One of the Guys (5 page)

“I want to go back to Burlington,” I say. I hold my breath.
Please. Say yes. Set everything right again
.

“Ugh! I can't let you do that, Toni.” She shakes her head, smiling. Ha. I knew it was a trick, but I'm still disappointed. A simple yes would've solved everything. “Winston is an amazing opportunity for you. Burlington was stunting your growth.”

Annoying. I don't need to grow. I think I'm good as I am, thanks.

Inside, we each order an iced latte—I inherited my mother's taste in all things beverage—and choose a table by the window. I press my head against the glass and sigh dramatically.

“How did group go today?” she asks.

Oh, that group and sharing feelings thing. My nightmare. “I've been transformed into a woman who eloquently expresses her feelings,” I say. “I'm cured.”

“We're not trying to
cure
you…” Mom stops and takes a break from trying to raise my mood as she sips her latte in silence.

When a red VW Bug arrives in the parking lot, I sit up a little straighter. My spirits raise. The Bug belongs to Ollie. I wonder if the guys have come looking for me.

“Wouldn't you know it. Your gentlemen have arrived.” Mom sounds less than thrilled. “Which reminds me. Have you met any nice girls at school? It couldn't hurt to have at least one female friend.”

I'm not really listening. I'm watching Ollie and Cowboy climb out of the Bug, joking around, happy as can be. Ollie puts Cowboy in a headlock. Cowboy wiggles to get free with no success, so he stomps on Ollie's foot. Ollie howls, laughing as he grabs his neon orange sneaker. Cowboy punches Ollie in the shoulder.

I chuckle. Those guys. Okay. So now they should march right in here to apologize for flaking out lately. All will be back to normal again. But they don't even look my way. As they walk toward the pizza place a few doors down, I tap on the glass, confused and a little panicky. I feel pathetic, but I don't care. I need them to notice me. Finally, they spin around and spot me.

Ollie walks right up to the window, lifts his shirt, and presses his stomach against the glass, shouting, “McRib!”

And then he starts sliding down, his belly fat screeching against the glass. Mom almost chokes on her latte. I don't laugh. I refuse to laugh. I'm mad at them for forgetting me.

Ollie beats the glass with his fists.

“Hey! Stop that!” The strung-out man behind the counter shouts. “I'll call the cops, you punks!”

Ollie skips to the door, and Cowboy trails behind. I sip my latte, masking my hurt. What are they doing here? Without me?

“McRib! What's up?” Ollie announces as the door swings shut behind him.

“Luke,” Mom says to Ollie and then nods at Cowboy. “Justin.”

Ollie nods back. “Mrs. McRib.”

Mom leans back. “Please don't call me that. Aren't you all a little old for nicknames?”

“You don't mess with tradition,” Cowboy says.

“Why does my sweet, lovely daughter have to be named after a sandwich?” Mom asks. “Why can't you call her Princess? Or Daisy? I don't know. Something cute.”

“Mom,” I protest. “Do. Not. Give. Them. Any. Ideas.”

Ollie places his palms flat on the table and says in a low voice, “Your daughter ate ten McRibs in one sitting, Mrs. McRib. She is a bad-ass.”

“Not my finest moment, Ollie.” I press my lips together, annoyed. My stomach aches just thinking about those sandwiches.

“Oh, good. You're acknowledging my presence again.” Ollie sweeps a hand through his dark curls, his signature just-rolled-out-of-the-sack look. In reality, he spends an hour in front of the mirror every morning to achieve such an artful hairstyle. His hair looks longer than normal, wisps of curls flirting with his narrow forehead, a sign we haven't been seeing each other as often.

Cowboy shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and pretends to be studying the menu. He chomps on a toothpick, squints, and then fidgets with the cuffs of his flannel button-down.

Why does seeing them feel so weird?

After the mooning incident, everything changed so quickly. One minute, I was a Burlington High senior. The next, I was accepted into Winston and swept into a different world. I hung out with Loch on his nights off, texted with everyone, but this run-in with Ollie and Cowboy feels so awkward, like I'm seeing them after a year apart or something. Maybe because Loch is missing from the equation.

Or maybe for a different reason altogether. Maybe we're growing apart.

Cowboy's cheeks appear fuller, more flushed, his blue eyes fresh and bright. I wonder if I look different to them, too. Or maybe this is all just my imagination.

Yet I feel that little empty space in the middle of my chest. A space growing wider every second, every day.

I must look uncomfortable because Mom gives me a strange look, clears her throat, and stands. “You know,” she says. “I have to make a few calls. Be right back.”

She goes outside and pretends to dial a number on her cell phone, stealing glances at me. Yes, she would like for me to collect at least one friend of the female variety, but she knows how much the guys mean to me. Despite her distaste for the old nicknames, Mom approves of the boys. They were beyond amazing to me, and her, when Dad died. I was fifteen when he had his accident. I needed my friends then, and they didn't fail me.

Ollie plops down across from me and asks, “What's your problem, McRib?”

My latte is empty, but I continue to sip through the straw.

“You're pissed,” Cowboy says. He pulls up a chair beside me, the metal legs squeaking against the tile, and leans his elbows on the table.

“You guys forgot about the hunt,” I say. “Like it was no big deal.”

Ollie frowns and rubs the back of his neck. “My parents were mad about what happened with Principal Rogers, Toni. I can't go running off doing whatever I want. I'm in parental suck-up mode.”

“I'm sorry.” My throat tightens. A rush of guilt hits me.

We should've just gone home that night. Oh, the irony. I'd been trying so hard to hold us together for a few more hours, and now it feels like we're headed in different directions.

“You didn't make me do it,” Ollie says, sighing. “But I have to come up with tuition for this snowboarding camp I want to try out next summer. The parents insist I pay for half now. Something about responsibility, blah, blah, blah…”

“Snowboarding camp?” This is the first time I'm hearing about this.

Ollie nods. “Not sure it'll even happen anyway. It's pretty expensive.”

“And I'm sorry about missing the hunt, McRib. I got distracted,” Cowboy says. “Katie Morris. She
spoke
to me.”

Ollie pulls the sleeves of his long blue T-shirt over his hands. “He could barely function after that,” he says, laughing.

I grin, tasting a hint of the old times again. Maybe he's forgiven me for the prank. “What'd she say?”

“
Excuse me
.” Cowboy sighs.

I wait for more, but that appears to be it. I shrug. “Well. That's a start.”

“She bumped into me.” Cowboy blushes. “It was awesome.”

Ollie jumps out of his seat. “Anyway. Hope that clears stuff up. I'm starving! Later, McRib.”

“Wait. Where you going?” Just when things feel comfortable again, they're leaving. I stand up so fast my chair tips back, hitting the floor with a loud
clank
. As I scramble to turn the chair upright, the man behind the counter gives me a dirty look.

“Just getting some pizza,” Ollie replies.

Cowboy stands, shifting his weight from foot to foot, acting like he wants to say something else to me. I wait for an invitation to join them. Instead, Cowboy nods goodbye, and I watch them leave. They joke around outside and wave goodbye to Mom, laughing and hollering all the way to the pizza place two doors down.

I feel like Loch's little sister. The old Amy, anyway. I feel like a shadow.

five

T
HAT NIGHT,
I
'M DETERMINED
to wash away the memory of the horrible week by saturating my mind with horror flicks. Images of stupid teenagers being chased down by indestructible killers mixed with awful special effects and bad decisions will surely lift my spirits. I stack five movies next to my laptop that I know will melt my brain, slide in the first DVD, and settle in for a night of wallowing in misery.

It's not even dark out yet, so I close the curtains to create atmosphere.

I'm about halfway through
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
(the original) when there's a knock on my door. I'm twisted up in my comforter, lying in the fetal position at the foot of my bed, watching the small screen on the floor with vague interest.

“Can't you tell I'm sulking in here?” I shout. The door opens and a slit of light creeps into the room. I hiss like a vampire. “Augh! No light!”

The shoes that step in are a pair I recognize but hadn't expected to see. Two dirt-smudged sneakers decorated with an ink-drawing of a cartoonishlooking Champ. The right sneaker has Champ's body and tail, the left his smiling head and cute eyes. When I sit up, my tangled hair falls over my face.

Loch closes the door, bathing the room again in a dull glow that matches my current outlook on life. “How
dare
you have a horror-fest without me,” he says.

I cover my mouth with the blanket to hide my smile.

He's alive.

He's here.

He hasn't forgotten me.

“I thought you'd be too busy enjoying your senior year,” I say, clearing my throat. “One of us should.”

Loch sits down beside me, smelling like vanilla as always. I lean over and sniff him, breathing in the reminder of a past life.

“Sorry,” he says, smelling his armpit. “I came from work.”

I sit back, aware that I'm smelling my friend. “Yeah, about that. What the hell?”

Loch stares at the laptop. The sound of the chainsaw echoes from the speakers. He rubs his head in one quick movement, like he's wiping it clean, a habit he picked up last year after he shaved it. Specks of black hair cast a shadow across his skin as it grows back in, matching the whiskers along his cheeks.

Everything about Loch suggests a work-inprogress. His smudged shoes. His ripped jeans. His worn T-shirt with “The Lake Monster Lives” scrawled across the front in black magic marker. His appearance doesn't give off the impression that he's a neat freak. But he is.

“You're looking at the newest cashier of the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory Gift Shop,” he says, leaning his head against my bed.

My eyes widen. “Do you get free teddy bears?”

“I get a discount. You want one?”

“That depends. Do they have a Texas Chainsaw Massacre Teddy Bear?”

He laughs. “If they don't, that's a crime.”

Despite my determination to sulk all evening, I end up grinning again. We sit like that for a few minutes, side-by-side, watching the movie, until Loch clears his throat.

“Can you keep a secret from the guys?” he asks.

I look at him, surprised. “It would be my pleasure.”

“This is kind of embarrassing,” he adds as he reties his shoes. I pinch his knee, letting him know that I'm here. His cheeks redden, his brown eyes cast downward as he speaks. “My parents had to dip into my college fund to pay the mortgage. If I want to go to UVM next year, I have to contribute. A lot.”

“Seriously?” I'm almost at a loss for words. Loch nods. His mom was laid off from her job two years ago, but I never realized how serious that was. Whenever I saw her, she looked happy. Loch said she decided to take some time off so I figured they were good. Amazing what people can hide.

“And your parents are just now telling you this?” I ask.

“They thought they would have the money back by now,” he says. “It wasn't part of the plan. They're both upset about it. They feel shitty, and I don't want to make them feel worse. It is what it is.”

Loch and I always planned to attend UVM together. He would major in Zoology while I took general ed classes for a year, trying to decide who I wanted to be, what I wanted to do. He had promised to help me find my way. I applied to other colleges, including Purdue University in Indiana, where my dad went. But I haven't told Loch that I'm considering going there. It pains me to think about being completely on my own.

I shift my weight. “What about scholarships?”

He shrugs. “Do they give scholarships for desperately average C-students?”

“If they don't, that's a crime,” I mimic.

Loch slugs my shoulder. “So that's my life now, Toni. When I'm not in school, you can find me selling stuffed animals to tourists and kids. My path to a better future.”

“And you can find me crossing my ankles, wearing plaid skirts, and talking about my feelings. Not exactly what we planned for our senior year, huh?”