Period 8 (12 page)

Justin frowns. “How'd you find out
that
?”

“Never mind.”

“Naw, man, you confide
some
of this shit, you got to confide it
all.”

Paulie feeds him as he breaks to the hoop again. Justin stops, whirls, and buries a short jumper.

“More like it,” Paulie says.

“Spill it.”

“Okay, man, but if I confide it, it's exactly that: confidential.”

“I ever rat you out?”

“You've never had anything to rat.”

“Man, you are
killing
me.”

Paulie stops, holds the ball under his arm. “Nah, man, you know I'd trust you with anything.”

“Show me some proof.”

Paulie closes his eyes, shakes his head and lets out big air. “Mary is who I cheated on Hannah with. Bro, you can't tell
anyone.”
He passes Justin the ball.

Justin spikes it with both hands and sits on it. “You did the Virgin Mary?”

Paulie sits down beside him, lays back on the floor, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sunlight pouring through a high window. “No, I didn't
do
the Virgin Mary. I . . . it's a long story.”

“Like to have
that
on my resume,” Justin says. “How'd you pull it off?”

“It wasn't my idea.”

Justin smiles. “I
thought
there was more to that girl.”

“Whatever you thought, you didn't get it right,” Paulie says. “Look, after it happened, she didn't want anyone to know. You know I didn't tell because you would have been the first. But Hannah comes up to me in The Rocket and says she knows who it was. And she gets it right. Far as I know, two people knew: Mary and me. I sure as
hell
didn't tell Hannah and she says she didn't hear it from a
she
. Who's Hannah been hanging with? Stack. I take my life in my hands and go over to Mary's place, almost lost a body part getting past her old man, but I gotta be sure. I mean, I
believed
Hannah 'cause, well, I believe Hannah, but I wanted two good sources. Mary says no way she told Hannah. But she says she didn't tell Arney, either.
Somehow,
Arney knows. He couldn't just have guessed. I mean, how many guesses would you make before you picked Mary Wells?”

“All of 'em,” Justin says. “This is some
intrigue.
” He stands, twirling the ball on his index finger. It spins off and lands on Paulie's gut.

“No shit.” Paulie grunts, sitting up with the ball between his legs. “Arney's involved in this some way I don't get.”

“Involved in what? You have a conspiracy theory?”

“Maybe. Shit, I don't know.”

“Man, you should finish out the year at the alternative school. Stay away from all this shit.”

“No kidding. And then there's Mary's dad. Man, he is a whole other thing. Either she stays five moves ahead of him or . . . I don't know what. That girl is under siege. You ever do soft eyes, Jus?”

A rapid shake of the head. “What's that?”

“You know, when you're looking too hard at some problem—like even in calc—you just let everything go unfocused and things that are supposed to go together, do?”

Justin shakes his head again. “I go hard eyes in calc,” he says. “Best way to see Marley's answers.”

Paulie knows he's kidding. Justin Chenier would cheat at
nothing,
particularly in calc, where all eyes would be on
his
paper.

“When I go soft eyes on all this,” Paulie says, “Mary's old man comes floating right to the center. But so does Stack.”

Justin squints. “So this Virgin Mary thing, you
involved
?”

Paulie looks away. “Not really, at least not in the way you're talking about. I didn't have sex with Mary Wells because I wanted to. . . .”

“You didn't have sex with her because you
didn't
want to.”

“It's a long story, Jus, and way over your head.”

“Best you hit the water with the Log man tomorrow. This is the kind of shit you take to a
pro.”

.12

“H
ey, asshole, we need to talk.”

Paulie walks toward his car following last period. It's Friday afternoon and he's looking forward to a hard swim. He turns to face Arney. “So talk.”

“What was that bullshit on the court the other night?” Arney says.

“I told you before,” Paulie says back, “don't bring that weak shit into the paint on me.”

“You could have just wrapped me up.”

“You got around me. I wasn't going to give you a cheap one.”

“It's rat ball, for chrissake,” Arney says. “And I'll tell you what, buddy, it felt personal.”

Paulie leans against the Beetle. “You're right, Arney. It was personal. It was about you and Hannah and all the bullshit you've been throwing . . . like since the third grade.”

“You said—”

“I know what I said, and it's too late to un-say it. But I never would have done that to you. Wouldn't have even asked. I wouldn't have done it to Hannah, either. I've got too much chivalry to take
her
out on the court, so you got the lucky draw, okay? Besides, she's tougher than you, so it was less risky.”

Arney looks down. “You're right, man. I'm sorry. I'll stop—”

“Fuck that,” Paulie says. “That genie doesn't fit back into the bottle. She looks different to me than she did a week ago anyway. I'll just stay away from you guys.”

“Listen . . .”

“Listen, my ass. I've figured you out, Stack. You try shit 'til something works. You asked me about you and Hannah and I said ‘go ahead' when I meant ‘what the fuck' because I figured I screwed Hannah over and I don't deserve a break. But see, you know that about me, Arney. You knew what I'd say. You also knew what a kick in the gut it would be. So when I finally man up and say the truth, you act surprised. Fuckin' Alfred E. Stack. What, me an asshole?”

“It wasn't my idea,” Arney says. “Hannah was the one—”

“You're doin' it now, you dick. Hannah's tough, but she's not mean, and she knows she could crush me a lot of ways without going after one of my so-called
friends
. I know you've said some shit to her you wouldn't say to me. She's hanging out with you and there may be some good feeling of revenge to it, but she didn't invent this. You're lucky she and I aren't talking because she'd figure you out pretty quick and this shit would be over.”

Arney's hands go up. “Look, man, I'm just trying to find a way to preserve our friendship. We've known each other since we were kids. We can't let some chick—”

“Hannah Murphy's not ‘some chick.'”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean. Tell you what, go home and write down all the shit you've told me in the last few weeks that I might
know
is a lie. I don't know it all yet, but it's getting clearer every day.”

Arney swells up, and his expression turns to stone. “Have it your way,
buddy
. Maybe this is the day we cut bait. You want to think twice before calling me a liar.”

That's the Arney I was looking for.
“I'm way past thinking twice.”

Arney takes a step forward. He's not as tall as Paulie and certainly not in as good shape, but he spends hours in the weight room and he could make it interesting.

Paulie doesn't budge. “You know the one comfort I've always had with our ‘friendship'?”

“Enlighten me.”

“That if it ever comes down to it, I'll just kick your ass. Go for it.”

Arney holds his gaze a long moment and Paulie thinks,
This is gonna feel good,
but Arney deflates, then turns for his car. He stops and turns back. “Tell you something else,
buddy
. If I
am
lying, you want to be real careful of what I'm lying
about
. You could be bringing a real shit storm down on a lot of people.” He gets into his driver's seat and slams the door.

 

“Hey, Logs,” Paulie says as he and Logs unload their gear. “Remember the other day in P-8 when you started to tell us how your whole perspective changed in the late sixties?”

“I remember.”

“Somebody interrupted you. You never finished.”

The sky is gray, the temperature chilly as they pull on their wetsuits.“December '68,” Logs says. “First moonshot; the one before we actually landed. Apollo Eight, I think. Practice run to see if we could get them up and back.”

“Sixty-eight. Long time ago.”

“In a land far away,” Logs says. “We'd never seen Earth from a distance. We had drawings, maps, all that, but no one had actually seen us from out there. Those guys were watching
Earth rise.
Or set, I don't know which. It was bigger than the imagination of the entire species.

“I remember thinking,
that's a God's-eye view.
God doesn't see the shit that's going on, He just sees this thing He gave us to live on, and it's beautiful from that far out. He wouldn't even know how badly we messed it up until it was too late; until it turned brown.”

It's hard to imagine. Paulie has seen deep space pictures all his life.

“It was something. I mean, now we have the Hubble so we not only see great distances, but back in time. But that first look . . . why you asking?”

“Aw, you know, just like to see an old guy go back.”

“Don't mess with me, grasshopper. They'll find you at the bottom of the lake.”

“I like that perspective,” Paulie says. “You look at someone and you see the crust, just what the light hits. Kinda the same thing.”

“What's driving this?”

“I went over to the Wellses place the other day.”

“Whoa.”

“No shit, whoa,” Paulie says. “Man, Mr. Logs, old man Wells has her vigilant as a prairie dog in a pack of coyotes. You look at him, you don't see it. Watch her
around
him though, and there's no doubt. She could be telling you who really killed President Kennedy and from two feet away look like she's asking about the weather. Always gauging what might set him off. Mary Wells is not who we see.”

Logs is almost into his wetsuit. “Tell me that you are not exploring this romantically.”

Paulie pulls up his back zipper, reaches into the Beetle for his goggles. He stops. “Logs, is there any way for men and women, or boys and girls, to do
anything
that doesn't turn sexual?”

“I suppose,” Logs says, “if a man and a woman drive into an intersection, both talking to their sweethearts on cell phones, paying
no
attention to where they're going, and crash into each other, that possibly isn't sexual. If either one gets out of their car, it's sexual.”

“Got it.”

“So, about Mary.”

“I'm not getting out of the car.” Paulie smiles.

“Do you know the term
rebound
, as it's
not
applied in the game of basketball?”

“Yessir, I do.”

“And do you remember saying that whole encounter with her was
strange
?”

“I have almost total recall, Sensei.”

Logs says, “Prove it.”

“Relax. It isn't like that.”

“You do
not
want Victor Wells catching you with her,” Logs says.

“I know that, believe me.” Paulie stops a second. “You don't think there's something going on between
him
and her
.
”

“You mean something inappropriate.”

“Hell,” Paulie says, “what's happened in the last three weeks that's appropriate? I mean, like, sexual.”

“I do not think about things like that if I can help it,” Logs says. “It's easy to get suspicious but real dangerous to project. I've learned to respond only to hard evidence, and there isn't any, Paulie, unless you know something you're not telling me.”

“I don't, but I have cable. He treats her like
property,
man. Look, you've been teaching forty-plus years, so you probably see
all
this from the moon, right? I mean, I get that you'd have to say to me or anyone else that you don't
think
something, but your experience
has to
make you consider a lot of things.”

“Let me just say this. I have no idea what goes on in the Wells household. What I do know is if you're going to accuse someone like Victor Wells of
jaywalking
, you're already at a disadvantage. A guy with a house like his has at least three lawyers with houses just as big. So, if you want to hang out with Mary Wells, you do it like a recent graduate of etiquette school. You don't honk when you pick her up, you act the perfect gentleman and you keep her out of trouble with him. If something happens that makes you suspicious, I'll be here.”

“Thanks,” Paulie says. “You want to be real careful around her dad. At least
I
do. And I am
not
getting physical.”

Logs rolls his eyes. “I don't know why you don't stay far away, my friend. You're going to do what you do, but just know, control freaks
always
make me nervous. I don't think he's
dangerous,
but as long as he has a grip on her, he can sure make her life miserable, and yours by association.” Logs walks to the end of the dock, then turns around. “You know, Paulie, every time you see somebody wounded or in some kind of trouble, you think you have to do something about it. I've always admired that about you. But sometimes there's nothing you can do, and sometimes you can make it worse. Just a thought.” He pulls his goggles down. “Now let's get wet.”

 

Paulie stands on the porch of the Wells mansion, hair still wet, once again face-to-face with Victor Wells. “Is Mary home?”

Wells takes a deep breath. “Is she expecting you?”

“I would guess not,” Paulie says.

“More of your
project
?” His tone tells Paulie he didn't buy the story last time, or he's discovered some hole in it. Or he has Mary chained down in the basement after burning the truth out of her with lighted cigarettes.

“No, sir,” Paulie says. “This is more . . . social.”

Wells stiffens. “That's not something we're doing these days.”

Paulie smiles. “I wasn't thinking of going anywhere with
you
. Mary.”

Wells stares.

“That was a joke.”

“Son, you seem like an okay kid, as kids go. But you are barking up the wrong tree if you're thinking about starting something with my daughter. She's had some problems, as I'm sure you're aware, and we're focusing on straightening things out and getting on with life, which means college and
preparation
for college. That's a full plate right now.”

Paulie takes a deep breath; he's rehearsed this. “Look, sir, with all due respect, I'm not trying to start something. I was thinking of, like, ice cream or coffee.”

“I don't think you understand.”

“Mr. Wells, do you know you're famous?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're famous.”

“Probably I am,” Wells says with a grimace. “I certainly made a splash the past couple of weeks in the media, jumping the gun on Mary's ‘disappearance.'” He looks to the side.

“That's not why you're famous.”

Wells' irritation is evident. “Okay, then why am I famous?”

“You're like a
legend
,” Paulie says, “and not in a good way. I mean, you wanna know how kids talk about somebody who's
always
in control? You're, like, a teenager's idea of a monster.”

Paulie notices the muscle at the top of Wells's jaw turn into a small marble.

“Did you come here just to flatter me?” Wells says.

“I came with an offer,” Paulie says. “Look, I'm an almost-eighteen-year-old kid who doesn't drink or smoke or take drugs. I have a B average, give or take a minus or two, and I am headed to the U next year. My grade average indicates I'm something of an underachiever, but I test well. I just got dumped by a girl I was on my a— I was over the top for and I'm not about to get into more mess. I have a father who plays around and that hacks me off, and a mother who allows it, which hacks me off even more. I take care of my body and I tell the truth whenever I can. I'm totally aware that if I spend any time with your daughter, you'll check all that out and if I'm lying, you'll know it before I come around again.”

“You tell the truth whenever you can?”

“Yeah, like with important things. Like, I wouldn't tell you how dorky it looks to wear dark nylon socks with those shorts.” He nods toward Wells's feet.

Wells follows Paulie's gaze and for the first time in the conversation, smiles.

“So your daughter would be relatively safe and you'd buy some good will with kids at school, which probably doesn't matter to you one way or the other.”

“Relatively safe.”

“We're teenagers, Mr. Wells. We live in risky times.”

Wells stares at Paulie. “You are one ballsy young man.”

“You almost have to be these days,” Paulie says.

Wells turns and the door closes. Paulie shuts his eyes as he hears him call to his daughter. “Mary, you have a visitor.”

Paulie touches the soaked shirt under his arm.

 

“You called my father a dork?” Mary is amazed; just a little too scared to think it's funny, but close.

“Technically I didn't call him that. I said the socks were dorky. He may have extrapolated from that.” Paulie is smiling, feeling triumphant. “He got even, though,” Paulie says.

“How?”

“He gave me one of those looks.”