Fireball (24 page)

He ran a hand through his hair.

‘Time?'

‘Two minutes six seconds.'

Karen applauded, clapping with her fingers spread like a little kid. Jules hauled his soaking bulk out of the pool and took the watch from me, acting all casual.

‘Now it's your turn,' he said.

I had no hope of beating him, but I didn't care. Now that he'd shown Karen how long he could hold his breath maybe we could relax again. I slipped into the water, feeling it all tingly against my skin.

‘Ready?'

‘Ready.'

I took a few breaths and went under, plugging my nose. I kind of enjoyed being down there, actually. It reminded me of sitting in my shrink's office: quiet and cool and safe. Water surrounded me like chilled jello, deflecting the sun, dampening sound, draining my warmth. It would have been perfect – except for the fact that I couldn't breathe. My head started throbbing and the pressure slowly expanded in my chest, like a balloon getting bigger and bigger and bigger. It pushed little bubbles out my nostrils. I squirmed and writhed, then scrunched up into a ball, fighting the urge to give in. But I couldn't. I was done.

I stood up. All the air exploded from my lungs.

‘One minute and fourteen seconds,' Jules announced.

‘Good one, Razor.'

I sloshed to the edge of the pool and rested my elbows against the deck. My head felt empty and weightless, and white spots drifted across my vision like balls of cotton. The grass in Julian's yard looked a little too green, and the sky looked a little too blue. It was as if the whole world had turned into a digital photograph. For about ten seconds everything seemed clearer and brighter and more real.

‘That's so trippy,' I said.

Nobody paid me much attention.

Jules said, ‘You're up, Chris.'

‘Screw that.'

‘Are you scared?' Karen said, tickling his foot. ‘Is little Chris scared?'

‘Fuck off.' He swatted her hand away. ‘Leave me alone.'

I dragged myself from the pool and sprawled out on the patio. The water dripping off me made the sun-dried stones pop and sizzle. I felt like a fresh fish thrown on the barbecue.

‘You should try it, man,' I said. ‘It gives you a weird head rush.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Yeah. You'll like it.'

I had my eyes closed against the glare of the sun, but I heard the deckchair creak as Chris stood up and the little splash as he hopped into the water. Karen started making a drum roll noise. She tried, anyways. It sounded more like a machine gun misfiring – but we got the idea.

‘You'll never beat two minutes,' Jules said.

‘We'll see.'

I sat up. Chris took a single breath, filling his lungs, and went under. His head stayed near the surface, the hair spreading out like tangles of brown seaweed. None of us said anything. We all knew there was no way he'd beat Jules. Aside from fighting, Chris didn't work out at all – he never jogged or ran or hit the gym or anything. Jules still couldn't help worrying, though. He looked from his watch to Chris and back to his watch. Time oozed by.

‘How long?' I asked.

‘A minute and a half,' Jules said.

There were no ripples in the water and Chris didn't move. He just hung suspended like a dummy or a doll. Or a corpse. I leaned forward. It didn't seem possible that he could hold his breath this long.

‘Time?'

‘Two minutes.' Jules waited. Then he added, ‘Two minutes seven.'

He tossed his watch aside and crossed his arms. Chris still didn't come up. Small bubbles were popping next to his ear. Then larger bubbles. He had to come up. He had to.

He didn't.

‘Is he okay?' Karen asked.

‘How long, Jules?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Check your fucking watch!'

Reluctantly, Jules picked up the watch and said, ‘Almost three minutes.'

‘Fuck this.'

I jumped in the water and turned Chris over. He was limp in my arms. As soon as his head cleared the surface he started gagging. It was totally insane. I dragged him to the edge of the pool. Jules and Karen stood there and stared. I don't think they could quite believe it.

‘Come on! Give me a hand!'

We got him onto the pool deck. He choked up water and lay there, dry heaving.

‘Oh my God!' Karen said. ‘Is he okay?'

‘Chris? Can you hear me, man?'

I slapped his face. His eyes were vacant and glassy, but he smiled at me.

‘You were right, man,' he said. ‘It's awesome down there.'

Karen and I burst out laughing. We were just so fucking relieved. Unlike Jules. He was too busy sulking to care. He sat and fiddled with his watch until Chris had recovered and we were all lounging around the pool again. That was when he came out with it, like a revelation.

‘I think I'm going to have a toga party.'

‘Fuck off, Jules.'

Everything was back to normal.

39

Total chaos.

That's how one of the cops they interviewed described it. Normally it would have harsh pissed me off. I mean, people use that phrase without even stopping to think what total chaos would actually look like. But in this case, the cop was right.

That party was total chaos.

‘Leave us alone, you pigs!'

‘You fascist cocksuckers!'

They realised pretty quick that twelve cops wasn't going to be enough. They called for back-up, and the back-up called for more back-up. At least, I'm assuming that's what happened. All I know for sure is that cops kept arriving. There were cops from North Van and West Van and a few cops from Burnaby. Eventually it got so bad that they brought in the riot police from downtown. It was nuts. They came with their helmets and shields and body armour and everything. They looked pretty sweet, actually. Also, they were thirty times more professional than the regular cops. They didn't just attack everybody. They didn't use pepper spray, either. They had a pretty basic strategy. They marched through the house, flushing out the rooms one by one – kind of like shepherds driving sheep from a barn.

Extremely violent sheep.

As soon as I left the bathroom, I got separated from the cop fox. We didn't have much choice in the matter. Sweaty, bodies jostled and pushed up against each other. People were screaming and the stereo was still blaring and the whole house felt like one giant mosh pit. Somehow I ended up in the living room, which was less packed. The punch bowl had been knocked over in the brawling. A sticky puddle covered the carpet, and slices of orange lay scattered around like dead goldfish. Luckily, people had left half-filled cups all over the place: on tables, armrests, bookshelves, wherever. I downed a couple of the fullest ones to get my buzz going again, then headed back into the fray. Most of the action was near the front of the house, but I didn't see Chris anywhere. I didn't see Jules or Karen, either. The only person I saw who I recognised was a policeman, the same one who'd been there when Bates gave us those stupid tickets for not wearing bike helmets. You know – the one with the super big moustache.

‘Officer Moustache!'

I shouted that and shoved my way towards him. He was standing by the front door, arms crossed, dressed in a scruffy blue hoody and this Canucks hat. I don't think he was even on duty. He didn't look like he was on duty, anyway. He just looked awesome.

‘Hey officer – what's up, man?'

As I said that, I stumbled right into him. He had to catch me in his arms and sort of prop me up against the wall.

‘How you doing, kid?'

I don't know if he recognised me or what, I hope he did.

‘Pretty shitty.'

A beer bottle smashed on the doorframe next to me, showering us with bits of glass. Somebody screamed: ‘Go to hell, copper!'

Moustache sighed and shook his head, then dusted the shards off his hoody. ‘Looks like things got a little out of hand here.'

‘Yeah,' I said, ‘the pigs… I mean the cops tried to shut it down. Then we slammed the door in their face and they started beating people up and macing everybody.'

‘What a gong show.'

I didn't know what a gong show was at the time, so I just nodded. Later I asked my dad about it, and he said they had gong shows on TV back in the seventies. All these variety acts would come on stage, and if the judges didn't like something, they'd bang a gong to finish that act off. So when Moustache said something was a gong show, he meant that it was all chaotic and ridiculous and pretty fucked up.

In other words, this was the biggest gong show of all time.

He said, ‘You should probably go home, kid.'

‘For sure. I just got to find my friend first.'

At that point, this cop in riot gear rushed up. He didn't have the full shield but he had a helmet and a nightstick. He pointed it at my face. ‘Is this one bothering you, lieutenant?'

Moustache frowned and waved him away, making it clear he thought the guy was a total marzipan. Then he shook my hand – just to show how tight we were and everything.

‘Time to get a move on, kid,' he told me.

‘All right, lieutenant. No worries.'

He strolled off, keeping it real. I was stoked to find out that he'd made lieutenant. If anybody deserved a promotion, it was him. He was the kind of cop that probably drank a lot, and hacked tons of darts. Also, there was that moustache. You can always trust a guy with a huge moustache, especially one that hasn't been trimmed or waxed or anything.

Anyways, a few minutes later I finally found Chris.

‘Get the fuck off me!'

I heard him scream that as soon as I stepped outside. I couldn't see him, though. By that point the house was nearly empty, but nobody had actually gone home. All the bodies had just spilled out onto the street. The front yard was covered with cops and people in togas. I climbed up on the fence to get a better view. Things were settling down, but among the crowd little bubbles of violence kept popping up. A few die-hards were still fighting cops and each other and pretty much anything they came across. One guy was even fighting a lamppost. No joke. He was kicking it and smashing it with a plastic deckchair. That was pretty crazy, but not as crazy as what was happening to Chris.

‘Get him down!'

Three cops struggled with him on the lawn, yanking on his toga and trying to pin him. A handful of others hovered nearby, including Bates. I'd never seen him so excited.

‘Stay still you little shit!'

Bates said that, then rushed in and booted Chris in the ribs – quick and vicious, like he was kicking a rabid dog. Even the other cops were a little surprised. I saw one hold up her hand, as if to tell Bates to stop. He didn't, though. He just kept kicking away.

I jumped off the porch and ran over there.

‘Leave him alone! This is bullshit!'

I must have looked like a big baby. My eyes were still red and watery from all that pepper spray. I ran straight for Bates and shoved him away from Chris. That was a mistake. Another cop tackled me from the side. My face smeared across the grass and I got a mouthful of dirt. They wrenched both arms behind my back and cuffed me before I even knew what the hell was happening.

‘Take these two down to the station,' Bates said. ‘They're the ones who started it.'

That's how we ended up in the squad car.

On television, they always show the criminals in the back of the car just before it pulls away. This was the opposite. We were on the inside looking out. We couldn't hear much but we could see everything through the windshield. We saw cops clearing stragglers off the lawn, and neighbours watching from their driveways, and drunks being loaded into the paddy wagon across the street. Then we saw Karen, wandering in circles. Her toga was torn at the shoulder and one of her breasts had nearly popped out. She tottered back and forth like a pendulum – absolutely wasted. Chris's window was open about six inches, and he called to her through the gap.

‘Karen!'

She staggered over and sort of slumped against the car door.

‘Chris – what's going on?'

‘Me and Razor got arrested.'

‘What?'

‘Yeah. I punched a bunch of cops.'

Karen sobbed – this choking little sob.

‘Chris, I'm scared.'

‘What's there to be scared of?'

‘Kiss me, please?'

He tilted his head up against the roof so they could kiss. Karen started crying. She was crying and kissing him at the same time. It was the most romantic thing I'd ever seen. Then our driver came back. He got in the front and told Karen to step away from the vehicle. She didn't, though – not even when he started the engine. As we drove off I turned around in my seat to watch her. She stood totally still, shivering and holding herself, getting smaller and smaller. Just before we rounded the corner, I spotted Jules crossing the yard towards her. She turned to meet him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, comforting her.