Fat Boy vs. the Cheerleaders (15 page)

I don't care if the instructions are for opening a 1970s pop machine. They totally worked!

Oh, no? You don't believe me?

Yeah! Yeah! Let's take a break! Go fill your belly with a cold drink! Hopefully, I'll burst into flames and be a pile of dust when you get back. That'd be better than sitting in this freaking room with a laughing donkey jackass!

So? You know who Baba Obi is, huh?

That's what we called her fat dog, Babs. It's a fake Star Wars name.

How long have they been here, Mr. Rodriguez?

I don't understand why Gore is here at all. She didn't do anything! Oh, crap. This is what she gets for hanging with me. She probably hates me now.

Did you know they were here? Did you know what they were saying? Is that why you kept taking calls and taking breaks?

Are they together?

So there are four rooms with four lawyers all recording our comments and each of the four of us have been making total asses of ourselves trying to protect each other, huh?

What a crappy endeavor, sir. No offense.

Well, actually, total offense, okay?

More laughing?

Mr. Kaus gets here in twenty minutes? And then what? Lock up all us criminals?

No. Almost everything is true that I've told you. Ninety-six percent. Right up through the point in time when I kicked those stupid pop bottles in my Dad's closet. That's all true.

Sure, fine, I left out almost all mention of Kailey.

You'd have to ask RC III about that stuff. I wasn't there for their long walks through the woods out at Fort Neillsen. He knows all about Kailey's trouble.

RC III did talk about her to me, yes. Several times last week. Kailey, Kailey, Kailey. He did tell me she wasn't like those other girls. I knew that but didn't know that. Kailey Kaus laughed when I ass-danced, Mr. Rodriguez. She was part of the culture that robbed me of my dignity.

Yeah, I knew right away who Baba Obi was, but I didn't care. It didn't matter to me that Kailey Kaus was sorry.

Really. At first, I didn't even know what she was sorry about. Kailey found out before I did that her mom, as president of the school board, had steered all the pop money out of the band budget. Once I knew what was up, Kailey could go suck it, you know? Baba Obi can suck it.

I found my phone in a shoe box on a shelf over Dad's hanging clothes. I also found a bunch of bags of potato chips and Doritos and all sorts of candy bars. Dad hoards food, man. What a disaster that guy is.

The phone was dead. I took it downstairs and plugged it in. It was 1:30, I guess. About that time. There were a couple messages from Camille. She was freaking out about the tomato plants out on their farm. The ones Seth and those guys smashed. She screamed, blamed me for not following the plan, for not just doing a fund-raising concert. Later, she called to thank me for the poem I sent her.

Why the hell are you laughing? Good God, sir. This is not funny stuff.

Don't “bah” at me! You already know Camille isn't Baba Obi.

Just keep it to yourself.

The third message was from Gore. She'd left it just a few minutes earlier. Like one o'clock or something. She talked really fast. She said, “Dear Gabe. It's been a Kaus-filled hour at the donut shop. Mrs. Kaus came in looking for ‘the fat pornographer.' (I think she was referring to you. She ripped into me too by the way and called my dad a miscreant and I almost slapped her. But Dante threw her out just in time.) Then Kailey showed up. She was looking for you too. You are very popular with Kaus women. Hey, are you in trouble? Is your dad angry? Why aren't you picking up? I want you to call me Gore by the way. I like that name. Sorry I got mad yesterday. I love you too. Please call Dante's if you get this before 2. Call RC III if you don't get this until later. Kailey would like to talk to you. She's still out front. She won't leave the shop. I'm very uncomfortable. Oh, sorry about the band. I can't believe it. Bye.”

I didn't know what to think. Kailey? Did she want to beat the crap out of me for that Kaus-gasm video? That would be weird because she really isn't like Janessa and Emily. She's actually really quiet. She doesn't talk in class. She doesn't say crap to people in the halls. She isn't the kind of person who would pick a fight, even if she's insulted. Her parents do all the fighting for her. They're rabid. I mean, her mom is. I guess Mr. Kaus is divorcing Kailey's mom. It's all a big mess.

Anyway, I took a deep breath and made the call. This is totally crazy. (Kailey clearly went crazy.) Kailey answered Dante's Donuts phone. “Where are you?” she asked.

“Who is this?”

“Where are you, Gabe? Are you at home?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is Kailey.”

“Oh…okay?”

“Don't leave. Stay hidden. Chandra will come get you. We'll see you at Fort Neillsen. Six o'clock.”

“Who? Who will see me? I don't think so.”

“Shh,” Kailey said. “It's okay. Bye, Gabe.”

There were a few things about this phone call I didn't like. One, was Kailey going to bring the whole Minnekota jock establishment down on my head? Was she setting up an ambush and had somehow coerced Gore into doing her bidding? Two, Dad would be home by five. How in the hell could I get out of the house for my potentially epic beating? Dad would be watching, right? Three, why did we have to go all the way out to Fort Neillsen? That place is crawling with tourists. Nobody from Minnekota actually goes there.

Yeah, that was the point. Nobody from town goes there.

A minute later, I called Dante's again. This time, Dante answered. “Hey, no more drama. Stop calling here, Chunk.”

“Dante!” I shouted. “I'm sorry about my dad! I didn't mean to miss work! Don't fire me, okay?”

“You're not fired. Just stop calling! I had to kick Kailey Kaus out of here. I had to kick her mom out an hour ago. I'm tired of it. Enough drama! I'm a business, not a soap opera!” Dante hung up.

I texted RC III,
What's going on?

It took him twenty minutes to get back to me.
It's cool. See you at the park. We have to run some errands after work.

Again with the
we
. I texted him back,
Who is we?

RC III didn't respond. Man, I wish Gore had a cell phone. What a pain in the ass. I was forced to sit around for several hours, waiting and waiting for what? The only news that came through Facebook was that Mike Timlin and Raj Weigel were arrested for having a ton of illegal fireworks in the back of Mike's car. I know the cops think they were using those fireworks for Geekers stuff, but it's just as likely they were going someplace to blow up mailboxes for no apparent reason. Those dudes are always carrying around nutty crap.

Around 4:30, Dad came home from the college. He didn't speak to me. Grandpa cooked a super heavy meal: spaghetti with bacon Alfredo sauce.

I think he cooked it because he thought it would knock Dad out. Dad wolfs stuff like that down. We sat to eat. Dead silence. Grandpa stared at me and then stared at Dad. We both ate.

“Are you two going to speak? You have some things to say, I imagine,” Grandpa said.

Dad set down his fork, looked at me, and said, “Sure. I have something to say. I spoke to your mother this morning, Gabe.”

“What now?” Grandpa asked.

“You did what?” I asked.

“She's very disappointed in you, very concerned.”

“Oh, really?” I said. “How concerned?”

“Extremely concerned.”

“She's going to come home? She's going to spank me maybe?”

“No. But get ready. She's going to call this evening.”

“Great. I look forward to that.”

“She's calling here?” Grandpa said. “How's that?”

After what Grandpa told me earlier in the day, I actually didn't believe Dad. I thought,
You
lie—

I stared down at my uneaten Alfredo. “Screw this. I'm done. I'm going to bed.”

Grandpa eyeballed me.

Dad said, “Be ready for that call.”

I went downstairs. I paced and worried. Mom? Could it be real? Did she have a change of heart? Was she really worried about me? What the hell would I even say to her? Where would I speak to her? In my sad basement? When would she call? Would she call the home phone or my cell? It would have to be the home phone because Dad thought he had my cell!
Oh,
crap.
And worse, Gore would be at the house to get me sometime in the next thirty minutes.
Maybe
you
shouldn't go with Gore. Maybe you need to stay home. Maybe—
Then I thought,
Holy
balls! Get out of the fudge river, Gabe! Screw this!

No, no, she didn't call, sir. I asked Grandpa this morning when they came in. It was a lie, I'm sure. Jesus. Justin's mom is right. My dad is emotionally controlling or abusive or whatever. If he convinced me that Mom said she was going to call and then she didn't call, wouldn't I learn that Dad is the only person I can trust? Jesus! What did I do to deserve this?

No, I'm okay.

I am. I'm seriously okay, okay? I'm out of the river.

From the basement, I listened. After ten minutes or so, the TV turned on upstairs. That meant Dad had gulped down his slop. There was some chance he'd pass out on the couch before it was go time.

About five minutes later, I climbed the stairs as quietly as I could. I crawled to the end of the hall and looked into the living room. Dad was sitting upright, staring. He wasn't sleeping like he normally would after dinner (especially that dinner). Grandpa sat in the recliner. He saw me. He shook his head “No” like he knew what I was looking for.

I slid back down the steps into my dungeon.

I sat on my bed and stared up at the little slot window on the bathroom side of my room, on the back wall that faces Kailey's old house. I thought about Kailey knocking on that window as a ten-year-old, how I'd slide out to be with her. I hadn't climbed out that little hole since the summer after seventh grade. I was a much, much tinier human being at that point. I looked at my phone. Quarter to six.
Aw, what the hell.

And so I did it. I pulled off my band hoodie, peeled off my giant red T-shirt. I pulled off my shoes, peeled off my stretchy pants. I opened the window, pushed my clothes out, threw my phone out, and then put the step stool from the bathroom (the one Doris fell off of) under the window and thought,
Do
or
die, man.

My head went through easy. My shoulders went through and I was able to grab the edge of this little cracked concrete walk that runs behind our house to the patio. I sucked in my gut as much as I could, pulled as hard as I could, but my gut is big, man. It lodged in. Lodged bad. I figured there was no way. I pulled so, so hard—strained with everything—but I didn't budge. It hurt. Cut. Made it hard to breathe. Didn't seem like I could go backward either. Was Dad going to find me jammed in the window in my underpants? I pulled again, making this
gah!
sound. Didn't work. Didn't seem like there was any way!

Then I noticed the little girl jumping rope on Kailey's old patio. They're new to Minnekota. I think they're the Jensens? The kid's name is Mandy. I hear her mom barking that at her all the time. Anyway, that Mandy girl jumped rope and watched me wiggle in the window. She stopped and stared. Then she dropped the rope and sort of skipped over, little blonde head bobbing in the evening light.

“You're stuck,” she said when she got to me.

“Yeah,” I said, breathing hard. The metal frame was digging in.

“I think you need to go out, not up,” she said.

“What?” I huffed.

“You keep going up.” (She pointed up with her finger.) “But you need to go out.” (She pointed flat.)

“Oh?”

“Uh-huh,” she said.

Maybe she's some kind of spatial genius or maybe she played a lot with one of those plastic cube things that kids use to stuff a specific shape in the right-shaped hole. You know what I mean?

Yeah, I had one of those.

Anyway, instead of pulling myself up off the sidewalk, I pulled myself hard across it and sucked in as much as I could, and holy nuts, sir, I started sliding across that sidewalk, totally scraping my gut as I went. But I was moving. It took me about three pulls to yank my way out.

The girl, Mandy, stepped back. I pushed my way up to hands and knees and breathed like I was dying.

She whispered, “You're in your undies.” Then she took off running for her house, so I had to move fast. I'm sure she told her parents.

I yanked on my shirt and then took off running, carrying my hoodie, pants, and shoes. I jetted in my boxers through backyards a couple houses down the block and then ran through the McDermott's side yard and went out to the street.

Gore was there. She'd parked several houses down on the other side of our house. I jumped up and down, signaled her. She saw. She put it in reverse and slowly backed up to me. I opened the door. She said, “Oh, my God. Are you okay? Why aren't you wearing pants?”

“Ow,” I grumbled and Gore took off.

“Are you bleeding?”

My forearms were bleeding, but I was overtaken by pride. “I fit through the window in my basement!” I shouted.

“Sort of fit,” Gore said. “Looks like you sort of got stuck too.” She turned on Park Street and headed toward the lake.

“What are we doing?” I asked.

“I don't know. But I trust RC III,” Gore said.

“Uh-huh,” I said. Then off we rolled to Fort Neillsen. I pulled on my pants. I pulled on my band hoodie.

Yeah. I'd maybe said it a couple times to him. I did. I told RC III I'd like to break into that stupid machine and take our money back. It was my idea. At least in concept, okay? Those machines are sealed like bank vaults. The school was locked at night. How could I steal anything from that machine?

It was a windy afternoon. Temperature dropped from the 80s on Friday to the 60s. There were some pretty good white caps on the lake as we drove along County B. We got out to Fort Neillsen, which is a resort, not a real park. It's private. Gore parked the car on a gravel lot. I followed her into the snack bar, this cabin with big windows right by the shoreline. It was packed because the wind was keeping Richie Rich Twin Cities resort guests from swimming and boating and junk. I saw RC III in the corner. There was this tiny figure in a pink hoodie sitting across the table from him.