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kid accidentally dozing in Algebra. The water was murky, but I
could just make out the legs slipping into the darkness. When it
was gone, I could see the two of us reflected in the water s surface,
eager, and a little in awe.  The water makes us look squiggly,
I said.
Derek slapped my neck.  Stop saying shit like that, he said.
By August, my father and Janna had moved into a town house
a few miles from the high school where my father s faculty year-
book photo showed his lips drawn into an implied smile, another
28 The Pi nes
doomed beard finding strange purchase along the boyish slope of
his jaw. This year s caption was  Anybody got a paintbrush?!
 Anybody got a paintbrush?! Janna said.  Don t you think
they could have come up with something better? The four of us
were unloading boxes of books in the middle of the curtainless
living room. Ally and I had been distracted by a box of my father s
old Bobbsey Twins books. On the flyleaf of each, my father s first
attempts at self-portraits, an almond-eyed boy with grim lips and
cropped hair.
 Oh, I don t pay any attention to those, my father said.
Janna tossed the yearbook aside.  Well, maybe you should, she
said.  Maybe someone should take these kids aside and tell them
they re not as clever as they think they are. I know I d like to.
My father shrugged.  Not sure what good that d do, he said.
Beneath each portrait my father had included his name, address,
and phone number, a habit that endured in all my school draw-
ings. I liked the idea of someone finding them later on, wonder-
ing if they should call.
 God, I used to think I was everything, Janna said.
That night Janna tucked me in in my new room. My father
had hung a sheet across the window, blocking out the streetlight
that made clicking noises I d thought were fingernails tapping the
windowpane. It was the first time I d ever been alone in a bed-
room with Janna.  Sometimes I get freaked out by the street-
light, I said. She sat next to me, her hair still wet from a before-
bed shower.  I wake up and think it s someone outside. Janna
put a hand to my head and gently rubbed my hair.
 Sometimes everything seems freaky, she said.
Janna s body gave off a whiff of lavender and citrus. I balled
my fists beneath the pillow and felt tears in my eyes.  Janna, I
whispered.
 Hmm?
 I heard those boys, I said.  The boys who died.
 You did?
 I m pretty sure. I mean, I heard something. I paused.  I ve
never told anyone before.
 That s okay, Janna said, but I couldn t tell what was supposed
to be okay. The thing was, I wasn t really sure I d heard the ac-
The Pi nes 29
cident. I remembered putting Ally to bed, closing her door. I
remembered turning on the hall lights and the lights outside. I
heard a noise. A sound like a shopping cart slipping into another.
I opened the front door and listened. I heard insects, a dog bark-
ing. A truck gearing down. I closed the door.  I think about it
sometimes, I said.
 I ll bet, Janna said.
The next morning I found Ally in the bathroom, crying.  I
don t know how to make it go, she said. She had the bathwater
running, unable to figure out the shower.  You just press the
brass button in, I said.
 You do it! she cried.  I don t get it!
 Ally, I said,  it s a shower like any other shower, and a but-
ton like any other button. Just press it, and the shower will turn
on. I closed the door and listened to her sobbing. A moment later
I heard the shower kick in. When I walked away I could hear Ally
singing  Deck the Halls in a voice I d never noticed was lovely
before.
 He s on to me, Derek said. We were picking lures from
Derek s tackle box.  He s sick of everything I ve got.
 This one s nice, I said, selecting a plastic minnow with two
chandelier hooks hanging form each end.  I like the hooks.
 Saltwater lure, Derek said.
It was the end of August and I d grown tired of the quest for
Tank. Some days Derek would reel in a catfish and I would feel a
flicker of excitement at long last, the end but these, accord-
ing to Derek, were Tank s  bitches, and he d toss them back.
Other days Derek would catch sunfish, whose sharp dorsal fins
always pricked him when he dislodged the hook, and throw them
into the campfire I was allowed to stoke with dead branches and
leaves.  Serves you right, Derek would say.  Burn in hell.
Derek found a lure, then ordered me to go get soda. When I
returned, he cracked open a Mr. Pibb, then spat it out.  Jesus.
This soda s piss-warm. He threw the can into the weeds.  Tastes
like canned shit. I told him they must have just restocked the
machine. Derek turned on me.  Don t you think I know that?
30 The Pi nes
he said.  You think you re smarter than me now? Some kind of
soda expert?
 No, I said.
 Mr. Pibb himself?
 You shouldn t litter like that.
Derek grabbed me by my T-shirt and swung me to the ground.
 You re a goddamned baby, he said. He kicked me in the side.
 Now see if you can get us some cold sodas, Mr. Pibb.
I lingered in the girls bathroom. I locked the door and ran my
hands under the sink. In the mirror, my eyes looked raw, red.
I wiped my hands on my shorts and decided I would spend the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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