – to Pearl. ‘We’ll be over in a bit. Don’t start the party without us.’
Melody rolled her eyes, but Boyce didn’t notice and wouldn’t have cared if he did. He only had eyes for Pearl, poor bastard.
The trailer Boyce shared with his dad seemed to lean into the garage, as though the corroded single-wide was falling-down drunk and could no longer remain upright independently. Two of Boyce’s three bedroom windows opened inches from the exterior brick wall of the shop, so the notion that the trailer required the building’s support was plausible.
Once inside, we hung an immediate right in an effort to avoid Mr Wynn, who was installed in front of the flat screen taking up most of the ‘living room’ wall. Predictably, he hadn’t shown for his kid’s graduation. Boyce’s father: plastered in the evening, hung over in the morning, mean and cold sober all day long, repeat. He was nothing if not reliable.
‘What-er you two shits doin’ home during the game?’ he hollered, not moving from his ragged chair, which was where he ended up sleeping more often than not. Boyce once confessed to me that he’d fought the urge to light it on fire a dozen times.
Bud Wynn’s threats went mostly unheeded now. A year ago, Boyce had punched back during a beating, and since then his father had been all growl, no teeth. Now eighteen, Boyce could probably kill him, and both of them knew it. This made for an uneasy truce I would never understand.
After bagging enough shit for a misdemeanour but not enough for a felony, we were back in my best friend’s Trans Am and driving to the Frank mansion on the other side of town.
‘I’m going for it,’ Boyce announced, punching stereo buttons like he was programming a rocket.
‘Meaning?’
‘Tonight. Me. Pearl. Going. For. It. Wherein it equals her thighs spread and me between ’em.’ He flicked me a look when I didn’t reply. ‘What?’
I bit the ring in my lip, hating that I had to say what I had to say. Hating that I’d rather not say it – especially to my best friend. ‘Just – make sure it’s what she, you know –’
‘Landon, f**k, man.’ He pulled his baseball cap off, shook his head, and stuffed it back on backwards. Huffing a breath, his eyes never left the road. ‘Don’t you know me? Not that I have any real, ya’know, morals –’ he grinned – ‘but I mean, I hear you. I’ve heard you. I got it. I don’t know what your damage is and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. But if and when I screw that superior, brainy little …’ He trailed off, unable to call Pearl something she wasn’t. ‘She’s gonna be beggin’ for it first or I won’t touch her. Okay?’
He slid a scowl my way and I nodded once, satisfied.
I wouldn’t have told him my damage if he’d asked. But he never had.
My mind shifted to Melody. If she begged for it now, would I?
The answer was a quiet, decisive whisper. No.
‘Hey, Wynn? Drop me back at the beach, man.’
He dialled the music down. ‘You don’t wanna go?’
I shook my head and he sighed. ‘Sure, man. Who needs a pool anyway when we’ve got the f**kin’ ocean?’
‘I’m not asking you to give up your final chance for a Pearl hook-up.’
The edge of his mouth curved into a sly smile and he arched a brow. ‘Oh, I’m not givin’ it up. If her parents left town today – they’ll be gone at least a week.’
‘Dude, we just graduated, and she’s going away to college in a couple months. You’ve had three years –’
‘Never say never, Maxfield. That’s the cool thing about being a pigheaded son of a bitch. I do not f**kin’ ever give up.’ We laughed as he U-turned at a wide-shouldered spot in the road and cranked the stereo back up, heading back to the beach.
LUCAS
Silence is never totally without sound. Something to do with the human ear, straining to hear. Even when there’s nothing, there’s a frequency, a hum. Like a satellite, searching for signs of life where there is none.
My father’s voice was gone. Take care of your mother. My mother’s voice was gone. Landon! My choked intakes of breath, grating and loud, had subsided. I inhaled. Let go a ragged lungful of air. Swallowed. Took another breath. Heard each of these actions inside my own head.
Then I heard a meow. Francis jumped on the bed and stalked straight to me. He bumped my bicep with the top of his head, and I let my hands fall from where they gripped the sides of my face. My forearms rested on my knees, elbows digging into my thighs. He bumped me again, hard, like he was trying to herd me, and I sat up.
Barefoot. Old jeans. No shirt. Bed.
Jacqueline.
I turned, but she was gone. The bedcovers were a sea of sheets, blankets and pillows that had weathered a storm. A very good storm. And then she’d told me what she’d done. Pain drilled through the centre of my chest and I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my fingers against it. I would not go there again.
