Come Sit By Me (5 page)

HAMILTON HIGH'S
first football game was on Friday night, against a school named New Milford. I was supposed to cover it for the newspaper, but I would have gone anyway. I was curious. My school in New York didn't have a football team. We played soccer instead. Less violent.

It was a spectacle, or at least the best a town the size of Hamilton could do. The field was illuminated by lights, making the grass look greener than it really was. The cheerleaders, all girls, put on a show and worked the crowd into a frenzy. I didn't think I would get caught up in it, but the sight of seven of the most spectacular girls in the school jumping up and down in tiny skirts and tight sweaters did a lot for my morale. Everybody in the stands dutifully helped spell out H…A…M…I…L…T…O…N. Probably the longest word some of them knew how to spell.

Terry wouldn't be caught dead at one of these games—although you weren't supposed to use metaphors like that in the newspaper. But somebody sat down beside me anyway. Unfortunately, it was Seese. “I see you didn't write anything in the newspaper about Caleb,” he said.

“We ran out of space,” I muttered.

“Yeah, they wouldn't let you,” he said.

The Hamilton team ran out onto the field just then, and I was glad to stand up and cheer with everybody else. Except Seese, who stayed seated and even gave them a finger—though not too openly. “You don't like the team?” I asked after I sat down again.

“Bunch of dumb jocks,” he said. “North Hawkins, big deal. He's the star of the team now, but he wouldn't have been if Ronnie and Marcus were still here.”

Everybody seemed to worry about the effect the shooting had on the team. Too bad about the girls and the librarian.

“Maybe the coach liked North better,” I said.

“He was too good a coach. You never saw Ronnie and Marcus play.”

I decided to keep an open mind. The game started and I settled back to watch. North was the Hamilton quarterback. He showed on the first series of downs that he could both throw and run, if necessary. What he needed was patience. He threw a couple times when he should have held onto the ball, and he decided to run when there was a receiver open. Hamilton failed to score and turned the ball over to New Milford.

It was pretty clear that the only way Hamilton could win was to score a lot, because New Milford's team totally outplayed Hamilton's defense. New Milford's linemen just pushed our guys out of the way, and their running backs came through the holes, ripping off runs of eight, ten, twenty yards, going right down the field for a touchdown. The opposing quarterback hardly threw a pass. His only job was to take the snap and hand off the ball without dropping it.

Hamilton got the ball again, and this time North was a little steadier. He managed to move the ball downfield, but then the drive got stalled and Hamilton settled for a field goal.

New Milford took over and showed again that they couldn't be stopped unless they fumbled or Hamilton got lucky in some other way. By the end of the first quarter, the score was 24-3. The fans on our side of the field started to lose interest, and people in the stands either booed or chatted among themselves.

Unfortunately, Seese was still next to me. “Told you he was no good,” he said.

“You can't totally blame him,” I said. “The defense stinks, and even when we have the ball, North hasn't gotten much support.”

“He would have had support if Ronnie and Marcus had still been on the team.”

“Well, it's not his fault they aren't around,” I said.

“He didn't
want
them here. He just wanted to be the star so his stats look good. He wants to go to West Point, and his grades aren't that high.”

This was so irrational that I would have got up and left, except that I couldn't write a story about the game unless I knew the final score.

“He's a big gun nut,” Seese said. “His father was in the military. He could have gotten Caleb the guns.”

“I understand a lot of people around here have guns,” I said. “And that still doesn't explain why it was Cale who did the shooting.”

Seese wandered off, peddling his conspiracy theory elsewhere, I suppose.

New Milford's coach wanted to give his reserves some playing time, so the final score was only 52-17. North managed to pass for one touchdown and run for another in the second half, when New Milford's first string was sitting on the bench, high-fiving each other.

Terry had told me to get some quotes from the players after the game. She was a bug on quotes, though she often rewrote them anyway, so I could have made them up. But I noticed North standing around on the field after the game, talking to the cheerleaders. He was still in his uniform, and it made him look bigger and stronger than he actually was. The girls didn't seem to mind that the team had lost.

“Hey, writer man,” he said when he saw me approach. “You know these ladies?” he asked with a sweep of his arm. I had seen most of them around school, but wouldn't have dared to speak to them. Now, however, they all smiled at me. I had the North seal of approval. I was O.K.

He reeled off the names of the girls, and one of them took a step closer to me. Her name was Colleen. She was blond, but I had to make an effort to keep my eyes at a level more or less above her neck. “I hear you're from New York,” she said. I thought she was the most beautiful girl who had ever actually spoken to me, and unfortunately my vocal chords were suddenly paralyzed.

I nodded, and that was good enough for her. “I'd love to go there,” she said. Her eyes held onto mine. They seemed to be carrying a message:
Don't stare at my boobs. They'll always be there, and you can look at them some other time. Just look into my eyes
.

The eyes were blue and pretty good to look at too, by the way.

I became aware that she'd asked me a question. “Why did you leave there to come to a dumb old place like Hamilton?”

I realized I couldn't give the honest answer: Because my father thought he could buy a house cheap.

So I said, “Well, we wanted to move out where there wasn't as much crime.”

Just as I was thinking how dumb that sounded, Colleen began to laugh. Not because I was dumb. I realized with a shock that she thought I had made a joke. And suddenly I felt like the funniest guy in the world.

North came over with his arm around another of the girls—Ronda. She was a cheerleader, after all, and pretty spectacular looking too. But I thought Colleen was even better. “Hey, Paul,” North said, “why don't we pick up some beers and go visit the dead?”

The girls laughed at this, even Colleen. I felt betrayed. How could she laugh at some other guy's joke? Which in my opinion wasn't that funny.

Then I understood. He meant the cemetery. I nodded, because what else could I do? I had no idea where we could get beer, but of course North would take care of that.

“Let's take your car,” North said. “It's more comfortable than my truck.” For some reason, that made me feel like the coolest guy. I was the one with the car. Dad didn't seem so out of it after all.

The girls and North went off to change out of their uniforms. As far as I was concerned, Colleen could just stay in the short skirt and sweater, but when she returned, she looked even better. She had on khaki shorts and a blue sleeveless top. I did manage to sneak a look at her boobs, and was a little surprised to see that they didn't appear quite as big as before. Or perky. Or something. Well, they were still in the high percentile of breasts I'd observed up close, so I wasn't feeling buyer's remorse.

We got into my Toyota and North directed me to a 7/11 outside of town. He showed me his palm, and I realized I was supposed to put money on it. I supplied a ten, and apparently that was enough, because he went inside the store.

He returned with two six-packs of a local beer called Utica Club. I didn't get any change.

North started to tell me how to get to the cemetery, but I said I already knew. “You been out here before?” he asked, with a leer in his voice. I decided not to tell him that my little sister had shown me the way.

“Just looking around,” I said.

“Find anything?” he asked. I had a feeling he had something specific in mind, but I just tossed it off with another weak joke. “Seemed pretty dead to me,” I said.

When we arrived, there were already five or six cars parked around the main road. North showed me how to get onto a smaller path where I turned the car around so that we were facing the center of the cemetery. I saw the angel outlined against the moon. North noticed me looking at it. “We brought our own angels,” he said. The girls thought that was hilarious.

North and Ronda got into the back seat, taking the beer with them. I heard him popping the tops. He handed a couple over the seat, and Colleen and I took swigs from ours. As usual I didn't much like the taste of it, but I knew that soon it wouldn't bother me all that much.

“So tell me,” said Colleen, snuggling close to me. “Are the girls in New York like the ones on
Gossip Girl
?”

“Pretty much,” I said. I never watched
Gossip Girl
. As far as I knew, it had no resemblance to any real school, in New York or out.

“Are they more like Blake or Leighton?” Colleen asked.

“A little of both,” I replied cautiously.

“You know, I think I could be in a show like that,” she said. “I look more like a high school girl than they do. They're really in their twenties, did you know that?”

“Is that right?” I drank some more beer, wondering why I'd agreed to this. I could hear Ronda giggling in the back seat.

“North?” said Colleen. “Give us another couple beers before you get busy.”

That made Ronda giggle louder. I heard more popping sounds as North opened some more cans, and over the seat they came. Colleen took them both and said to me, “Hurry up. You're not even done with the first one.”

As I downed the rest of my first can, I looked over my shoulder into the back seat. At first I couldn't see anything. Then I realized that both of them were lying down. I understood why North hadn't wanted to bring his truck. No back seat.

That left me alone in the front with Colleen, who had moved even closer to me. She finished her second beer, tossing the empty can out the window. I wondered how North would handle it if she asked him for a third. He seemed to have his hands full. The sounds Ronda was making now were more like gasps than giggles.

However, Colleen took my can out of my hand and raised it to her lips. She smiled at me as she had a few swigs. Then she set it down on the floor, raised her head, and closed her eyes. I got the idea.

Kissing Colleen was an experience. I had kissed girls before, but none of them had responded with as much enthusiasm as she did. She gave it all she had, including her tongue. Bump. I had to remind myself to breathe. She was sucking the air out of me. And believe me, I needed air.

After a while, she started squirming around. I sort of thought touching her breast wouldn't be a move that she would object to. But when I put my hand on her pullover, she reached up and took it. I figured she would push it away, but I was wrong.

She moved it down and under her top.

That was when I learned why she hadn't looked so big after changing her clothes. She had taken off her bra.

Bump. Big bump.

Plan ahead. A good motto.

I hadn't planned any of this. But she had.

I just went where she took me, and once I started I just hung on with both hands and enjoyed it. She found something to hold too.

Believe me, it was a great ride.

I WAS
FEELING
pretty wired by the time I got home. It was a good thing that I remembered to clean out the back seat after I pulled the car into the garage. I could imagine what Susan's reaction would be if she saw not only empty beer cans but a used condom on the floor. North apparently had an even better night than I had.

I didn't want to toss all that stuff into our garbage can, because my Dad might see it, so I stuffed everything into a garbage bag and put it in the trunk. I could get rid of it later.

Dad was still up, reading. Wouldn't you know that on the one night when I wanted to come in quietly, he'd feel like talking? “Out pretty late, champ,” he said.

“Yeah, I, uh, met some people at the game and we hung out,” I said.

“I hope hanging out didn't include drinking and….” He didn't finish.

I knew what he meant. Drinking and driving. “No, we went to somebody's house and played video games,” I told him. I really felt guilty. I hated lying to my Dad, but one of the things he was really strong on was drinking and driving. And really, I barely had the one beer. I was pretty sure getting wacked off by Colleen got rid of any alcohol in my system.

“By the way,” he said, “who came out on top?”

I blinked, because at first I thought he meant me and Colleen. Then I realized he was talking about football. “The other team,” I said. “I'm supposed to write an article about it.”

“Don't let your schoolwork take second place to the newspaper,” he told me. “I know how that can be.” He thinks that if he'd gone on to get a doctorate or something, he'd be something more than a business writer. Maybe, but then he couldn't stay home and work.

“I won't,” I promised. I had a lot more things to think about than either the newspaper or my schoolwork. Such as when would I be going out with Colleen again.

The next day, I woke up and looked at the cell phone on the table next to my bed. I had asked Colleen for her cell number last night, and she gave it to me. Should I call her? Was it too soon? I looked at the time. 6:30. Yeah, probably too early.

I should have gone back to sleep, but I was hungry. I got out of bed and dressed. Nobody else would be up on a Saturday. So I went downstairs and made myself some scrambled eggs and toast.

I started thinking about last night and before I knew it, I was getting another woodie. I had to stop this. I finished breakfast and decided it would be a good time to get rid of the stuff I had in the trunk of my car. I drove down to the 7/11 where North had bought the beer, because I knew there was a dumpster in the back. I tossed the bag in there.

As I was getting back into my car, I saw a shiny black pickup truck go by. It was North's. I even caught a glimpse of him in the driver's seat. I wondered what he was doing up and around this early. He had more reason to be tired than I did.

Since I really had nothing else to do, I turned and followed him. We went down the road that led south of town. He wasn't hard to keep in sight, because there was very little traffic.

He turned into the cemetery's entrance. I knew I couldn't go in after him without being spotted, so I just drove on until I found another place to turn around.

What was he doing in there? It didn't look like anybody else was in the truck, so he couldn't be headed for another round with Ronda. Had he lost something last night? We hadn't gotten out of my car, and whatever he'd used was now in the dumpster. Anyway, he would have called me if it was anything really important.

As I drove past the cemetery on my way back, I looked over and saw his truck parked near the crypt where the Crappers were buried. But I didn't see North.

Back home, Susan was already up, and she wanted to know where I'd been. I should have bought something at the 7/11. I told her I needed to fill the car up with gas.

“Did you go somewhere far last night to empty the tank?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“Because Nina Reynolds texted me that you went out with Colleen Donnelly.”

A network of 14-year-old girl spies all reporting to my sister. That's what I had to deal with. “We just went over to North's house and hung out,” I said.

“Is she hot?”

“Who? Nina?”

“No, dummdumm. Colleen.”

“She's a cheerleader.” That should explain it.

“Yeah, how come you're going out with a cheerleader?”

“Maybe I'm hot too.”

Susan laughed at the idea of
that
. She wanted to ask more, but I escaped to my room and shut the door.

I tried to do some homework, but images of Colleen kept popping into my mind. Around noon, Dad knocked at my door. The mail had come, and I had a package. “Did you order something?” Dad asked as he handed it to me.

“A book,” I said. “
Look Homeward, Angel
.”

“Oh.” He remembered us talking about it. “Well, I hope you won't find it too tough.”

I soon found out what he meant. What was this guy Wolfe, a dictionary? I needed one before I got through the first page. Phthisis. What was that?

And it just wasn't that the words were unusual. It was like he was trying to take as many words as possible to say something that could have been said a lot easier. It made the book tiring to read, and the story didn't seem to be getting anywhere in a hurry.

Still, I was determined to keep going. This was the book that Caleb wouldn't bring back to the library. I wanted to find out why. After about an hour, though, I was only on page 23. And there were over 500 in the book. If there was a sex scene, I had yet to find it.

I decided it was time to call Colleen. But I sat there with the cellphone in my hand for another twenty minutes, figuring out what I was going to say.

Thanks for removing your bra last night. I always have trouble unhooking
them
.

No.

I just wanted to tell you that your boobs were the best I ever felt
.

Hunh-uh.

All right, so honesty shouldn't include too many details.

I took a deep breath and called her phone number. She answered after three rings.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi, Colleen. This is Paul. How you doing?”

“Fine, and you?” Did she sound happy to hear from me? I thought so, but it wasn't like she was overjoyed or anything.

“Good, yeah, I'm good. Listen, I just thought I'd call to tell you I had a good time last night.”

She giggled. What did that mean? That she thought it was funny that the only word I could say was “good”?

“I hoped you did,” she said. It sort of sounded like she was smiling. Too bad I didn't Skype her.

“Do you have Skype?” I asked.

She paused. I realized I had switched subjects abruptly. “I mean, I was just thinking it would be nice to see you,” I said.

“Oh, you wouldn't want to see me now,” she said. “I look awful.”

“I'll bet.”

“No, really, I'm still lounging around with practically nothing on.”

I had to press the phone against my ear to stop my hand from shaking. “I wouldn't mind,” I said, trying to sound cool.

She laughed. It was a great sound. “Well, I would,” she said. “You'd hate me if you saw me.”

Right. I'd probably turn away in horror
. “Anyway,” I said, “I'd like to go out again sometime.”

“So would I,” she said. “I'll let you know.”

Let me know? Let me know? What about tonight?
But all I said was, “O.K.”

“My mom wants me to do something, so I've got to get dressed,” she said. “But I'll see you at school.”

“Right. See you then,” I said.

After we hung up, I felt shot down. What was she doing tonight? Or Sunday afternoon? She'll see me at school? Right. And then walk right on by like nothing ever happened.

I spent the rest of the day doing homework, writing the article about the football game, and trying to read
Look Homeward, Angel
. None of which I enjoyed.

Even when my Dad fixed sloppy joes for dinner, my mood didn't improve. He asked me if I was going out with my friends tonight, which only reminded me that I didn't exactly have any friends.

“I'm staying in to read
Look Homeward, Angel
,” I told him.

He was impressed. Great. Now I'd really have to read it.