Elliot Allagash (21 page)

He clamped his hand over my mouth and leaned in close. His breath was foul and his makeup had cracked from perspiration. It was shocking; Elliot had trained me, coached me, fought for me for years. Had he held this card the entire time, just in case?

“It’s over,” James said. “You can go.”

“How could you do this to me?” I demanded.

He sighed wearily.

“Trust me, kid,” he said. “You owe me a thank-you.”

• • •

I wandered out of the studio and back to school, but I couldn’t bring myself to enter the building. I could see people I knew in the lobby, talking, laughing, slapping hands. They probably didn’t know about the fiasco yet, but it was only a matter of time. The entire world had ended and I was the only one who knew about it. Without even noticing what I was doing, I took out my cell phone and dialed Elliot’s number. It rang twice before I realized he wasn’t going to answer. I pictured him sitting in his billiards room, adding my name to his Enemies book. Had he made his check mark yet? Or was he just getting started?

“Hey!”

I let out a frightened gasp. Jessica was standing by the bicycle rack, smoking a cigarette.

“I taped it,” she said. “We’re all going to watch it after school. Me, Lindsay, Tamara…”

I nodded automatically as she recited more names, each one landing like a violent blow to the face. What were these people going to do to me when they found out I was a fraud?

“Are you okay?” she said.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You just seem—”

“I’m
fine.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about your song a lot, and I was wondering, like—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She threw down her cigarette.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” she said.

“What?”

“I’m not stupid!”

She looked away, embarrassed.

“Okay, fine, I don’t get the song! But that’s because no one will explain it to me! People think, ‘What’s the point, she won’t get it.’ Well maybe I would if they explained it to me!”

She looked down at her feet, blinking rapidly. I couldn’t believe it: She was crying.

“I’ve listened to that awful song a hundred times,” she said. “And when I try to talk about it, people laugh! Do you know what that’s
like?”

For the first time, I thought about what Jessica must think of me. I never came to parties or said a kind word to anybody. Everything I did or said was more or less calculated to make her feel inferior.

“Jessica—”

“What?”

“I don’t get it, either.”

She looked up.

“What?”

“That song, the one they played on the radio…I didn’t write it. It was somebody else. I have
no idea
what it means.”

She wiped her face, smudging her makeup a little. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And you know what else? The person who wrote it doesn’t know what it means, either! So if people say you don’t get it, they’re the ones who are stupid—because there’s nothing to
get
. The song is nonsense!”

“That’s what I thought,” she whispered. “I didn’t tell anyone, but that’s what I always thought!”

“Well, you were right,” I said.

She laughed for a moment and then stifled it, covering her mouth with her hands. She looked over her shoulder and then smiled at me conspiratorially.

“I won’t tell,” she said. “I promise.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. You can tell whoever you want.”

She hesitated.

“Can I tell Lance? He’ll be so happy—he didn’t get the song either!”

“Yeah,” I said. “Tell Lance.”

“Seymour…what’s going on with you?”

I sighed.

“I’m in trouble, Jessica.”

Her eyes widened with genuine concern.

“Big trouble?”

“I think so.”

She flashed me a friendly smile.

“It’ll be okay, Seymour,” she said. “I mean, how bad could it be?”

“Seymour? Jesus, how long have you been up here?”

“Ashley, if you tell
anyone—
”

“We’re back to threats? Okay, fine, let’s hear it. What are you going to do to me?”

I crawled out from under the water tower. My clothes were splotched with tar and my sweatshirt was damp from when it had rained the night before.

“Christ, buddy,” she said. “Have you been hiding since yesterday?”

I nodded. I had snuck up the tunnel right after talking to Jessica. I had only meant to stay for a minute or two, to plan out what I was going to say to my parents. But it took me longer than expected to strategize. I knew I would start off with some small talk, to put them at ease. Something about the weather, like, “Guess summer’s on its way,” or, “Can you believe this rain?” That’s as far as I had gotten.

“I saw Mr. Hendricks talking to a reporter in the lobby,” Ashley said.

“Oh my God.”

“Relax, he’s loving the attention.”

She sat down next to me and flipped through a stack of tabloids. My face was on some of the covers.

“Man,” she said. “You are busted.”

“Yeah.”

“You know what they’re most upset about? The Indian thing.”

I nodded.

“That one was pretty crazy.”

I picked up the newspapers and felt their weight. How much
money did the Allagashes make from a stack this size? Ashley grabbed them and stuffed them into her bag.

“Nobody will care in a couple of days,” she said. “Some lady in Omaha will drown her kids and people will forget all about you.”

“God, I hope so.”

She laughed.

“Come on,” she said. “You’ve got to come down from here. This is ridiculous.”

I shook my head stubbornly.

“What are you afraid of? You’ve already been caught.”

I was concentrating on a nearby streak of tar to keep myself from crying. It wasn’t working.

“Seymour, come on. What are you worried about?”

I wiped my eyes roughly with my sleeve.

“They’re going to be mean to me.”

“Who?”

“Everyone.”

She nodded.

“Yeah.”

I could hear the bell ringing in the distance, but I didn’t budge.

“Hey,” she said. “I’ll be nice to you.”

I looked at her suspiciously.

“Why?”

“Why not? It doesn’t
cost
me anything. I mean it’s not even my hot chocolate! I steal it from the cafeteria.”

“Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Because you were a
jerk
. Not because you’re not a real Indian. And I’m not mad anymore.”

She handed me a mug.

“Here you go, Chunk-Style. Drink up.”

“Ashley…I need to tell you something.”

I took a deep breath.

“In eighth grade, when we were running for class president…me and Elliot, we fixed it so you would lose.”

“I know about that.”

“What?”

“I mean, I always assumed you cheated. But in case there was any doubt left in my mind…”

She rummaged through her bag and handed me a small gilded envelope. The wax seal was too smudged to read. But how many people had wax seals?

“When did Elliot send you that?”

She shrugged.

“A couple of months ago. I guess he thought I was a bad influence.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

“But then why didn’t you say anything? I mean, why’d you hang out with me anyway?”

“Because that was kid stuff, Seymour! I’m not a kid anymore. Are you?”

I swallowed.

“No.”

I looked down at my lap.

“Ashley?”

“Yeah?”

I hesitated.

“Will you be my friend?”

When I looked up, she was smiling.

“I
am
your friend,” she said. “Seymour, I’m your friend
already
.”

“Okay,” I said. “I think I can come down.”

I stood up and made my way toward the tunnel.

“Wait,” she said. “Is it okay…I mean…can we just go the other way?”

I walked across the roof and grabbed her hand. She smiled.

“Let’s never come back here,” I said.

“Okay,” she said.

And the two of us walked right out the door.

• • •

My parents must have been listening for the elevator, because they were waiting for me in the hall. My dad hooked his arms around me as soon as the doors slid open, while my mom shouted hysterically into the phone. They dragged me inside, shoved me onto the couch, and frantically examined my body for cuts and bruises. I was disheveled after my day as a fugitive, but my parents looked even worse. My mother’s hair was wild and frazzled, and my dad’s neck was crawling with scraggly hairs. I started to apologize—about hiding, about everything—but they both cut me off simultaneously.

“We can talk about all that stuff later,” my dad said, untying the knots in my shoelaces.

My mom filled up the tub and I took my first bath in years. My face was still chalky with television makeup. I dunked my head
underwater for as long as I could, and I could feel it peeling off in flakes.

I got dressed in an old, baggy Knicks jersey and made my way to the living room. There was brisket on the table and my parents were hunched over a box.

“It’s Monopoly Night,” my mom said, in as normal a voice as she could muster.

Restitution would start the following day and would take months. But first, my parents would allow themselves one night of domestic tranquility.

We ate in silence while my dad set up the board. The phone rang every couple of minutes. My dad would answer, mumble, “No comment,” and then hang up. After seven or eight calls, he yanked the phone cord out of the wall.

I looked down at my plate. It was horrible to think about all of the humiliation my parents would have to deal with because of me.

My dad rooted around in the box until he found his wheelbarrow.

“Hey,” he said. “Kiddo. You want to know something?”

I shrugged.

My father glanced at my mother, hesitated, and then cleared his throat.

“I cheat at Monopoly,” he said.

I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly.

“Sorry,” I said. “What?”

“I cheat at Monopoly,” he repeated. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

He threw his hands up in the air.

“There it is,” he said. “I’m a full-grown man who cheats at a child’s game.”

“How?”

“I steal from the bank,” he said. “That’s why I always agree to be banker, so I can steal. I also steal from your mom.”

“Jesus,” I said. “Mom, can you believe this?”

“I’ve known about it for years,” she said. “You know what’s crazy? Sometimes he loses anyway.”

My father nodded.

“I’m not good at Monopoly,” he said.

“Wow,” I said. “I never knew about that.”

“Are you angry?” my dad asked.

“Well, a little, I guess. But you know…I’ll get over it.”

He reached across the board and grabbed my hand.

“You better,” he said. “We’re family.”

The door buzzer rang sharply, and my parents both stood up.

“Jesus—”

“Don’t tell me they looked up our
address—
”

“Guys!” I said. “It’s okay. I forgot to tell you, I invited a friend over.”

My mom’s eyes widened with panic.

“Who?”

The doorbell rang. My parents were completely rigid as I walked across hall and opened the door.

“Hi,” Ashley said.

“Hi,” I said. “Mom, Dad? This is my friend Ashley.”

“Oh!” my mom exclaimed. “Oh!”

“Nice to meet you!” my dad said. “You’re just in time!”

He pulled a fourth chair up to the table and rummaged through the box for another game piece. Ashley was debating between the thimble and the car when I felt my phone vibrate against my leg. I took it out of my pocket, hesitated, and then slowly held it up to my ear.