The People Next Door (19 page)

Kyle was zoned out but not sleeping when his Egg hummed against his leg. Lying in his darkened bedroom, he removed the smooth
black device from his cargo shorts pocket. It was almost three in the morning. His SMS icon was glowing, sender unknown. He
scrolled over the glyph and thumbed the roller. It said,

Are U OK?

He’d texted Will earlier and told him to come get his car at King Soopers, the excuse being that a cop had been watching them
and he had to walk June home. But Will and the rest of his friends were in his address book and their names would have been
displayed. He sent:

Who this?

The response arrived a long half-minute later.

Your partner in crime

Kyle woke all the way up. Nearly sick with excitement, he typed:

June?

that’s me

howd u get my number?

i have my ways

I guess u do. Are u ok?

Yeah just scared. like really scared.

Me too but it wasn’t our fault. he had a heart attack. it was an accident.

wish i could believe that

it’s true. what else could it have been? he was three times your size. no way you did that.

i know but i feel so guilty for leaving him there

When it was clear the fat security guard was not going to wake up, they had run from the Gunbarrel plaza, across 63rd, out
behind Celestial Seasonings head-quarters, then walked the two miles toward Kyle’s home, through fields behind the houses
on Jay Road. But they hadn’t spoken much. June seemed to be in shock, so eventually he stopped asking questions and just walked
behind her, his shyness compounding within him, and when he looked up again she was nowhere to be found. He was sure he would
never see her again, that she blamed him for what had happened, but here she was.

He typed:

it’s going to be ok. he was an asshole with authority complex. I won’t let you take the blame.

u r too sweet. i shouldn’t have encouraged you to steal.

I was gonna do it anyway. glad you were there.

You were amazing. almost made it! too bad we didn’t get to hang more.

This struck him with such force that for several minutes his thumbs locked up and he could only stare at the screen in a state
of amused idiocy. So, whatever had hurried her away, it wasn’t about him.

Where did you go after? U disappeared. was worried.

Sorry. it was better for me to go alone, safer for you.

He didn’t know what to say to that. She added:

Did I wake u?

No, its cool

why up so late?

Just can’t sleep

tonight or always?

Now that he thought about it, he realized he hadn’t been sleeping well for a long time. He sent:

guess I am a night owl or insomniac or something.

are you super stressed? i mean before tonight?

my parents are fighting. dad losing job, mom hates dad, sister fucking crazy, etc. but other than that fine, lol. why are
you still up? did you get in trouble?

i’m sorry, Kyle. parents suck.

yours too?

they’re not my real parents. monsters.

that bad?

worse

like how?

you know

no. tell me

we have same problems as you, but different and worse

different how?

do bad things on purpose = evil

no, seriously

i am serious. you should get away while you can.

run away with me?

i would. seriously. you have no idea what’s coming.

Tell me.

later

why not now?

You’ll probably h8 me.

No way.

very very disturbed gurl.

Kyle swallowed, pulling another confidence rabbit out of this new hat.

I think u r perfect.

A stupid yellow smiley icon, a dumb sign, and yet it scorched the retinas. For a long time he sat against his pillows, breathing
through his mouth. He wanted to know everything about this girl. He typed:

Where do you live anyway?

OMG you don’t know yet?

?

your mom didn’t say anything?

About what? you lost me

we’re neighbors, silly.

Whuuuuuut? u r messing with my head.

so not

You moved to our hood? On Jay?

NEXT DOOR

Why u wanna tease me like that?

come out and see for yourself. keep me company. house behind yours. my room = corner window 1st floor.

He sat up violently and lost the Egg in his tangled sheets. Found it, clutched it to his stomach.
She was practically waiting for him in his backyard
. He could climb out his bedroom window and … and it seemed like she
wanted him to. This was insane. No, his dad was still awake. Kyle had just heard him banging around a few minutes ago and
he hadn’t come back down the hall yet. If he tried to sneak out again his parents would kill him. But June … oh, this girl.
He sat on the edge of his bed. It was too much, overwhelming how much he wanted her. It scared him, the power she had already.
She broke the paralysis.

where did you go?

Sorry, was just trippin. seems unbelievable.

but true.

2 good to B, but ok.

oh, one sec.

She wrote nothing more for a very long time, or five minutes. He began to feel acute loss, the comedown of not being attached
to her in the ether. He became certain she had fallen asleep or forgotten about him. He stared at the tiny red screen, waiting,
waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally she came back.

sorry. have 2 go out.

now?

i’ll explain later. my dad’s on a mission.

Aw, well.

but I’ll see u at the bbq, right?

What bbq?

a week from Saturday. my mom invited your family over. 2 o’clock.

i’ll be there. but wish i didn’t have to wait so long.

it’s going to be … uncomfortable. maybe you shouldn’t come.

no way am I missing chance to see u

i’m serious, kyle. we’re dangerous. i wish I could stop it. my fam is bad news. you should get away while you can.

no … really?

they’re coming for me now. please be caref

But the rest of that text never arrived. Somebody caught her texting him? Her dad came in the room? He didn’t know, but after
two hours of waiting for the Egg to wiggle in his palm, the sun began to rise and he couldn’t help but fade into what passed
for sleep these days. He dozed with his eyes half open and dreamed of her, moving into it seamlessly.

They were in an empty, unfurnished house far away from here, near a sea, a party house with no guests, stranded together as
on an island. The rooms tropically hot and gray with light from thick clouds. She was on a wooden chair, dressed in a sheer
white blouse tight around her stomach, lacy at the shoulders, and a long skirt, billowing white. Her face was as smooth and
pure as a mask of cold cream, her eyes dark wet spots. Her tiny nostrils flexing with breath, the air from her lungs warm
on his neck. Extending from beneath the skirt was her white flesh, too soft to touch, as if she might turn to wisps and slide
through his hands, the sheer lace holding
her entire body together as a vase holds a bouquet, as a room holds smoke, and his hands were delicately pushing the skirt
up, each inch higher a day he died and was reborn. Her fingers in his hair, pulling him, her soft belly warm against his lips,
the curl of brown hairs around her navel, and the herbal-sweat taste of her skin …

And then it all released from him with agonizing force and he was relieved, falling into a dreamless sleep-state that spanned
most of a day.

Late the following Tuesday night, Eric Pritchard’s white Honda Civic left the pavement and began to crawl and swerve over
crenelated ruts gouged into the trailhead like a Matchbox car under the thumb of a not bright playground bully. The balding
tires slipped against tree roots, and rocks the size of Thanksgiving turkeys stabbed the undercarriage. Eric fought the wheel
jerking and spinning in his palms while keeping one eye on Jason, who was clutching the dash as a twenty-four-ounce Red Bull
sloshed onto his Dickies work pants. This final stretch of ‘road’ into the unnamed and unofficial campground (their friends
called it Flintstone Park for the vitamin-shaped boulders that marked the site), located seven or eight miles up Sunshine
Canyon, had been washed out a thousand times and was known for stalling Jeep Wranglers, but they were too lazy to walk the
last half-mile.

Also, if they left the Honda at the turnoff, a ranger would know some kids were up here in the gully fucking around again,
starting fires and throwing beer cans into the woods. Eric figured if he could just clear the last
couple hairy dips without blowing a tire, they’d be able to get their fucking boom on without any hassles.

‘Jesus Christ, dude, slow down.’ Jason’s face had turned green and looked vaguely plant-like. ‘Gonna chuck my pizza.’

‘I got this.’ Eric’s stomach roiled at the reminder of all that cheese tumbling around inside them like a load of wet socks,
which made him think of
loads
, which made him think of Justin Timberlake suckin’ off five guys, which made Eric want to puke. Not to mention the little
morsels they’d sprinkled on the hot mess of Xtra-Large Blackjack pie before devouring it at Chautauqua Park, which were now
shooting darts of poison into his organ lining. ‘You feeling anything yet?’

‘Maybe,’ Jason said. ‘But I don’t think so. You sure Billy didn’t rip us off? That shit was mostly dust.’

‘Some of that dust was fucking purple, bro. It’s only been twenty minutes. Trust me, in half an hour we’re gonna be out of
our tits.’

Eric saw a smooth slope and steered high and right, the fucking rice burner canting until Jason was sitting above him like
a ventriloquist dummy on his shoulder, holding the handle above the window and slopping Red Bull down the side of his face.
Bitch just about went up on two before the Honda came down too fast and a smashed-beer-can-sound exploded beneath the trunk.

Jason groaned as they leveled out. ‘Fuuuuck, man, wazzat a tire?’

Eric laughed, and it was the laugh of a hungry crow. ‘No, but I think the muffler just got ass-raped.’

A few minutes later they coasted into the clearing, the deep pines sloping around them in four directions. A couple of small
plateaus for camping, though no one really camped here any more, just loitered. The old rock circle around the fire pit had
been kicked apart, but that was okay. It was warm tonight. They wouldn’t need a fire.

‘You really want to sleep here?’ Jason said as Eric shut the motor off. ‘We don’t even have a tent.’

‘I’m not driving once this shit kicks in.’ Eric shoved his door open. He plugged his iPod into the Blaupunkt’s jack, dished
up some club mix that made his heart run like it was playing its own video game. ‘Grab the sleeping bags.’

They unloaded their supplies from the trunk. Two thin bags leaking poly-fil, two pillows, a tarp with no straps or stakes,
a flashlight, a bag of Glo-Sticks for twirling, a six pack of Mickey’s Big Mouths, the bottle of Wild Turkey they never drank
but pretended to sip at, and the stale remains of a five-pound bag of animal crackers.

‘Do you still have my lighter?’ Eric said.

‘Yep.’

They hiked the gear another thirty paces to the spot, dropping it around a long log. Jason straddled the timber, lit a cigarette,
and sucked like it was an oxygen tank.

‘Did you bring the little ax?’ Jason said. ‘We need firewood.’

‘Should be in the trunk, but maybe say fuck the fire tonight.’

Jason rubbed his arms. They were thin and nearly bald, though he had a dome of black hair. ‘Is this Tuesday? I don’t think
the rangers care on weekdays.’

‘Yeah but why risk it?’

They opened the beers and slouched around in a tired circle, kicking pine cones, smoking. Eric had left the headlights on
and the beams cut over the blackened ground before hitting the steep slope where dirt became grass became forest. The pine
trees behind them went way the hell up, like narrow jagged ladders to the sky, and the mountainside was a black-thorned maze
of them. The car speakers went
uhn-tiss-uhn-tiss-uhn-tiss
with a monotony that should have been soothing but for some reason tonight only made Eric angry. He looked at the plastic
bag of Glo-Sticks, the nylon cords to string them, and didn’t have the energy to break them out.

It occurred to him for the first time that there was something pathetic about this. Two guys sitting in the woods pretending
to set off their own little rave. He wasn’t sure why it had seemed so important to come here tonight, only that he was fucking
sick of Boulder, sick of the fucking losers they usually hung out with, fucking Sarah and Hannah and Ally, Tyler and Brad,
with his fucking skanky Mexican hoodie and ragweed, all six of them sitting around Ally’s shithole apartment off of Baseline,
the carpets wet, the bedroom with Ally’s stupid fucking unicorn tapestries and that black light, the whole place reeking of
gerbil piss. It occurred to Eric, not for the first time, maybe he hated all his friends.

‘Fuck.’ Jason was sitting on the log, clutching his belly. ‘This stuff always makes me have to shit.’

‘Go in the woods.’

‘Did you bring any toilet paper?’

Eric laughed. Jason squirmed. He stood up suddenly, alarmed.

Eric smoked, the nicotine calming his stomach. ‘What?’

‘If today’s Tuesday, we have Workplace Econ in like eight hours.’

‘Dude, who gives a fuck?’

‘Just sayin’.’

Eric dropped half his Mickey’s down his throat. ‘Do you think anyone gives two shits if you go to that bitch’s class?’

‘If I don’t graduate my moms will kill me.’

‘Your moms is too busy trying to please Mark. Your new fuckin’ dad, Mark. Mark the fucking lawn shark.’

Jason actually looked hurt by this. ‘Mrs Nash said I might still be able to take some classes at Front Range. I can’t deliver
pizzas for the rest of my life.’

Something flew sideways in the woods, a glint of white streaking past the corner of Eric’s eye.

‘What?’ Jason said. ‘You see somethin’?’

Eric shook his head. ‘Probably an owl.’

Jason glanced around. ‘All we have to do is show up.’

‘You’re seventeen. You have years to figure it out.’ Eric had to nip this shit in the bud, right now. If Jason didn’t stop
whining about his future before the fungus kicked in, Eric’d spend half the night trying to talk him out of a
tree, like, fuckin’ literally. ‘You don’t need a fucking degree to make big dollars. Do you know how many of these shitheads
are going to go off to college like good little fascists and build up a fuckload of debt only to realize there are no jobs?
My uncle Burt didn’t go to college, started his business with ten grand from a grass buy. He owns three car washes now, plus
a Taco John’s. He’s fucking loaded.’

‘Yeah, but—’

‘But shut up, is what. You’re fucking up my shit. Jesus. You wanna go to school tomorrow, no one’s stopping you. But fucking
can it for tonight. I’m trying to relax.’

Jason looked away. He’s still a kid, Eric thought. Look at him there in his fucking baggy shirt and droopy fucking pants,
skate shoes two sizes too big. His moms bought them that way so they’d last a whole year, except the joke was J’s feet stopped
growing in tenth grade. He looked like a scarecrow who’d slid down the pole, his head too big for his scrawny neck. I could
break that neck, Eric thought. Be like snapping a Glo-Stick. You just take it with both hands and push with your thumbs and
there’d be a little
click
. But instead of turning bright green or blue and lighting up from end to end, J’d just turn no color at all and lay there.

‘Jesus,’ Eric said. ‘I think it’s kicking in. I’m thinking some sick fucking shit.’

‘I don’t feel anything.’ Jason sipped his beer and looked down at his shoes. ‘I think Billy fucked us.’

‘Billy wouldn’t do that.’ Cause if he did, he knows I’d beat his ass.’

Jason stood and walked a little ways into the dark, out of the headlights.

‘Where you goin’?’ Eric said.

‘Take a piss.’

‘Aw, don’t say that. Every time I’m trippin’ all I have to do is think about pissing and then I have to go, and once I start
going, it’s every twenty minutes for the rest of the night. Where does all this piss come from? You ever wonder that?’

Jason didn’t answer. The air cooled. In between songs a tree branch snapped somewhere above and behind them. Eric thought
of deer. If a deer walked by now …

‘What are you babbling about?’ Jason said, zipping up on the way back.

Eric stared at him. Did Jason even listen any more? Why didn’t anyone listen any more? Sometimes Eric felt like he was shrinking
out of the world, his voice getting quieter and quieter until one day he would be standing in a corner of an empty room, a
gray room with no furniture, just huge gray walls that went on forever, everyone else two thousand miles away, and no matter
how much he shouted, they would never hear him.

‘Nothing,’ Eric said. ‘Are you rollin’?’

‘Maybe a little.’

Something thumped to the ground, heavy like a boulder rolling into some bushes.

‘What was that?’ Jason said.

Eric scanned the trees. He saw no movement.

‘Hell if I know. A deer?’

‘But you heard it too.’

‘I hear lots of things,’ Eric said.

Jason sat on the log and pulled out a Glo-Stick. He broke it, tilting it from side to side. The stick turned a sad shade of
pink. Jason began to twirl it between his fingers, the way his brother Rickie used to twirl quarters over his rings. Rickie
went to Afghanistan two years ago. They’d brought him home in that box last fall and even though Jason was at the funeral,
he said Rickie was still over there in the mountains, blasting dune coons. Eric thought that was fucked up but never said
anything to Jason about it. The Glo-Stick fell in the dirt. Jason stared at it for a while, then dripped a long string of
saliva down to it. When the string touched the pink, he cut it off with his teeth and let it fall. He smeared the stick with
his foot, burying it in the cold fire ash.

Eric took off his shirt. He was skinny all the way up and down, with the face of a falcon. He liked the bony hardness of his
frame. He had no chest muscles. His breastplate was like armor, his belly button a puckered coin standing out. He was wearing
his shark-tooth necklace and his goatee reached almost to his throat, soft as silk. In his earlobes were two spikes as long
as golf tees, made of tempered steel. Purportedly Maori designs had been tattooed around his left arm; from the blade of his
left shoulder, a purple panther that seemed to be clawing its way out of his skin.

‘I hate this part,’ Jason said.

Eric picked up a long stick and began swiping at the air. ‘What part?’

‘Waiting.’

‘Shit’s getting fuzzy. Those trees are starting to woowoo.’

‘You sure you’re not just drunk?’

‘I don’t get drunk,’ Eric said, opening another Mickey’s.

Jason leaned back on the log, staring up at the night sky, a faint band of the Milky Way streaking over them. The iPod shuffled
into Kanye’s ‘Monster’ and Eric’s blood roared in approval.

‘You know what we should do,’ Eric said.

‘What?’

‘Take this to class.’

Jason sat up and looked at the gun, his eyes darting to Eric’s cargo pants pockets like
What else you got stashed in there?
Eric smiled, rotating the weapon before his eyes. It was heavy. You could feel the fucking death heavy in it.

‘Where the fuck did you get that?’ Jason said.

‘Tol’ you I was gonna get one.’

‘What is it? A .22?’

‘It’s a .38, dumbass. My uncle gave it to me.’

‘It’s not loaded, right? Seriously, E. That thing better not be—’

Eric fired a shot into the sky. The buck sent a nice twang through his wrist bones. Jason jumped to his feet as the echo rolled
away.

‘Cut the shit! What the fuck did you do that for, man?’

Eric snickered. ‘I ain’t playin’.’

‘Fuckin’ ranger’s gonna come.’

‘Let him.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Jason jammed his hands in his pockets. ‘Don’t even joke about that, you sick bastard.’

Eric flew the gun in the air, a boy imagining his model airplane’s first flight. ‘Here, piggy piggy piggy. I forgot to bring
my time sheet in, Mrs Nash.’ He laughed. ‘I hate that fat bitch. You see the way she looks at me, J? I can’t decide if she
wants to slap me or suck my dick.’

Jason looked away, shaking his head. They spaced out, grooving on their private thoughts. Five minutes passed, though it could
have been half an hour. Eric wasn’t sure when he realized the Civic’s headlights had been doused, but they were now.

Monsta, monsta, I’m a muthufuck
— The music stopped. One second it was on, the next the mountain air was bugs and silence, every scrape of their feet on the
pine needles too loud.

‘Do you have a license for that?’ a man with a deep voice said behind them.

Eric spun, thrusting the gun against the darkness. ‘Who the fuck?’

The man was standing behind the open door, hardly more than a shadow on the driver’s side, one arm resting on the roof. Eric
lowered the gun as if he could still hide it behind his leg. He tried to think of something fearsome to say but his brain
was crowded with orange balloons, adrenaline making him blink over and over. His mouth was very dry. Yeah, definitely booming
now, kid.

The guy just stood there a minute, solid, unmoving. His face was a faint white smudge. Everything else was black.

‘Hey, how about you get the fuck away from my car,’ Eric said.