How to Win at High School (12 page)

(It's an envelope.)

(Merry Christmas.)

Sam opens the envelope. There are tickets inside. Two (2) of them.

“Holy crap,” he says. “Red Wings?”

Adam nods. “They have, like, a wheelchair-accessible area. The game's not until March, but it's the Maple Leafs, so . . .”

“I hate the Maple Leafs,” Sam says.

“And what's better than watching them get spanked, live and in person?” Adam says. “I figured we could take the bus over.”

“You'll have to talk to Dr. Stevens,” Adam's mom says. “Make sure it's okay.”

Sam waves her off. “It'll be fine,” he says. “There's no way I'm missing this, Mom.”

Sam's smiling, now.

Adam's mom and dad are smiling too.

Even Steph looks happy.

(Well,
happier
.)

“Merry Christmas,” Adam tells Sam.

“Merry Christmas,” Sam tells Adam.

And for the first time in a while, it is.

A few days after Christmas, Victoria calls Adam.

“My parents are working late,” she tells him. “And I
know
you don't have homework this time.”

Adam's in Walkerville in a minute flat.

Not really. It takes almost an hour with the way the buses are running. But he gets there. And Victoria's waiting. She lives in this old brick company home a few blocks from the distillery by the river. It's a nice home. Funky. It has character.

Adam has to push the realization from his mind that it's auto-plant money—

(the same auto-plant money his dad used to make)

—that's paying for this place. For a moment, he feels jealous. Then he kisses Victoria and he doesn't care anymore.

Victoria's room looks like Steph's:

Teddy bears.

Pink wallpaper.

Boy-band poster on the walls.

Adam doesn't really waste much time admiring the decor, though. He doesn't have much of a chance,

because

as soon as he walks in the room, Victoria shoves him on the bed, climbs on top of him, kisses him

(hard),

and Adam stops caring about the wallpaper.

“Mmmph, Adam,” Victoria mumbles. “Slow up a sec, kay?”

Adam sits up and looks at her. Moves his hand from the catch on her pants.

(Victoria's on her back, her hair tousled, her clothing askew.

Her skin's flushed.

They're both breathing hard.

Things are

hot

and

heavy.)

“We still have an hour,” Adam tells her. “What's the matter?”

“It's not that,” Victoria says. “It's just . . .”

She looks away.

“What?” Adam says. “What is it?”

Victoria chews her lip. “I'm sorry,” she says, sighing. “I like you a lot, Adam.”

“I like you, too,” Adam tells her.

“I just”—Victoria sighs again—“I don't want to do anything crazy, okay? I don't think I'm ready yet.”

“What do you mean, crazy?” Adam says.

“I mean, I don't think I'm ready to have sex with you yet.” She leans over and kisses him. “It's not because I don't like you.
I'm just not ready yet, you know?”

Adam nods. “Yeah,” he says. “For sure.”

“You're not mad, are you? I really like you a lot. And just because we can't have sex yet doesn't mean we can't fool around, right?”

“Of course not,” Adam says.

“Good.” Victoria leans up and kisses him again. “Then come back here already. We still have another hour.”

Mixed emotions.

I mean, Victoria's, like, fifteen. Steph's fifteen, and if Adam found out she'd had sex with Rob Thigpen,

well

he'd probably kill them both.

But still.

Paul Nolan has sex.

Alton Di Sousa has sex.

Rob Thigpen definitely has sex. (Just hopefully not with Steph.)

But Adam Higgs?

Still a virgin.

And that's just embarrassing, man.

Thing is, Adam really likes Victoria.

Like,

Really likes
.

They hang out a ton over Christmas break. They fool around in her bedroom when her parents work nights.

(“Why don't we ever go to your place?” she asks Adam, when her parents switch to morning shifts and are home all the time.

Adam shakes his head.

Adam thinks,
No way are you meeting my parents. No way in hell are you seeing my shitty house.

“My dad's always home,” Adam tells her. “No privacy there.”)

They go to more movies together. They troll the mall. They walk in the park and go skating together, hang out and watch TV shows in Victoria's living room.

On New Year's, they walk down to the river to watch the fireworks at midnight.

(Tommy hooks Adam up with a bottle of champagne.)

They unroll a picnic blanket and sit shivering on the shore, drinking from the bottle and watching the fireworks explode high above the Detroit skyline.

“I've never had champagne before,” Victoria giggles. “It makes me feel funny.”

Adam smiles too. “It's weird, right?”

“The bubbles,” Victoria says, and bursts into laughter.
“They tickle my nose.”

Adam pulls her close, feels the warmth of her body against the cool air off the river. He chucks the bottle away and kisses her again, and as the clock strikes midnight, Victoria pulls back and looks up into his eyes. “I think I might love you,” she says. “Is it weird if I say that?”

Adam hesitates. Maybe it's the champagne, or maybe it's the fireworks, or maybe it's something else entirely, but he tilts up her chin and kisses her again.

“It's not weird,” he says. “I think I might love you, too.”

Adam takes Victoria to meet Sam.

(He's a little nervous at first.)

They walk up to Sam's crummy apartment building, and Adam looks at the place and thinks about Victoria's beautiful house and her perfect family and wonders what the hell he was thinking, bringing her here—

(Realizes there's no way he's ever bringing her to Remington Park.)

(Wonders what Victoria will think, when she sees Sam's cramped little living room and his shitty TV, the weird little gadgets and handrails and call buttons in the bathroom.)

(Wonders how long it'll take before she gets grossed out and runs.)

Victoria smiles at him. “You ready?”

Adam hesitates a moment longer. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Let's do it.”

“Oh yeah,” Sam tells Adam. “She's definitely out of your league.”

Victoria giggles. They're in Sam's room, and the curtains are open and it's a beautiful day, and you can see the river through the trees and the other buildings outside.

“I'm so excited to finally meet you,” Victoria says. “Adam talks about you, like, all the time.”

Sam grins. “None of it's true,” he says. “Absolutely not one word of it.”

“I hear you guys are going to a hockey game,” Victoria says.

“Red Wings and the Maple Leafs,” Sam says. “Your boyfriend scored us some choice tickets.”

“Yeah.” Victoria plays with her necklace. “He's pretty good at the whole gift-giving thing.”

“I can't wait,” Sam says. “It's been a long time since I've seen a game live.”

(
How long?
Adam wonders.
Before the accident?
)

“It'll be amazing,” Victoria says. “You guys will have so much fun.”

“As long as they win,” Adam says.

They all kind of look at one another. Look around the apartment.

“So listen,” Sam says, “I was going to offer you dinner, but I'm a terrible cook. You guys want to go for hamburgers or something?”

They go out for hamburgers. Victoria doesn't seem to mind walking slow so Sam can keep up in his wheelchair.

She doesn't seem to care when there's a snowdrift blocking the sidewalk and they have to take the long way around to the burger shack.

She doesn't complain when they have to wait an extra ten minutes for the restaurant staff to move a couple tables around so that Sam can wheel his way through.

She talks to Sam, jokes with him, holds the door for him.

She and Sam tease Adam mercilessly.

Adam doesn't mind.

Victoria's smiling.

Sam's smiling.

The burgers are delicious.

It's a wonderful night.

Adam and Victoria walk Sam back to his apartment. Victoria hugs Sam good night. Sam hugs her back. Then he looks at Adam.

“Don't look at me,” Adam tells him. “I'm not hugging you.”

They shake hands instead. It's awkward but it's also kind of nice. Adam and Victoria wait as Sam wheels himself into the apartment building and waves good-bye. Then they walk to the bus loop.

“Your brother is amazing,” Victoria tells Adam. “He's a really cool guy.”

“You like him?” Adam asks her. “You had a good time tonight?”

Victoria kisses him. “Of course,” she says.

Adam feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It's a text from Sam.

(
She's a FOX, bro.
)

Adam laughs.

“Sam likes you, too,” he says.

Christmas break ends three days into January. The holiday is over. Adam's back to work.

And Tommy isn't happy.

“I can't keep doing this, man,” Tommy says as Adam hands over the profits from their latest booze run. “Forty bucks a week just isn't worth my time.”

“Come on,” Adam tells him. “We cleaned up at New Year's.”

“I made a hundred bucks,” Tommy says. “I can triple that on a Tuesday night moving pills. You want to make real money, you help me deal to these rich bitches.”

Adam looks around the parking lot. Then he looks back at Tommy.

Nah
, he thinks.
No pills.

Adam has a better idea.

Adam calls Brian. They shoot some more hoops.

“My cousin's still hooking you up?” Brian asks him. “Getting you all the booze you want?”

“Yeah, Tommy's cool.” Adam shoots. Misses. “I think he's a little disappointed by the profits, though.”

Brian catches the ball on the rebound. “I can see that,” he says. “Forty bucks a week or something, right? Ain't paying his car note.”

“I'm thinking I don't need him anyway,” Adam says.

Brian shoots. Makes it. Adam passes the ball back.

“Of course you need him,” Brian says. “You're not legal. Plus you don't have a car. How're you going to sell booze without him?”

“I'm working on it.” Adam catches Brian's rebound. “How'd you like to make some money with me?”

“What, selling booze?” Brian shakes his head. “There's no profit in it, man. You said it yourself. Anyway, I'm not legal, either.”

Adam dribbles the ball once. Then he holds it. “I'm not talking booze,” he tells Brian. “I'm talking IDs.”

Adam's thought process:

Tommy's unhappy. Tommy keeps pushing the pill angle. Adam doesn't want to sell drugs. But Tommy's probably not sticking around much longer at forty bucks a week.

So.

Tommy's out.

Begs the question:

Why doesn't Adam bail from the booze biz himself?

Answer:

Because there's fucking
cachet
in it.

Because parties.

Because popularity.

Because duh.

Adam's selling booze, with or without Tommy. Without Tommy is harder. Without Tommy requires:

               
a)
   
a fake ID.

               
b)
   
a car.

Adam's thought process:

Brian has a car.

Brian probably knows someone with a fake ID hookup.

Brian could probably use some extra cash.

Ergo:

Brian is the new Tommy.

Brian can help Adam score the booze.

But then Adam starts thinking about the other things he could do with a fake ID.

To wit:

- He could buy porn.

- He could buy cigarettes.

- He could get into clubs.

Adam doesn't smoke. He gets his porn online. But he sure as hell would love to get into Crash.

And then Adam thinks:

Wouldn't everybody?

Brian takes Adam to meet this guy he knows, Bondy. Bondy works at a 7-Eleven a few blocks from Riverside High. Brian and Adam pick him up outside the store, drive him to this pretty little house in some suburb somewhere.

Bondy lets them in, offers them a drink, takes them downstairs to his workshop. Guy's got mad computer equipment, printers, camera gear, everything. Like he robbed a Best Buy or something.

“Holy shit,” Adam says. “You're fully equipped.”

Bondy nods. “Professional grade,” he says. “We doing this or what?”

Adam looks around. The camera gear. “You gotta take every kid's picture here in this workshop?”

“Nah.” Bondy shrugs. “They provide the picture. Passport picture's okay, but it's better if they bring in their old ID card, like from their learner's permit or something, and I can fool around with it. If they don't have one, though, it's cool. I can make it work.”

“How long's the turnaround?” Adam asks him.

“Maybe a week? Maybe longer. Depends how busy things get.”

“And this stuff is legit, right? You can get into Crash with this stuff?”

“You could cross the border,” Bondy says. “Check it out.”