Narc (20 page)

“Enough talking. Let’s get out of here,” said Morgan.

I opened the car door and climbed in the front. Cranked the radio, just to smother the noise inside my head. All the songs about hearts and dreams and tears didn’t do any good.

“It’s freaking hot in here,” said Morgan, switching on a portable fan duct-taped to the dashboard. Her driving skills hadn’t improved. The Explorer groaned and sputtered and finally stalled in the middle of the highway.

“You’re going to wear out the clutch,” I told her.

“Fine. Since you’re the expert, you can drive.”

She threw the keys in my lap. I had no choice except to slide behind the wheel.

The girls screeched at me to drive faster, so I hit the gas. I had to admit, this was a hell of a lot more exciting than driving my dad’s old truck. I was perched so high, I could peer into the smaller sedans beside us, see people messing with their cell phones or munching fries. One woman was actually painting her nails, right on top of the steering wheel.

Morgan rattled off directions. She kind of sounded like her stepmom. “Turn right here. No, I mean left. That’s right.”

I veered into a barren strip mall. There was a military Jeep parked beside an Army Surplus store, and a mannequin draped in fatigues. We got out and the sun drilled into my eyes. As we breezed through the door, a chain of cowbells jingled and slammed against the handle, startling me out of my head.

Skully called, “Hey, Alvaro!” to the dude behind the cash register.

He nodded, and they talked a million miles per hour in Spanish.

“I hate when she does that,” Morgan said, drifting into the guns and ammo aisle. She picked up a pair of aviator goggles and slid them over her face. “Bang,” she said, cocking her finger. “You’re dead.”

“Do you really hate me that much?”

She pushed the goggles against her forehead, making it seem like she had grown another set of eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, player.”

“Look. I don’t think I’m a player or anything. I’m sorry those rumors about us got spread around. But trust me, I’m not the one who did it.”

“I know,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re a nice person.”

I held my breath. “What makes you say that?”

“I’m a really good judge of character.”

“Right. You can’t pull the wool over your ice,” I said.

Morgan smirked. “You’re weird,” she said, ruffling my hair. She grabbed my hand and tugged. I squeezed her fingers, which always seemed cold. “Help me pick out something that doesn’t suck,” she said, squeezing back.

The guy behind the counter said, “Look at Romeo here, surrounded by two beautiful girls. What’s your secret? Just be yourself, yeah? That’s what they say on TV. But it’s bull. Nobody gets laid by being themselves.”

“Stop corrupting him,” Skully said. “Aaron is a pure spirit.”

Morgan snorted. “There is no such thing.”

“I can pretend, right?” Skully shouted, turning the heads of a few people at the register.

Afterwards, we drove to the Big Cheese, a South Miami pizza place. It was packed with college people and screaming kids. Skully’s little brother, Sebastian, was already waiting at the table.

“It took me like, a half hour to skate here,” he said. “Now I’ve got muscles on top of my muscles.”

I slid between the girls. They shouted over my head like a pair of stereo speakers. They were squawking so loudly that the people in the next booth told us to “tone it down.”

Sebastian took out a plastic Circle K bag and tried to unwrap something inside it, but Skully caught him.

“No candy.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said.

“I can hear the wrapper crinkling. You know better.” Skully handed him a fun-sized diabetic granola bar from her bag. “Eat this and shut up.”

“This would be better if it had chocolate chips. You know, I would eat myself if I were chocolate,” he said with his mouth full.

“Then you’d be dead.”

I took another swig of the flat Coke that Skully bought for me. She always paid for everything on her debit card. Yet another reason to feel like a complete asshole.

“You remind me of the long-haired dude in that surfer movie,” Sebastian said.

“Is that a good thing?”

Skully glanced around the table. “He does, right? Look. He’s turning red.”

Just hearing the phrase, “He’s turning red,” took me back to the cafeteria in seventh grade. I listened to the girls laughing, and I got nervous all over again, staring into the grease stains on my paper plate. Maybe hanging with girls had its drawbacks.

“My homeroom teacher is a girl,” said Sebastian, “which is good because the boy teachers are mean. But she always gets my name wrong. I’m like, you’re a teacher. Sound it out,” he said. “But it’s okay. I like older women.”

“Good for you!” Morgan thumped the table. Then she moved onto another topic: My ex-girlfriend.

“Was your ex pretty?” she wanted to know.

“Can we talk about something else?” I asked. Having an ex was another lie I told to fit in.

“Look at his face. He’s still in love with her,” Skully said.

I studied my napkin.

Later, the girls filed into the bathroom, as if they were having a conference in there. Who knows? Maybe they were.

Skully’s brother stayed behind, and we headed for the car after I finished my flat, watered-down Coke. As we walked through the deserted parking lot, he said, “I think Morgan is into you.”

This is how low I’d stooped. I was getting advice from a thirteen-year-old.

“We’re just friends,” I said.

It was true. Why would a cool girl like Morgan be interested in me? I might catch her eye for a while, but it was all fake, so it wouldn’t last long. She’d get bored. This was exactly where I always got stuck, doomed to the friend zone. My sister would probably have an opinion about it … like she did about everything. I never thought I would miss her so much. Or Mom, who started crying every time I called now. So I just stopped calling.

I pulled out my cell and sent Haylie a text message:

OLA KALA?

Minutes passed. Nice. Haylie was ignoring me, just like Collin as soon as he escaped to his fancy college.

I was shivering as I walked to the car. Skully was already in the driver’s seat, honking the horn. I took my time. The night air felt cooler than I could remember, and it was beginning to rain. But it was a good kind of cold. It let me know I was still alive.

“Aaron. Wait up.”

I turned. There was Morgan, clip-clopping after me in her wooden flip-flops. She stopped in the middle of the parking lot, kicked them off, and carried them in both hands.

Then she gave me a hug—a genuine embrace, not one of those fake half ones. I felt like there was more to say, but never enough time. Or it was never the right time.

I looked at her bare feet, at her painted toenails.

“Hop in,” I said, opening the door.

Morgan slid next to me in the backseat. Her knees bumped against mine. Neither of us said anything.

In the passenger seat up front, Sebastian twisted around. “No funny business.”

“Shut up,” his sister said.

Driving along US-1, Skully rolled down the window. I dangled my hand until the tips of my fingers turned numb. Nothing to hear except the tires rolling forward and a deep, still quiet of the air rushing by.

I leaned back and listened.

21 :
Fumble

As we pulled up to Skully’s house, all the lights winked out. The rain had picked up speed, and it looked like the entire neighborhood had lost electricity, judging by the curtain of blackness around the block.

“How long before the power comes back?” I asked.

Skully hunted for her keys, dripping and swearing. “Damn it. I can’t even find the door knob.”

Only a month ago, Morgan was showing me around the house. Now I was clutching her damp hand and pulling her into the living room. We bumped into chairs and stumbled over the carpet. Rain drummed the roof, never slowing.

Everyone went to Skully’s room to watch a movie on her laptop, but Morgan said she didn’t feel like it.

“I’m all sweaty,” she said.

I had already peeled off my T-shirt. The house was sweltering without the AC. Plus it was so quiet, I could hear my heart thudding away.

“I’ve got an idea,” Morgan told me. “Let’s go swimming.”

“In a rainstorm?”

“It’s not like it’s thundering or anything. Come on, you wuss. Are you scared?”

“No,” I said. It wasn’t the rain that was making me nervous.

“You are totally scared! I can tell,” she said.

Morgan squealed and ran down the stairs. I followed after her. When we reached the patio door, she flung it open. Both of us stood in the rain, completely soaked. Morgan stuck out her tongue, as if catching snowflakes. I wondered if she’d ever seen snow.

I watched, dumbfounded, as she tugged off her blouse. It was dark, but I could see her milk-white skin, which almost seemed to glow. She began to wiggle out of her jeans.

“It’s weird if you watch me do this,” she said.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Turn around. And no peeking.”

“I’m not.”

At last, she said, “Okay, I’m ready.”

She was just in a bra and panties, which isn’t that different from a bikini. Yet somehow, it is. Her thighs were etched with tiny scars. It hurt to look at them.

“Now you,” she said.

Morgan watched me unbuckle my pants and drop them to the ground. I kicked them across the patio.

“That was dramatic,” she said.

She laced her fingers through mine. We took off, jogging toward the deep end. At the last minute, she let go. I plunged in, feet-first, and sank to the bottom, where I looked up at the raindrops dotting the surface of the pool like Braille. Then I paddled my way to the ladder and pulled myself out.

“Shit,” I said.

“What’s up?” Morgan asked.

“I lost one of my contacts.” No use keeping the other one, so I pinched it out, too.

“I didn’t know you wore contacts,” she said. “You should just get Lasik or something.”

“A laser beam in my eye? No thanks,” I said, blinking at the trees. At least, they looked like trees. “Why aren’t you jumping in? You tricked me,” I told Morgan.

She giggled. “What are you going to do about it?”

“This,” I said, lunging toward her. She ran, but I was too fast. I locked my arms around her waist and we fell backward into the water. Morgan flailed against me, scissoring her legs. We rose up, sputtering. Her hair was plastered against her face. I smoothed it away and kissed her lips, tasting salt. My hands slid over her thighs. Morgan pulled away. She swam to the edge and clung there, never taking her eyes off me.

“You’re evil,” she said, gasping.

I stood near the pool steps, the rain spilling on me. I had no idea what to say to this girl.

“I told you not to watch me,” she said.

“What am I supposed to look at? You’re the one who wanted to go swimming.”

“I know,” she said, lowering her head. That’s when I figured it out.

“Are you afraid that I’m going to see your scars?” I asked.

Morgan nodded. A surge of guilt washed over me.

“Well, I can’t see much of anything right now. And besides, I don’t care. You’re hot, Morgan. Don’t you know that?”

“You need glasses,” she said.

“No, I don’t. I mean, I do. But that’s not the point.”

“I’m not cutting anymore.”

She was lying.

“Listen,” I said. “That day on the football field, I saw you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

Morgan rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sometimes I just need to … I can’t explain. It’s like a release, you know?”

I didn’t know.

“Sure,” I said. What else could I say?

“Don’t judge me,” she said.

“I’m not.”

The wind kicked up, swirling leaves across the patio and flinging the rain sideways. I felt cold all of a sudden.

Morgan shivered. “Let’s get out of here.”

We left the pool and headed inside, dripping across the tile floor. It was pitch-dark in the house. I couldn’t see where I was going. After a minute, my eyes adjusted, but nothing came into focus. I stumbled upstairs, and Morgan lagged behind.

I unfolded the hide-a-bed, tugged back the sheets, and climbed in. When I finally looked up, Morgan was standing there, naked. She climbed under the covers with me.

I didn’t know what to do. How was I supposed to explain that I’d only had one girlfriend and we “dated” over the computer? It was pathetic, once you thought about it.