How to Win at High School (23 page)

Shit
, Adam thinks.
Right
.

“I was thinking we could just meet up at the bus loop and take the tunnel bus over,” Sam says. “Like, after you get done with school or something? It's probably good if we get there a little early, because, you know, sometimes these places aren't exactly wheelchair friendly, right?”

Adam thinks about taking the bus with Sam. Wheeling him into the hockey arena, trying to navigate about a million and a half people. Trying to get home at the end of the night.

Crap
, he thinks.
What was I thinking?

“Anyway,” Sam says, his voice artificial, like he's trying to be cheerful. “Give me a shout and we'll work out the details, okay?

“Hope you're doing good,” Sam says.

“Later,” Sam says.

Adam looks out the window of the cab. It's nothing but identical McMansions for miles. The cab idles forward. The
phone is hot against his ear.

The answering machine prompts him to save or delete.

Adam deletes the message.

He keeps looking for the sophomore's address.

You already know what's going to happen, right?

I mean, I shouldn't have to spell it out for you.

Tommy looks surprised when Adam and Brian pay him their next visit. “You need more already?”

Adam grins at him. “What did I tell you?”

“I guess I should have listened,” Tommy says. He goes into his bedroom and comes out with another Ziploc bag. “I thought you kids were a couple of screwups.”

“Screwups?” Adam laughs at him. “Fuck that. We're taking over.”

“Uh-huh,” Tommy says. “You hear from Jamal yet?”

“Dude doesn't even know we exist.”

“Oh, he knows,” Tommy says. “Jamal knows everything that goes on in this town. Just don't lead his ass back to me.”

“You'll be fine,” Adam tells him. “Get another package ready for us. Two weeks.”

“You thinking about a new car?” Adam asks Brian as they dodge more eighteen-wheelers on the drive home from Tommy's. The Sunfire is wheezing, rattling, squealing,
dying
.

Brian frowns. “What's wrong with my car?” he says. “I like it.”

“The money we're going to be making, you could pick up something sweet. A Camaro, maybe. Something
pimp
.”

“I'm not really a car guy,” Brian says. “Anyway, I'm more concerned with not getting killed.”

Brian looks at Adam. “Jamal's scary, man.”

“You're scary,” Adam tells him.

“Jamal's huge.”

“
You're
huge.”

“Not as big as Jamal,” Brian says. “I heard he stabbed a guy once. Anyway,” he sighs. “Dude, I'm really not sure about this.”

“I know,” Adam says. “You keep saying that.”

“This money we're making, it's
drug
money.”

“You'd rather be making pizza money?”

“Fuck,” Brian says. “I don't know. I'm just worried, man. I don't want to get my ass beat or end up in jail.”

“You just gotta be ballsy,” Adam tells him. “We'll be fine.”

Brian drives a mile or so. “I hope so,” he says finally. “I really hope so, man.”

The product keeps moving.

Pizza Man is a machine.

Anyone who bought homework, or booze, or a fake ID, Adam pitches the new scheme.
Party favors. Rock out this weekend like a god.

Some kids aren't into it. Some say no to drugs. Adam respects that. No need for the hard sell. There are more than enough buyers as is.

He gets Amanda Rimes, Brian's girlfriend, to sell to the sophomore kids. Distributes from his locker at lunchtime, at Cardigan's after school. It's decent money. It's not Mercedes money. It fills the fake ID gap, though, and the girls seem to love it. Adam hits a lot of parties.

(More than the rest of Nixon's ruling class
combined
.)

Adam's
busy
.

So's the rest of his team.

“Just pick up a couple of my assignments,” Adam tells Wayne. “Just once. And maybe next week too. I'm swamped with this party-favor stuff.”

Wayne looks at Adam. Frowns. “You sure about this, man? Maybe we need to scale back a little.”

“Are you kidding?” Adam asks him. “Do you know who I am to these people?”

“You're a god,” Devon says. “You slept with Janie Ng and
Leanne Grayson at the same time. People love you. So why keep pushing?”

“They don't love me,” Adam tells him. “They love what I do for them. I have to keep going until they respect me.”

“Okay.” Wayne kind of frowns. “I just, you know, I need a break too. I'm supposed to go out with Sara this weekend and you're piling it on, man.”

“We
all
need a break,” Lisa says. “This workload is ridiculous, Adam.”

“I know, guys. I'm sorry,” Adam says. “We're all working hard here.”

“Are we?” Lisa rolls her eyes. “All you do lately is party and hook up with sophomore girls, from the looks of it.”

“I have other business,” Adam tells her. “It's not just the homework. Listen, I'll try and find help, though. Keep it together until things calm down again and I'll make it worth your while.”

“Yeah?” Lisa says. “How?”

“Two hundred dollars,” Adam says. “Each. Monthly bonus.”

Lisa rolls her eyes again. “Weak.”

“You don't want it?” Adam says.

“She didn't say that.” Wayne sighs. “We just really need a break, Adam. Cut us some slack.”

“I
know
,” Adam says. “I'm working on it, okay?”

“Okay,” they tell him. They sigh and nod and promise to keep at it. They're tired, but the machine keeps rolling. The money's too good. The perks. The popularity. They can't look Adam in the eye, though, as they're walking away. None of them can.

The machine doesn't stop rolling. The game doesn't just end. The thing about a takeover is you can't just quit halfway. Even if you want to, even if you wish you could just sit down and shut up and just be satisfied—

(with Victoria)

(with middling popularity)

(with a little bit of cash and a few decent friends)

—there's no stopping, not once you've tasted success. Not once you know what it feels like to be a god. Not when this has been your rightful place all along.

The homework keeps getting done. The pills practically sell themselves. The money keeps coming. The girls—

(Ashley Cody

Toni Crowson

Elizabeth O'Brien

Andrea Stevens

Stacey Roy

Allison um, Allison something—

(they all kind of blur together) )

It goes on and on and on. Adam has more fun than anyone. More hookups than anyone. And he makes sure everyone sees it.

(Especially Rob Thigpen.)

(#rockstar)

(#TonyMontana)

The nights are long. Sleep is minimal. The parties are epic and the comedowns are brutal. The texts keep rolling in. IM. Facebook. Twitter. Ceaseless. Incessant. Someone always wants more.

There's always another opportunity. Another party. Another pretty girl. There's always another dollar to be made, another favor to be curried.

The game continues, long after you've won.

The machine keeps rolling, until

pretty soon

you're not even sure you can control it anymore.

Sam finally gets ahold of Adam.

“Holy crap, buddy,” he says. “Check your messages much? Where the hell have you been?”

Adam sighs. Looks across at his desk.

A stack of homework assignments.

A baggie of pills.

A box of condoms.

(
I should really hide this stuff
, he thinks.)

“Where have I been?” he asks Sam. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“I just wanted to make sure you didn't forget about the game,” Sam says. “I hate to be a nag, but it's next Thursday.”

“Yeah,” Adam says. “Next Thursday night. Definitely.”

“You're cool with taking the bus?”

(
Since I still don't have a Porsche
, Adam thinks.)

“Definitely,” Adam says. “I'll meet you at the bus loop after school. Four o'clock.”

“Four o'clock,” Sam says. “See you there.”

“Definitely,” Adam says.

Poor Sam.

“Jamal's pissed,” Janie says.

Her parents are out of town. Adam has a shit ton of homework jobs, but . . .

Janie's parents are out of town.

Adam's lying there on Janie's mom and dad's water bed, staring straight into space as the ceiling spins above him, feeling Janie's hand on his chest as she lies curled up beside him.

(They broke up, a while back, Adam and Janie—

(you remember)

—but, you know.

Nothing is forever.

Especially when there are drugs involved.)

“Paul told Jamal we're all buying from you now.” Janie runs her fingers across Adam's chest, and the way the drugs are working, her touch feels like electricity. “Jamal didn't like it. He got pissed. He wanted to know where you live.”

“Forget Jamal,” Adam tells Janie. “I'm not afraid of him.”

“He's, like, a gangster,” Janie says. “Maybe you should be afraid of him.”

“What is this, a movie?” Adam says. “What's he going to do?”

“I heard he stabbed somebody,” Janie says.

“Whatever,” Adam says.

Janie's silent for a while. She's still touching Adam's chest
and he lies there and looks at the ceiling and enjoys her electric touch.

Then Janie sits up and looks at Adam. “If we break up again, does that mean I have to pay full price for your pills?”

“Dude,” Brian says. “I know you're living large and everything, but you gotta ease off on the free samples. It's seriously cutting into our profit.”

They're making another run back to Tommy's place. Brian's been trying to figure out the math. The math came in real short. Adam knows why.

Janie Ng.

And Audrey Klein.

And another sophomore, Kaylee Preston.

And maybe a few freebees for Paul Nolan and Alton Di Sousa at a party.

(“Thanks, Adam.”)

It's an investment, right?

(An investment in what?)

Popularity don't pay the bills.

“Sorry, man,” Adam tells Brian. “Take it out of my share. I'll pay it back.”

Brian thinks about it. Brian sighs. “Fine,” he says. “I guess that works.”

Never mind the money. The machine is chewing Adam up. Wayne and Lisa and Devon are taking on most of the homework at this point. The partying, the pills, the comedown, it's too much. Little by little, the machine's falling apart.

“What's happening, Adam?” Ms. Garvey says as she hands back the latest geography assignments. “I didn't get a paper from you. Did you forget?”

Adam didn't forget. He was finishing Rob Thigpen's and Alton Di Sousa's projects instead. “I'm sorry, Ms. Garvey,” Adam tells her. “I've been busy.”

“Get it to me by Friday,” Garvey tells him, “or I have to give you a zero.”

Adam tells her he will. Adam fully intends to. Adam's off the pills, off Janie Ng, off Kaylee Preston.

Adam's on homework.

100 percent.

Then Lisa Choi quits.

“It's nothing personal,” Lisa says. “I'm just tired of this, man.”

“I'll get you help,” Adam tells her. “I'll pull my share again. Hire another employee. Just give me a little time.”

Lisa shakes her head. “It isn't fun anymore, Adam. I don't need it.”

“The money—”

“Forget the money,” Lisa says. “You could pay me double and I'd still walk.”

“Why?”

“It's just . . .” Lisa sighs. “It's
you
, man. You're just kind of an asshole. You work us to the bone while you're off hooking up and partying and whatever. You take half our money and you don't even earn it.

“Hell,” Lisa says, “Wayne handles half of the meetings these days, even. What's to stop us from doing something like this on our own, anyway?”

“Don't you dare,” Adam tells her. “Don't you
dare
, Lisa. I'll—”

“You'll what? Relax, Pizza Man.” Lisa shrugs. “I just want my life back.”

And that's that. Lisa hands in her last assignments, takes her final day's pay, and walks out of Cardigan's and out of this story. Just like Victoria, she doesn't look back.

“Forget her,” Adam tells Wayne and Devon. “We don't need her.”

Wayne and Devon share a look. “We kinda do, Adam,” Devon says. “We're swamped.”

Wayne nods. “All due respect, but I don't think I can keep this up any longer.”

“It's too much,” Devon says. “Humans weren't made to do this much homework.”

“Don't you guys start,” Adam says.

“We just need help,” Wayne says. “Figure something out,
please
. I'm not sure how much more we can take.”

“Not interested.”

Adam stares at the kid. Can't believe it. “Not interested,” he says. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The kid's name is Cameron Cardinal. He's a sophomore, but he's supposed to be brilliant. His Facebook page says he wants to be an accountant, so Adam knows he likes money, and he's always wearing Lacoste and Ralph Lauren to school—

(even though his stuff looks like he bought it at the discount store and might even be fake).