Shelf Life (9 page)

chapter sixteen

“You took long enough.” Then she laughs and through squinting eyes I see her take a drag on her cigarette. Her head tilts back and she exhales the smoke straight up at the sky, as if she’s trying to blot out the sun. I stare at the ring of pink lipstick on the end of the cigarette that’s perched between her two fingers.

“Yeah,” is all I manage to
say. “So, um, pizza? You know a good place around here?”

She nods to a building across the street. Unlike the burger joint on one side and the sad Laundromat on the other, the pizza place is in good shape. Not that I’m picky.
Or scared. I mean, I’ve never been in a bar before, but clearly Ava has.

She stubs out her cigarette and shifts her bag higher on her shoulder.

“Let’s go,” I tell her and offer my arm. She smirks, but curls her hand around the inside of my elbow.

“So tell me about yourself, Pete like the penguin. What are you doing at a crappy urban college? Shouldn’t you be milking cows?”

“Actually, yes, but my dad’s covering for me today.” She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, opens her mouth, then closes it. I take advantage of the moment and plunge forward. “I’m pre-veterinary. Don’t know if it’ll ever happen, but I want to go to Ohio State after this.”

“Pre-veterinary…as in cats and dogs?”

“More like cows and horses.”

“I thought Evan was joking about the farm boy thing, but he wasn’t. Funny, you don’t smell like manure.” She leans into my shoulder and sniffs. “Definitely not manure.”

It’s hard to form words with her face so close to mine. The cigarette smell is distracting, but her full lips and long eyelashes win out. I take a deep breath and tug on my pant leg to make room for my growing problem.

“Here we are.”
Cosa Nostra
is stenciled in red across the tinted window. I have no idea what it means, but it’s probably Italian and that means the pizza should be good. My stomach growls its approval. The inside is dark but clean. Neon beer signs decorate the walls, while a juke box churns out some song about a girl with lips like morphine. Ava heads for a booth near the window.

“It’s usually more crowded, but during the summer, campus is almost abandoned
—a ghost town.”

“It’s cool.”

She hands me a menu. “Everything’s good.”

“Then how about I let you order?”

She shrugs. Just then a cute brunette in a green apron saunters up to the table. “Hey, Ava. The usual?”

“Yep.”

“Who’s the new guy?” Pete the new guy is getting annoyed that they’re talking about him like he’s not here.

“This is Pete. Just like the penguin. Pete, this is Desiree. She’s the daytime bartender.”

“Hey, Desiree. Nice name. And, uh, ink.” I’m pretty sure my mom would keel over dead if she ever ran into Desiree. Both arms have tattoos that begin at the wrist and disappear under her white short-sleeved T-shirt. Even her knuckles have designs on them. I don’t realize I’m staring until she holds up her fist in front of my face. There’s a letter on each of her knuckles that spells out “SLUT.” I’m definitely not in Crestlane anymore. “Wow. That’s…something. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay,” Desiree says. “You’ve got the cute, innocent thing going on, so I’ll forgive you. What can I get you to drink?”

“A beer?”

“Not a chance. You’ve got
freshman
all over you.”

I try again.
“Coke?”

“Sure thing.
Ava, you want water?”

“Yes, please. Oh, and I need to talk to you about something later.”

“Cool. You know where to find me.” She nods toward the bar, rips the top sheet off her notepad, and disappears through a set of swinging doors.

I grab a packet of ketchup and begin fiddling with the serrated edges. “So, what’s the usual?”

“Anchovies, onions, and a side of fried mushrooms.” I nearly heave up breakfast. Ava laughs and rolls her eyes. “Pepperoni, mushrooms, and green peppers, with a side of cinnamon bread. It comes with this warm, gooey icing to dip it in. You’ll love it.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.”

Ava cocks her head while folding her arms in front of her on the table. It pushes her boobs up even higher. The cleavage, it calls to me. “So you want to be a vet for cows and horses?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Brunettes or redheads?”

“That’s a trick question. You’re a blonde so I’m pleading the fifth.”

“Smart boy. Any siblings?”

“Younger sister, but she doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a worthless bitch.”

“Ouch. Strong words, Farm Boy. What’s her deal?”

“She’s lazy, she blames everything on me, our parents let her get away with everything, and she treats me like scum.” Plus, she’s screwing my mortal enemy.

“Spoiled brat?”

“Pretty much.”

“What kind of stuff do you grow on your farm?”

“Little bit of everything. My mom keeps a really big kitchen garden, some herbs, and then we have corn and hay for the cows.
Jerseys.”

“What?”

“Jerseys. They’re dairy cows.”

“The cute black and white ones?”

“No, those are Holsteins. We have the brown ones with big doe eyes.”

“I see. So you, like, sit on a wooden stool and milk the cows every day?”

“Twice a day, usually.”

“That’s precious. I’ve never even had a dog. My
mom raised me and there was never money for a pet. Lots of money for cigarettes and wine coolers, but no dog.”

I’m not sure what to say. Looking at her now, you’d never know Ava came from a rough childhood. Her hair and make-up are perfect, her clothes look brand new, and her purse is real leather. I only know that because Dad taught me how to tan hides and make our own leather. She’s got a ring on every finger and small square diamonds sparkle on each of her ears.

“You look like you’re doing okay, though. Besides, dogs can be annoying.” Never mind that my best friend is a dog.

“I’m sure,” she laughs. Desiree appears with our drinks. I didn’t realize I was so thirsty until I suck down half the glass in one gulp. And now I have to belch. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I don’t have soda very often so it’s kind of a treat.”

“Seriously?”

I nod. “My parents are really hardcore into only eating what you grow or what’s made locally.”

“Like, vegetarians?”

“No, but we do eat a lot of vegetables. Fruits, too. We have a small orchard.”

“Wow.
A real, live farmer. With hippies for parents.”

I nearly choke on my Coke. “No, not even close.
The opposite, really. They’re conservative, or at least my dad is. He watches Fox News every night and yells about Big Brother and the government taking away our rights, adding dangerous chemicals to our food, tapping our phone lines, that kind of crap.”

She leans across the table, tracing a finger over the sensitive skin on the back of my hand. “Do you guys grow, uh, anything else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if he’s so anti-government, it would make sense if he made some extra cash on the side.”

“Cash on the side? I’m still not following.”

“Maybe a specialty crop?
Has long serrated leaves and I don’t mean buckeyes.”

“Oh, no.”
A nervous laugh escapes. “The only thing we do on the side is sell the extra cheese and butter we make from the cows’ raw milk. It’s technically illegal, but my parents aren’t exactly bad asses.”

Ava giggles, brushes her thumb over my knuckles, and withdraws her hand. A steaming pizza dripping with cheese lands on the table between us, along with a basket of warm cinnamon bread sticks. I don’t know which to attack first.

“Enjoy,” Desiree says. She leans over and whispers something in Ava’s ear. I watch a wicked grin spread across Ava’s face. It’s contagious. I grin back and only stop to take a bite of the pizza. My mouth has an orgasm.

It’s gooey.

It’s sweet.

And I didn’t have to grind the flour, pick the tomatoes or milk a cow to make the cheese.

After years of homemade crust, my mom’s bitter tomato sauce, and turkey pepperoni, this is nirvana.

Before Desiree takes off, I ask for a refill.
In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Sure thing, hon.”

Ava grabs a slice and winks. “She must think you’re cute.”

“What’s not to like? I’ve got the whole innocent farm boy thing going on, right?”

“Something like that.”

After five slices of pizza, four glasses of Coke, and half a basket of cinnamon bread, my stomach’s about to explode and I’m a happy boy. According to the clock, I’ve got ten minutes until my next class, so I ask for the check and hand Desiree some cash.

“Keep the change,” I tell her. I’m feeling generous.

“Listen,” Ava begins. “There’s a party Saturday night at a house a couple blocks from here.
Nothing crazy, just fun. You ever drink?”

“A couple beers here and there.”

“Cool. I’ll be there, Desiree will probably be there—”

“Your boyfriend going to be there?”

“No, I think he has to work.”

“So he’s not in school?”

“He’s a senior, but he’s on the seven-year plan. Who knows if he’ll ever graduate. Anyway, he won’t be around, I promise. And if he is, we’ll just tell him the truth—that you and I have class together and we’re friends, right?”

“Sure.
Sounds good.”

“So you’ll come?”

“I’ll try.”

“Give me your phone.”

“My phone? Why?”

“You are totally cute.
Because I want to give you my number and the address of the party.”

“Oh, right.” I dig in the front pocket of my backpack and pull out my ancient flip phone. For a second, I consider telling her I lost it so she won’t see, but then I think about hanging out with her at a party, drinking beer and basically not spending the night with my parents thinking about how my two best friends dumped me. I hand her the phone.

“How retro! Gimme a sec.” She takes her time typing. More than once she glances up at me to make sure I’m watching her. She knows I am. She’s the type of girl who expects it, the kind who’s gotten attention from guys her whole life. If I’m honest with myself, she’s the type who would never normally pay any attention to someone like me. I’m not sure why she agreed to go to lunch with me, but for now, I don’t care. She’s in public with me, wants to see me at a party, and that’s enough.

Her fingers brush mine when she hands back my phone. “See you in class, Farm Boy. Oh, and thanks for lunch.”

“Sure. See you.”

Now I just have to figure out how to convince my parents to let me go to the party Saturday night.

chapter seventeen

“E
arth to Pete.” I’m still thinking of what I’ll tell my parents when Jenna snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Did you hear a word of the lecture?” Students are filtering out of Dr. Roberts’ class. I glance at my watch and sure enough, three hours have passed and I don’t remember a word.

“Huh?”

“That’s what I thought. Give me your email and I’ll send you a copy of my notes.”

“Thanks.” I scribble it on a piece of paper and hand it to her. She plucks it out of my hand with her thumb and forefinger, as if she’s afraid to touch me. She’s so not Ava.

“Have you thought about the final project yet? We’re allowed to work with a partner and I thought maybe…”

“Oh yeah, sure.
If you want to work together that’d be great.” Saves me from having to kiss up to anyone else in this class, plus, Jenna’s a real bookworm, I can tell. If I play my cards right, she’ll take over most of the report and I can concentrate on biology—and other things.

“I have to work Saturday but I’m free that evening. We could meet at the library or a coffee place and figure out what we’re going to do the report on.”

“Yeah. Wait, no. I’m going to a party Saturday night.” I hope.

“Oh.” Her face falls. “There’s a big one off
campus, but…”

“But what?”

“Nothing. I’m sure it’s not the same party you’re going to. You don’t seem like that type.”

“What type?” Okay now she’s just messing with my head.

“Never mind. I’m being stupid. I have a couple topics in mind, but I’ll just email them to you.” She begins stuffing her textbook and notes into her bag and stands. She’s only taken two steps when they all fall out and fan across the floor. Her chin begins to quiver.

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I need to go, that’s all.”

“You sure?”
She nods as I hand her a stray pen.

“Have fun at your party,” she says before bolting out of the lecture hall.

Girls are so weird. One minute you’re having a normal conversation and the next they’re almost in tears. If it weren’t for today’s awesome lunch with Ava, I’d think about giving them up altogether. I mean, Lindsey freaked out and blamed me for what happened to Lewis, then my mom took Lindsey’s side and freaked on me, Sarah’s a bitch to the core, and now Jenna’s acting all weird.

Whatever.

That night, I check my email and, true to her word, there’s one from Jenna.

          “Pete, attached
are my notes from class. Have a nice day.”

Great, so she’s pissed at me, too, and I have no idea why.

The notes are meticulous and freakishly organized.

“Whiskey Rebellion: Began in 1791. Centered
around Pittsburgh, PA. Was a tax protest by veteran farmers who used excess corn to make whiskey. President George Washington and Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton levied a new tax on it to pay the war debt. Farmers viewed it as an attempt to increase power of the central government. Many farmers were veterans who felt they’d just fought a war to avoid similar taxes by federal governments.

“Came to a climax in 1794 when a U.S.
marshall delivered writs to distillers in Western PA who had not paid. Home of local tax inspector Gen. John Neville was attacked by 500. Washington sent peace commissioners, plus a militia of 13,000 from regional states. He led them to the area, but the rebels had returned home. Many were arrested, but no real physical conflict.”

If no one got hurt, I’m not sure it qualifies as a real rebellion. I don’t even know why we’re studying this except the taxation without representation thing. I had my fill of that in high school, thanks.

After sending a quick thank-you to Jenna, I turn off my computer, shutting out all thoughts of centuries-old rebellions. I’ve got a more current rebellion to plan.

***

The rest of the week flies by. Saturday dawns warm and hazy, so much so that after my chores, I take a quick dip in the icy creek. Unlike the day I discovered Dad tripping in the underbrush, it’s peaceful here. Years of pounding water carved a natural basin in the rock, creating a series of short waterfalls that empty into a small but deep pool. I’ve been jumping off the ledge above it since I was a kid, and right now, I might as well be one.

Clear water rushes over the rocks, the trees
shimmer a brilliant emerald green, and the summer sky is a perfect shade of blue, untouched by a single cloud. Except for Bennie—who’s followed me out here, but refuses to get in the water—I’m completely alone.

The morning’s work slides off my skin as I cut through the water. It’s not warm and does nothing to relax the tightness in my shoulders, but the atmosphere is enough to lift the lion’s share of weight that’s settled there. I stretch out my arms to either side and tilt back my head so only my legs work to keep me afloat. As I tread water, faces appear before my closed eyes.

Lindsey. Always Lindsey, fair, freckled and fiery.

Mom.
So angry and looking older every day.

Ava.
Sex on a stick.

Lewis.
Scared, humiliated, alone.

Jay.
A smug smile on his fat face.

Sarah. Frozen in horror when she realized I saw her half-naked with Jay.

I’m convinced life would be better if I locked myself in the bunker and became a hermit. No, that’s not true. I just need to get out of this town and start over in a bigger city like Columbus. Everything will be better when I build a life there.

Dad’s whistle cuts through the woods. Bennie barks in response and they repeat the process in a game of Marco Polo, except I’m the only one in the water. A few seconds later, Dad breaks through the trees and sets down his fishing pole.

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to come fishing with me, but looks like you’re planning on becoming one.”

“Just washing off the sweat.”

“Yeah, today’s a warm one,” he says, and looks upstream toward his favorite spot.

“Hey, uh, I have this thing I have to do for school. A project for that class you and Mom wanted me to take.”

“Oh? You need some help? You know I’ve got plenty to say and I can tell you about anything you want to know—”

“I know, Dad. You’d love this class, but we’re supposed to work with a partner and we need to figure out what we’re doing. We’re meeting at the library just off campus tonight. That okay?” No reason to tell him I’m working with a girl or that it’s not her I’m meeting tonight.

“Sure, sure, whatever you need. Just watch out at night. That’s when all them gang-bangers come out.”

“Um, yeah.
I’ll be careful.” Gangbangers? It’s just Youngstown, not a major city. “Can you tell Mom? She’s still not speaking to me.”

He waves his hand. “I’ll take care of it. She’s still pretty riled, but she wants you to do well in your classes, especially this one.”

Under my breath I mutter, “I was counting on that.”

“
Alrighty then, see you later, son.”

“Bye, Dad.”

That was easier than I expected. With that out of the way, it’s time to think about all the possibilities tonight holds. The last party I went to was a disaster, but lightning doesn’t strike twice and I don’t plan to stand still long enough to tempt it. Time to put high school behind me. Time to stop living under my parents’ delusions about the big, bad world out there.