Crush (7 page)

He walked along the sidewalk, the paperback in his jacket pocket, knocking against his hip. He felt miserable. Oh, he was glad for David. It was cool he and Kirsty had hooked up. But scenes from the future flooded Jonathan's mind, scenes that showed him alone, sitting in his bedroom doing nothing. He pictured David and Kirsty sitting on the sofa in David's basement, playing PS3 or just BS'ing the night away. He wasn't in those scenes, and it hurt deep in his chest. In fact, it was the same ache he felt when he heard about Emma O'Neil. It was a sensation of loss, and it was just too familiar.

A brisk wind ran over him. Jonathan stopped
and took a heavy breath. It helped the pain in his chest, but only for a moment. Soon enough the pain returned, like a hard block of burning coal against his ribs.

“Crap,” he said with a sigh.

A horn blared at his back, and Jonathan jumped as a massive Ram pickup pulled to the curb ahead of him. He recognized the red truck immediately; it was Cade's pride and joy. Through the back window, he saw two heads in silhouette. An oncoming pair of headlights spread milky glare over the glass, making the heads look like they'd been cut from black cardboard.

“Oh, great,” Jonathan said under his breath. The Roid Patrol. Or rather, what was left of them.

He dropped his head and kept walking, pretending not to notice the ginormous vehicle idling beside him. When Ox spoke to him, Jonathan looked up slowly.

“You need a ride or something?” Ox asked. His thick stubble looked even fuller out here, his broad face darker, but he seemed sincere enough. There was no mocking in his eyes, no playful spark that always accompanied his participation in Jonathan's humiliation.

“That's cool,” Jonathan said. “I just live down the street.”

“Cool,” Ox said. “Cade and I were headed out to the hospital to visit Emma. You want to tag? I mean, did you know her?”

“A little,” Jonathan said, his stomach knotting at the sound of her name.

“Well, we all want to show our support, right?” Cade asked. “And there's a party after. We're going to have some beers. You should come with. I mean, to show there's no hard feelings or anything.”

Jonathan looked into the truck. Ox and Cade had been sitting with a couple of girls at Perky's, but they weren't with them now. Maybe they were already on their way to the party Cade mentioned, or maybe they were at the hospital.

The thought of seeing Emma, of not having to walk into the hospital room alone, excited him. He could see she was okay, maybe bring her something. He still had plenty of money in his pocket. He could buy her flowers in the hospital shop and give them to her. Just a friend thing. If he weren't alone, it wouldn't seem too weird.

The only problem was Ox and Cade. He didn't
“Come on,” Cade called from the driver's seat. “Emma will be glad to see you, and the party is gonna rock. There'll be a ton of brew.”

“Yeah man,” Ox said. “Come on. Toby gave you so much crap, the least we can do is buy you a beer. I mean what else are you gonna do? It's Friday night, and it's just getting started.”

“Hells, yeah,” Cade called. “You can't go home this early.”

Truth was, Jonathan didn't want to go home. At home he'd just sit around thinking about Emma or David and Kirsty. He'd hear his mom bitching to his aunt or yelling at his father, if his father had actually stayed home. Still, he wasn't sure about getting in the truck.

“Maybe I could meet you over there,” he said.

“Oh, man,” Cade said. “That won't work. The hospital's like an hour's walk from here.”

“Look, we gotta roll,” Ox said. “I don't know how late visiting hours are. You in?”

“Okay,” Jonathan replied, taking a step toward the pickup.

“Yes!” Cade shouted, happily. “Barnes is moving on up.”

Ox grinned and pushed the door open for him.

 

“What are we doing
here
?” Jonathan asked.

Cade made a left off the main road onto a dirt trail running through the center of a narrow wooded area north of town. The evergreens were lush, and heavy limbs reached down to sweep the top of the pickup like the brushes of a car wash. The ground was hard-packed dirt, filled with pits. Even with the expensive truck's suspension, Jonathan felt every hole and bump beneath the tires.

“We're drinking a beer for Toby,” Ox said. “We're going to toast his memory, man. It's like the thing to do. To show our respects? Then we'll hit the hospital to visit Emma.”

“It's like bad news first, then good, right?” Cade added.

Great
, Jonathan thought. An alarm sounded in the back of his mind, warning him that being out in the woods with his two remaining tormentors was a less than brilliant situation. But Ox and Cade were being cool. They seemed genuinely changed by the fate of their friend.

The Ram made a final lurch, and Cade killed the engine. Next to him, Ox nodded his head earnestly like they were about to view Toby's body in the
funeral home or something. The headlights remained on. Tree trunks, pale in the halogen beams, stood like columns holding up the night. At the farthest reach of the light, the edge of the lake lapped gently against the shore.

“In a few days, they'll have those stupid white crosses and all kinds of crap,” Cade said, sounding solemn and angry. “They'll build a lame little shrine for him. They'll nail pictures and poems and shit on a tree trunk out here, and some brain-dead cheerleader will leave a stuffed animal, like it means something to him. But that's not Toby, man. Toby wasn't about that stuff. He lived, you know? He surfed it fast and nasty. A blunt. A beer. Jacked up on caf and barreling through the night. He wasn't about flowers or poems.”

“Totally,” Ox shouted.

“Yeah!” Cade yelled.

Jonathan leaned back, startled by this display. The guys in front of him threw out their fists, connecting with each others' knuckles. Punch it in.

“For Toby,” Ox said, throwing open the door of the pickup.

Cade also climbed out of the truck, but Jonathan remained in his seat, unsure of what to
do. This seemed like a private moment between a couple of triple-cappuccino-wired first-stringers. He quickly calculated the distance back to his house and figured they were two miles from Crossroads. It would take him at least forty minutes to walk home.

That might not be so bad. Suddenly the idea of attending a party filled with cut-and-paste replicas of Ox and Cade didn't sound terribly fun. And he wondered if visiting Emma was ever really part of the plan. How late were visiting hours?

Before he could make up his mind, Ox leaned into the truck and said, “Come on, Barnes. You're with us now.”

“Cool,” Jonathan said, and he almost smiled.

He slid toward the door. The phrase “You're with us now” went right to the center of him. At school on Monday, Ox and Cade might pretend he wasn't a part of this night, but right now he was with them, and despite all of the alarms ringing in his head, Jonathan wanted that more than he'd ever admit to himself.

The air outside was icy. A bitter wind blew over the lake. It gained speed as it pushed its way through the tree trunks.

Ox slapped him on the back. The giant was smiling.

Cade met them at the nose of the truck, holding a six-pack of Budweiser. The headlights were still on, projecting their shadows over the woods. Cade's rose up a thick tree trunk on the left, and Ox's flattened out over a low nest of bushes. Jonathan's ran forward, over the dirt trail, a dark facsimile of his shape, stretching out toward the water lapping at the lake's edge.

“It's freezing,” Ox said.

“Antifreeze,” Cade replied, hefting the six-pack.

“Well, hand one over.”

A minute later, they all stood on the shore, looking out at the plum-colored lake. This was the only part of the lakeside that hadn't been developed. Lights ran a ring around its edges, except for a dark patch on the far shore. That was the city park. Two tiny pinpricks of light broke that patch of darkness as a car pulled into the park's drive.

Probably a couple of kids looking for a place to make out
, Jonathan thought.
Maybe David and Kirsty
. Then the distant lights went out.

“They found him over there,” Ox said, lifting his beer and gesturing to their left. “They said
somebody dropped him from high up, like out of a helicopter.”

“Totally,” Cade said. “They did a full
CSI
episode on his ass, and they like knew he got dropped into the water.”

“And he was already dead,” Ox added. “No water in his lungs. So it's like, somebody snatched him, right? Then they smothered him like that fat-ass Weaver. Then they hauled him out here and…splash!”

“Weaver was way up in a tree,” Jonathan said. He sipped from his own beer and the chill made him shiver.

“Right,” Cade said. “Right. Now, what kind of a psycho does that? What kind of psycho
can
do that? It's like some supernatural crap. I mean, serial killers don't rent helicopters, and besides, no one saw anything. So, what's up with that?”

“It's not like some psycho threw him or something,” Ox said. “I mean, even Cade and I couldn't toss a guy up into a tree or way out into a lake.”

“It's weird,” Jonathan said, and took another quick sip from his beer. “Shouldn't we be getting to the hospital? I mean…you know…visiting hours?”

Ox and Cade didn't reply. They just looked at him. Both smiled. They looked like they had just solved some great riddle and were very pleased with themselves.

Cade crushed his beer can in a fist and tossed the litter into the trees. Ox turned and set his on an old stump. Both boys turned to Jonathan, that same satisfied expression carved deep in their faces.

Then the atmosphere on the lakeside changed. Jonathan felt it like another blast of cold air off the lake.

A trap, you idiot. You walked right into a trap. They were never going to visit Emma, and there was never a party. This is your party.

Jonathan backed up a step. He dropped the beer can, and it rolled along the dirt path, leaving a dark trail of spilled fluid in its wake.

“See,” Cade said, “Ox and I were wondering exactly how strong someone would have to be to launch a guy like Toby that far out into the water. I mean, to do it hard enough for one of those cop doctors to notice the damage. Right?”

“Knock it off,” Jonathan said.

“Chill out, Barnes,” Ox said. “We gave up on the
idea about two minutes into it. It's like we don't have any high-tech crap to actually measure that kind of thing.”

“Right,” Cade said, stepping forward. “We totally gave up the science project. We thought of something better instead.”

Jonathan turned to run, but Cade was too fast. He lunged forward and got a handful of Jonathan's coat and shirt. He clamped down on his shoulder painfully and hauled him back. Ox stepped up and grabbed Jonathan by the lapels. Both boys looked down at him, their faces cruel masks in the flood of the headlights behind him.

“We decided to do this for Toby,” Ox said. “He would have wanted it this way.”

“It's a hell of a lot better than flowers and teddy bears,” Cade added.

Panic flared in hot sparks through Jonathan's chest. Christ, what were they going to do to him? One last beating in the name of Toby Skabich? Maybe throw him against a tree a few times to make up for the days they hadn't managed to toss him into a locker?

From their right, a rustling of bushes rose up, and Ox whipped his head around.

“It's just the wind, Numbnuts,” Cade said. “Come on, let's do this. It's freezing out here.”

Then Jonathan was being lifted off the ground. Cade had his ankles, and Ox slid around to his back, grabbing him under the armpits. They hauled him like a corpse to the water's edge. Jonathan struggled, nearly freed himself of Ox's grip, then realized if he did shake free, he'd only succeed in cracking his head against the trail or maybe a rock.

They were going to throw him into the lake. An offering to their dead friend, a token of their appreciation for Toby's guidance over the years. He taught them to be bullies and now they were showing how well they'd learned the lesson.

“On three?” Cade said, grinning down at Jonathan.

Then he was being rocked, swung in the air. Once the two larger boys had him moving at a good speed, Ox started to count.

“One,” he said.

The tree line, the sky and the stars all rocked to the side. Then rolled back. In their center was Cade's cruel face.

“Two,” Ox called.

“Don't!” Jonathan said, more frightened by the impending humiliation than the freezing water.

“Three!”

He sailed through the air. Wind cut at his neck and cheeks. His arms flailed out, scrambling to find something to hold on to, anything to stop this. But then he was falling. He hit the water with a crash.

His body went terribly numb as he sank into the lake. A thousand icy needles punctured his skin, and his chest grew so tight from the cold that he felt certain his ribs would crush his racing heart. Frigid water pushed into his nose, stinging his sinuses. His wet clothes acted as weights to drag him down.

Jonathan paddled frantically. He kicked with his legs. A submerged tree branch scraped his ankle. Then his foot hit the muck at the bottom of the lake. The other soon followed. He swatted at the water with all of his strength until he could stand upright. Water cascaded over his face as he broke the surface. He gasped for air, then spit out a mouthful of spray. He brushed back his hair and wiped at his eyes.

His feet were so cold he couldn't feel them anymore.

On the shore Ox and Cade laughed. They punched in another congratulations and followed it quickly with a high five. Both boys retrieved fresh beers and clinked the cans together.