The Boy Who Killed Grant Parker (11 page)

When I saw Grant around school he would glare menacingly at me, but he didn't come after me publicly anymore. For a while I thought maybe the whole thing would blow over, that by standing up to Grant I had convinced him to leave me alone. Or maybe Don was right and Grant was plotting my demise. This was the infinitely more likely scenario.

In class I spent most of my time fantasizing about the ways Grant might try to ruin my life, and how I could avoid him. I was doing my best to fly under the radar, but there were new developments that prevented me from doing that.

People started inviting me to parties and to participate in school functions. I was asked to join the 4-H club, but since I had no idea what it was, I said that I would have to think about it. Even after googling “4-H club” I was still unsure what it was, so I didn't commit. I was even asked to join the Future Farmers of America, but my one interaction with livestock had convinced me this was not a career path I should follow.

*   *   *

The same week I was invited to join the 4-H club I got the shock of my life. Ballots were distributed during homeroom for the homecoming court, and there, listed alphabetically first under the nominees for homecoming king, was my name.

“Jesus!” I yelped without thinking.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Grayson?” Ms. Bartlett, my homeroom teacher, asked, as I had interrupted her midsentence.

“Uh, no—no. No problem.” But there was a problem. A huge problem. I was competing directly for homecoming king with none other than Grant Parker. I couldn't imagine who had nominated me. But I knew that I needed at least three nominations to be put into the running. I wondered if Don was behind this, but when I saw him at lunch, he was as mystified as I was.

“What are you so concerned about?” Don asked. “It's not as if you'll win.”

“I know that,” I said, though to be honest I had entertained the idea as possible. I mean, after all, I was the guy who had stood up to Grant Parker. And I had yet to be shoved into a locker or run off the road while riding my bike to and from school. I had taken both of those things as positive signs.

I wondered if maybe Delilah was behind my nomination. It was exactly the kind of thing she would do. She'd love to stir up trouble without thinking through the situation. Or do it just to amuse herself.

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn't vote for you,” Don said. “It would create more problems with Grant if you won. Because Penny will win homecoming queen, and then you'd be dancing with Grant's girl at homecoming. It would be a mess.”

“Well, see? If you didn't vote for me then I'm sure no one else did either,” I said. “I'm not worried about it.”

And I wasn't. Even if people didn't make me feel excluded anymore, Grant was still the star quarterback, still the student council president. I couldn't, didn't want to, compete with him. On any level.

 

16

On Friday nights just about everyone in town turned out for the high school football game. Stores and restaurants closed, so even if you wanted to be somewhere else during the game, there was nothing else to do.

Don, Aaron, and I sat together at the game. We hugged the obscurity of the seats near the band, a safe zone where none of the in crowd would dare sit, so we could avoid mistreatment by any of Grant Parker's minions or risk another run-in with Willie the Wildcat.

Dad led the entire home side of the bleachers in a prayer, the crowd secure in its belief that Jesus was a football fan. And not just a fan, but a devout fan of the Wakefield Wildcats.

After the game, Don and the guys were heading down to the woods to drink cheap beer and, probably, engage in sword fights and other creepy role-playing games. Actually, their combat sessions did look kind of fun, but I would never admit that, even to myself, and I definitely would not participate. Sometimes I would catch myself thinking that they should throw a thrust when they went with a parry, but my face would burn with empathic embarrassment whenever I thought of them in their costumes.

We waited for the crowd to clear before starting the walk to our cars. Dad had left the RAV4 for me to drive, riding home with Doris in her camel-colored Volvo wagon. At least you couldn't tell the RAV4 was mint green in the dark.

By the time we were walking across the student parking lot, most of the spectators were gone, so the student parking lot was quiet. We heard raised voices coming from between two parked cars near the fence, and we all slowed with interest. That is, we slowed until we realized the people exchanging heated words were Grant and Penny.

Grant was still in his uniform, the silhouette of his boxy shoulder pads against the glow of the streetlights making him seem larger than life.

Though their words were not distinguishable from where we stood, it was clear they were both angry—Penny's voice loud and shrill, Grant's tight with impatience. In silent agreement we all kept walking toward our cars, minding our own business.

We loitered in the parking lot long enough to confirm our plans to meet down at the LARPer fort for a few beers, but our purpose for loitering was mostly to see the end of Grant and Penny's fight and overhear a few snatches of the conversation.

“If that's how you want it,” Grant shouted, his words suddenly ringing clear across the entire parking lot, “then find another ride home!”

With that, he stormed off in the direction of the locker rooms and left Penny alone, her head and shoulders bent in a defeated slump.

The guys and I exchanged meaningful looks, but we were all silent, stealing only furtive glances in Penny's direction.

Grant's parting shot had been calculated. There was no other guy who was going to offer Penny a ride home, no hero willing to face Grant's wrath. A guy would have to be an idiot to offer Penny a ride home, risk someone finding out about it and word getting back to Grant.

The smart thing to do was to ignore her, turn the other way and leave.

“I'll catch up with you guys later,” I said, back-stepping toward Penny and away from sanity.

“Are you crazy?” Don asked as it dawned on him immediately what my plan was. “Luke,” Don said earnestly, “not a great idea.”

“Don't worry about it,” I said with a chin thrust, indicating he should walk on without me. “I'll catch up with you guys in a bit.”

“You're a total idiot, Luke,” Don called after me.

“An idiot-hero,” I called back over my shoulder. And then I forgot about the guys as I approached Penny. She was leaned against the car door, one hand over her face, as she sniffled and her body shook with muffled sobs. “Are you okay?” I asked quietly, using the same voice you would use for an injured puppy.

As she turned to look at me she hiccuped out a little sigh and her lower lip—that full, sumptuous lower lip—quivered in a way that made me want to put my arms around her and keep her safe.

“Oh!” she said, her mouth forming a startled O. “Hi, Luke.” She wiped at her cheeks, careful not to disturb her eye makeup. “Grant and I had a fight,” she said. “Sometimes I can't stand him.”

I know the feeling.

“Well, if you don't want to be around him right now I could … I could give you a lift home,” I said, knowing as I did that it was a mistake, but not caring much.

“That would be great,” she breathed. She followed me to the RAV4, and I unlocked and held the passenger door for her. She flashed me a coquettish smile as she smoothed her short skirt around her legs, looking at me through hooded eyes to see if I was noticing the bare skin of her thighs and calves. I was.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, Penny pointed me in the direction of her house and I turned on the stereo to cover any awkward silence between us.

“You want to drive down to the lake?” Penny asked after a minute, as she leaned forward to turn down the music. “We could just sit for a while and talk. I don't really feel like going home just yet.”

“Sure,” I said, immediately forgetting Don and my promise to catch up with him. He would understand. Bro code. The opportunity to get with a girl always trumps hanging out with a bro. I think. I hadn't had much opportunity to explore the truth of this before now. And besides, Don didn't technically qualify as a bro. Bros don't dress up like Harry Potter outside of Halloween. Maybe not even for Halloween.

I avoided the large gravel parking area near the public boat ramps and instead parked along the road that circled behind the trees bordering the water. A three-quarter moon hung in the sky, and there was very little wind so the lake was mostly still, though some small ripples captured the light of the moon and threw it back into the sky.

I kept the music on as we settled back in our seats.

“I told Grant I wanted to go someplace nice for dinner tomorrow night,” Penny said as she crossed her arms over her chest, “and all he wants to do is go park somewhere and fool around.”

On this point I sympathized with Grant Parker. Having sex with Penny in a parked car sounded pretty appealing.

“It's like he thinks that there's no other reason to be with me besides fooling around.”

“That's crazy,” I said. “I mean, I don't really know you, but I know you're beautiful, smart, and a nice person.”

Her eyes misted over as she turned in her seat to face me. “That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she said, and her voice trembled slightly with emotion.

I chuckled at that, a total clich
é
. “Yeah, right,” I said as I shifted in my seat and fixed my gaze on the windshield. My face felt hot. “I know a girl like you has guys telling her she's beautiful all the time.”

“No, really,” she said quickly, with an earnest shake of her head. “Grant never tells me I'm beautiful. If anything, he's always telling me not to eat fattening food because it will ruin my figure. Or, like when Miley Cyrus cut her hair short and I said I might do the same thing, Grant told me I would look terrible with short hair and to keep it long.” She seemed to deflate suddenly and sat back in her seat with a sigh. “And it's not like any other guy would ever tell me I was beautiful. They're all so terrified of what Grant might do to them, other guys won't even look at me.”

There wasn't really anything I could say to that. If I told her she was beautiful again after that little speech, it would just sound fake, like I was putting sloppy moves on her. We sat in the murky silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

She broke the silence first by saying, “Except for you. You're the only guy who isn't too afraid of Grant.” She was watching me out of the corner of her eye with such obvious anticipation that it almost made me snort out a laugh.

“I'm not a tough guy, Penny. I just think a girl like you”—I shrugged as I searched for the right words—“someone should treat you right. You know, you're the only person who has been really nice to me since I moved to Ashland.”

She turned to face me again, and this time she leaned in toward me as our breath started to fog the windows of the car. “I don't think tough guys make the best boyfriends. I think sweet, sensitive guys who know how to talk to a girl with respect make the best boyfriends.”

With her words and her body language, she was all but inviting me to kiss her, but I held off. Not just because of Grant Parker, though it occurred to me to worry that someone might see Penny and me together. Penny was the only person who sympathized at all with my position. I wasn't hesitant to kiss her because I was unsure of how I felt about her.

There was just something nagging in the back of my mind, and I actually found myself thinking about Delilah, thinking that if she could hear my conversation with Penny she would be rolling her eyes and judging every word that came out of my mouth.

It was right when that thought of Delilah flashed through my mind that Penny suddenly threw herself at me, pressed her lips hard against mine, and put both hands on my chest. She caught me by surprise, so I don't think the first impression she got of the kiss was a very good one.

I had to keep reminding myself to close my eyes as I kissed her. It was so incredible to me that I was actually holding Penny Olson in my arms, I kept opening my eyes just to verify it was truly her. Within a few minutes we were both panting from the exhaustion of struggling to make out with the console between us, and the seat-belt latch was digging painfully into my leg.

Suddenly there was a loud rap against the glass of my window, and I jerked back with a yelp so quickly that I cracked my knee against the steering wheel. I turned toward the sound, and all I could see was a blinding beam of light.

“Oh, shit,” Penny whispered as she sat up in her seat and smoothed her skirt against her legs.

I rolled down the window with one hand, the other held up to block the beam of light.

“Son, what are you doing?” I recognized the voice of Chief Perry even if I couldn't see his face around the flashlight beam.

“I … uh … well, this isn't what it looks like,” I said.

“Miss Penelope,” he said, ignoring my comment and turning his attention to Penny, “do your folks know where you are?”

“Hey, Chief Perry,” she said, her voice breathy and sweet, putting on the act for his benefit now. Penny's methods seemed to affect men of any age, and Chief Perry's expression softened as he looked at her instead of me. “Luke was just giving me a ride home after the game.”

“Is that right?” Chief Perry drawled. He stepped back from the car window, his shoe scraping against the gravel as he hitched his gun belt up on his hips. I fought the urge to tell him that I had not put the moves on Penny, that she had been the one to initiate our make-out session.

Right. Good strategy. Call her a whore. See where that gets me.

While I was still formulating excuses in my mind, Chief Perry said, “Son, step out of the car.”