How to Win at High School (11 page)

“So I guess you spend all your time making out with strange boys at parties then, huh?” Adam says.

Victoria shakes her head. “I told you, I'm a nerd too.”

“Yeah?” Adam says. “So what does that mean?”

“It means you're the first boy I ever made out with.” Victoria pulls Adam close again. Slips her tongue in his mouth. Kisses him for a minute or two.

Then she pulls back again. Takes Adam's hand and places it under her shirt. “And you're
definitely
the first boy I ever let touch me here,” she says. She kisses Adam again.

Adam closes his eyes and . . .

Adam just goes with it.

Janie Ng pokes her head in the door. “You guys can't be in here.”

Adam pulls himself off Victoria. Reclaims his hand from underneath her shirt. Looks sheepishly at Janie from the couch.

“Sorry,” Janie says. “My parents don't want anything getting stolen or anything.”

Adam swaps a look with Victoria. They untangle from each other, climb off the couch. Fix their clothing and go back to the party.

“Told you she wants you,” Victoria whispers. “She doesn't care about anything getting stolen. She just doesn't want us hooking up in her house.”

Adam looks at Janie across the room. Janie meets his eye, smiles at him. Adam smiles back.

“Maybe,” Adam says.

It doesn't matter what Janie wants. Adam wants Victoria. Adam's pretty sure Victoria wants him, too. But Janie Ng's watching them like a hawk. No way they're sneaking away to fool around again. No way they're catching a cab home, not at this hour—

(and then they're dealing with parents, who are always a major cock-block.)

Basically, no way they're getting any further alone time tonight.

So, well, they hang out on the couch and get drunker and drunker, listen to the gods and goddesses tell their old war stories, and—

(and at some point, Rob Thigpen comes back around, with Steph this time, and there's no more room on the couch and nowhere for Rob and Steph to sit, and Rob looks at Adam and it's awkward.

“Pizza Man,” Rob says. “Let us have this couch, dude.”

Adam looks at the couch. There's no more room. And what Rob's really saying is:

Get lost, Pizza Man.

Adam doesn't move. Rob curls his lip. Rob's about to say something else.

Then Paul Nolan speaks up.

“Pizza Man brought the booze,” Paul says. “Pizza Man sits where he wants.”

Rob and Steph look at Paul. Then they look at Adam. Adam gives them a shrug, like

What are you going to do?

And that's when Steph sighs and turns on her heel and drags Rob Thigpen off somewhere else, and boom,

just like that

it's not awkward anymore.)

—and soon enough Adam's too drunk to do anything more than cuddle up next to Victoria and tell her how much he likes her, and the last thing he remembers is passing out in Janie Ng's sunroom and Victoria laughing at him between kisses, telling him to shut up and try to get some sleep.

#epicnight

“My friend's cousin hooked me up,” Adam tells Sam. “He bought me, like, a shitload of alcohol. All kinds.”

Sam looks up from the TV, where the Red Wings are spanking the Montreal Canadiens. “That's why you didn't want me to buy for you,” he says. “You knew a guy.”

“I knew a guy,” Adam says. “And he has a car.”

Sam frowns. “I thought you quit your job, though. How'd you pay for this mother lode of booze?”

“I just, you know, had some money saved up,” Adam says. “It seemed like a good investment opportunity.”

Sam looks Adam over. “So I guess you're pretty much the man after that move, huh?”

Adam shrugs. “I guess so.”

He turns back to the TV. Watches the hockey game. Thinks about the party, about all the booze, the gods and goddesses loving him, Victoria all over him, and he knows he should feel like the man, but . . .

He doesn't.

Not yet.

Tony Montana didn't stop when he made his first score. He kept climbing. He stayed hungry.

Adam's still hungry. He's still climbing.

There's a lot more work to be done.

Word gets around.

“Dude.”
Some acne-scarred sophomore buttonholes Adam in the hall, Monday morning. “Who's your hookup, man? I got a drought situation on my hands.”

Adam's about to give the kid Tommy's number. Then he thinks about it.

“Make me a list,” he says instead. “I'll hook you up.”

After school, Adam calls Tommy. Tommy's into it.

“We can basically charge these kids whatever we want,” Tommy says. “Let's fucking gouge 'em.”

Adam thinks,
Whoa now.

“Let's not,” he says. “I want these kids to like me. Anyway, it's not that hard to get a fake ID.”

Tommy thinks about it. Tommy shrugs. “Whatever,” he says. “Just make sure you introduce me to some honeys, cool?”

Adam looks at Tommy like,
Honeys?

Whoa now.

Tommy delivers the booze the next day. Brings it to Nixon in his Mustang and they hand it off to the sophomore in the parking lot after school.

“Tell your friends about us,” Adam tells the kid. “If they need drinks we can hook it up, easy.”

“I think there's another party going down next week,” the kid says. “We'll totally call you.”

Adam shakes the kid's hand. Takes his money. Walks back to where Tommy's waiting by the Mustang, watching a couple of pretty senior girls walk to a pink Volkswagen Golf.

“Here you go,” Adam tells him. Hands over Tommy's cut of the profits. Tommy stares at it.

It's, like, twenty bucks.

“We gotta bump the price,” Tommy says. “This barely covers my gas, man.”

Adam looks down at the twenty in his own hand. “Fuck it,” he says, handing it over. “Take it all. Soon as people figure out who we are, we'll start making real cash.”

“You want to start making real cash,” Tommy says, “you gotta start thinking about pills.”

He watches the pink Volkswagen drive out of the parking lot. “Pills, man,” he says. “The honeys go nuts for that shit.”

Adam follows Tommy's gaze. Adam doesn't like the look in Tommy's eyes.

Drug dealing?
Adam thinks.

No thanks.

“Just wait until word gets around,” Adam tells him. “We'll be rolling in it.”

That night, Adam hijacks the family computer. Makes a new Facebook page.

Pizza Man Enterprises.

(Figures after Janie's party, he might as well own it.)

Booze, grades, etc.

Keeps the description vague, like,
If you don't know, ask somebody
. Like, he's not going full retard.

(You never go full retard.)

Then he invites all of his new friends.

By Friday, Pizza Man Enterprises has twenty-five likes.

Four kids send Adam messages asking for booze. A couple more text him for homework help.

Adam tells them all:

“Meet me at my locker after school and we'll talk.”

Hits up his locker after last period and the place is a mob scene.

More homework assignments.

More booze.

Wayne's clearing four hundred a week. Tommy's in the Nixon parking lot at least once a week. Pizza Man Enterprises has seventy-five likes.

Adam doesn't get much sleep—

(“Can't watch the game tonight,” he tells Sam. “So much homework.”)

—and neither does Wayne, from the looks of it.

And it's not like Adam's seeing much of Victoria, between the homework stuff and the party supplies.

Pretty much all he has time for—

(if he's lucky)

—is one date a week.

A movie downtown.

Dinner somewhere.

They fool around in the theater. They make out behind the mall.

(“You sleep with that girl yet?” Brian asks Adam.

Adam shakes his head. “Working on it.”

And he is.

But . . .)

“Come over to my place,” Victoria tells him. “My parents are on afternoons this week. We'll have the whole place to ourselves.”

Adam starts to tell her hell yes, he's coming over. Then he thinks about it.

About the three English assignments he's gotta get done tonight.

About Alton Di Sousa's latest econ lab.

About the three senior girls who want Smirnoff Ice for the weekend.

“This week's no good,” Adam tells Victoria. “I have a crapload of homework.”

Victoria frowns. “You always have homework. Can't you take a night off?”

Adam shrugs. “I gotta keep my grades up.”

“I guess so,” she says. “You really
are
a big nerd, Pizza Man.”

“Don't call me that,” Adam tells her. “I told you, I just want to be Adam with you.”

“Except you're never with me,” Victoria says.

Victoria goes home unhappy. She's feeling neglected. Adam knows this. Adam's unhappy too. But at the same time . . .

People know who he is.

People slap him five in the hall.

Sophomores look at him like he's somebody now.

It's worth it
, he thinks.
Keep grinding a little while longer.

Just when Adam thinks he's about to go insane—

(from the homework and the lack of sleep and the booze and the not-seeing-Victoria)

—Christmas happens.

Holidays. And not a moment too soon.

Adam pays off Wayne. Wishes him a merry Christmas. Tells him his job will be waiting for him in January. Then he grabs Victoria and drags her to the mall.

It's Adam's first Christmas with money. He buys his mom a cashmere sweater and a couple romance novels.

An autographed Bruce Springsteen record for his dad.

A couple Blu-rays for Steph, and a T-shirt from Hollister.

(“She'll love this,” Victoria tells him. “She's had her eye on this all year.”

“You think Rob Thigpen will get it for her?” Adam says.

Victoria laughs. “I doubt it,” she says. “Rob isn't exactly known for being thoughtful.”)

Then Adam chases Victoria away, makes her hang in the food court while he picks out her present.

A gold necklace from the jewelry store.

(With a diamond.)

It only costs Adam a couple hundred bucks, but it looks the part. And Victoria squeals when she opens it. “How did you afford this?” she says. “It must be superexpensive.”

“I have money,” Adam tells her. “I've been working.”

“You quit your job, though.” She frowns. “Are you, like, a drug dealer or something?”

Adam blinks. “What?”

She waits a beat. Then she bursts out laughing. “The look on your face, Adam. I'm
kidding
.”

“Oh.” Adam forces a smile. “Yeah.”

“You're tutoring, right?” Victoria says. “Somebody said you were helping them out with their homework. I figured that's why you're so busy and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Adam says. “Tutoring and stuff. Anyway, who cares about that right now? All I care about is if you like the necklace.”

Victoria kisses him. “I don't like it,” she says. “I love it.”

Adam's mom loves her sweater.

His dad loves his Springsteen record.

Steph?

“You seen those movies yet?” Adam asks her. “I heard they were pretty good.”

Steph shakes her head. “They're good.” She has a funny look on her face. “Yeah, they're good. Thanks, Adam.”

“Everything cool?”

Steph cocks her head at him. “I don't know, Adam,” she says. “Does Victoria know how you paid for this stuff?”

Adam glances into the kitchen, where his mom is making breakfast. “What are you trying to pull?” he asks. “You don't like your presents?”

“I'm just wondering what Victoria thinks of your little career,” Steph says. “I hear you're selling booze now too.”

Adam walks over to Steph's pile of presents and pulls out the Blu-rays and the Hollister T-shirt. “You don't want this stuff, say the word.”

Steph shrugs. “Whatever. It's probably stolen goods anyway.”

“Screw off,” Adam says. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” Steph grins at him. “I just want you to know that your pathetic little career isn't going to last forever, Adam. And I'm going to be there to laugh at you when it all comes crashing down.”

Adam's about to tell Steph to mind her own business. Then his mom pokes her head in from the kitchen. “Christmas breakfast,” she says. Then her smile disappears. “Jeez. What the heck's the matter with
you
two?”

Sam comes over for Christmas dinner.

It takes a lot of work to get Sam into the house. There's a crumbling little stoop that Adam and his dad have to lift the wheelchair over, and then the wheelchair is almost too wide for the doorway, and there are a couple of stairs inside the door—

(there's a lot of grunting and muttered swear words)

—and all the while, Adam's mom is watching from the kitchen and trying not to look sad, and . . .

Steph is in the living room texting and pretending not to care, and . . .

Sam looks ashen and kind of tense, like knows he's fucking this up for everyone and he's just kind of fighting to keep it all together, and . . .

Adam was going to do this later, but he can't wait. He goes into his room and digs around and comes back with Sam's Christmas present.