The Hurt Patrol (5 page)

Pete bounced and bounced, on the balls of his feet, goofing, pretending he was on a diving board till some of the other guys started to swim out to push him in. Then he backed up and ran; he jumped high in the air and exploded into the water, cannonballing—then, pandemonium, as everyone ran in, shattering the water, splashing, paddling, laughing, staying in till way past waterlogged.

It was a great day. It was a first. It whispered to Beau there was another way to live: all happy and unpunched, with actual friends. Even with the secret keg shenanigans, no one had got too turnt. And they had all played safe—no driving.

In the early evening, when everyone was baked, basking in the setting sun, Pete came over as Beau was lying on his back on the grass, eavesdropping, in a companionable way on the various nearby conversations. Pete flopped down beside him.

“I
am
going to go talk to her,” Pete vowed with resolve, his eyes on the blushing clouds above. Then he turned on his stomach and stared at the small girl some distance away with her friends. Beau was not entirely sure he needed to reply. Then Pete looked over and spoke directly to him.

“Oh, yeah, by the way—Jewels said to say ‘hi.' ” He gouged Beau in the ribs with his elbow, affectionately. Beau grunted and grinned and stretched in the lush lawn where he was resting. He rolled over on his stomach and ran his hands through the cool turf. He plucked a blade of grass.

“Where is she, again?” He'd been hoping she would make it.

“Babysitting. She was going to call if she got off in time. She earns bank from this lady, though. She says she wants to ask you to Sadie Hawkins. But you didn't hear it from me.”

Beau blew into the blade and produced a high squeak. It was the only comment he could think of.

Pete's eyes returned to the small girl. Beau followed his gaze.

“You haven't even told me her name yet,” Beau remarked.

Pete looked over at him.

“Her name is Bonnie.” The way he said it
sang
.

“Bonnie?”

“Yeah. It means
pretty
and
beautiful,
in Scottish.”

“Yeah . . . I knew that.”

“So, that fits.”

“Yeah . . .”

“So, I'm going to go talk to her.”

“So you
say
.”

“I am . . .” Pete made no move.

“I heard you.” Beau smiled sweetly.

“Kiss my ass.”

Beau smirked. He made a kissy smooch sound with the grass blade. Pete laughed and got up. He set off in her general direction.

“What does ‘Pete' mean in Scottish?” Beau called after him. Pete rewarded him by flipping him off behind his back so that Bonnie and her friends couldn't see, but Beau could. It made Beau yelp with amusement.

He watched with great interest as Pete approached the table. The girls were sitting on the top of the picnic table, redoing makeup and combing their hair. Pete came up and sat on the edge of the table and started combing his hair, too, like he had a long mane to fling around. The girls dissolved into raucous cackles. They started combing his hair, and then they decided that he would be much better looking with just a
little
makeup. . . .

Twenty minutes later, he had super-freak smeared all over him, and in a half hour he was posted on everything, as the “Hawtest Gurl at Garfield.” Beau thought he would actually pee from laughing. So did everyone else. Pete made an excellent drag queen. He didn't get all screechy like most straight guys do when they have on makeup and are pretending to be hotties; he got really intense and was all worried about his butt. Pete had invented somebody he called Kim Kardasherass, and he was
killing
. The others fell apart. Temperamentally, he turned around and was all like, “what's so funny?” He stormed off with his booty twerking along like a pantomime horse. After ROFL-ing literally, for the first time, Beau lay on his back on the lawn, getting his breath. He looked over and saw Pete talking to Bonnie, both in full makeup. Beau snorted again and gazed up into the gold and pinking sky.

Such a great day . . .

Throughout the autumn of their freshman year, Beau and Jewels were project partners. Thus Beau spent a lot of time at her house, and he learned a lot of things. For example, he learned his mom and dad were considered big-city people, eccentric, and a little stuck-up. Also, they hadn't chosen any church to attend, in all the time they had been in town. Because Beau's mom
said
she was still looking, but whatever. That's what Jewels reported the girls at school said, and that they were all a little scandalized, as were their families.

Beau didn't see the big deal. In his opinion, people act the same, with or without church. Church ladies were nice; his mom was nice, and his dad was likewise, till he drank too much. Then he
wasn't
nice—and Beau doubted he would be, regardless of his church choices. And together his dad and mom were just bad. They were
so
bad together. But things were changing there too.

A while back Gina had tried to get Jason to check his drinking and though it was getting worse, he had flatly refused. So now she had a different plan. They would
all
go to therapy. She wanted them to see a family counselor, but Jason still wasn't keen. He freaked out that it was too expensive and there was no problem; all they had to do was just be nicer. So over the phone the counselor suggested that Gina should come by herself. That made Jason beam triumphantly, like now it was
obvious
who was responsible for the fights. He said go.

So Gina did go by herself. A few times. But then Jason wanted her to quit. Gina had wanted to keep going, but the cost of the appointments started fights, so she quit. But then she bought some books. When Beau looked to discover what had come in the mail, he found they were self-help manuals:
Improve Your Marriage,
etc. At the time she didn't read them, just put them in her bookcase.

Till about two months later when Beau noticed she had them out every time he came home, reading and writing in them. When he mentioned it, and asked what was up, she said it was just nice to know that other people were trying to figure out ways to be happier. She said she liked to know she had company. And then she started to act a little differently.

Beau began noticing it was quieter. His mom didn't fight with his dad like she used to. When his dad would start getting mad about something, she'd agree to think about it, then if he kept blustering, she'd bounce and take a walk. She started online courses in interior design. She bought a staple gun and sewing machine. She changed the back bedroom into a sewing room/office. She kept the spare bed.

It made Beau uneasy. He could hear her typing really fast in there, sometimes, with the door closed . . . but her forehead was smoother than it had been in years. She smiled with her eyes again.

Finally, after what turned out to be a sort of strange last fight invoking the Middle Ages and poodles, as well as other randomness, Jason grabbed his stuff and bailed, and after his dad drove off, Beau and his mom sat and watched the moon rise. She said she was done.

Beau gets quiet. I glance over at him as he stares stonily out the car window. He sighs and looks over at me then and seems almost embarrassed.

I turn my eyes to the road. “Keep telling me. Then I'll tell you my stuff later.” I continue navigating.

The Last Fight. It started over him. Because it always started over him. . . .

Whereas she used to freak out about everything, now Gina would get almost pensive, like she was recalling the appropriate response to pass an exam, “I am going to do things differently now. I don't want to always fight and never resolve.” Gina sounded like she was flatly quoting, which, in fact, she was.

Not Jason: “Whatever the hell
that
means! You sound like a zombie! Plus you're ganging up on me on account of that shrink that you wanted to go pay to bitch about me all the time.”

“He wanted to talk to you too. I wish you would, Jason. I wish we'd all go. It's a good idea. It helped me figure things out.”

“No! They'll blame it all on me. I get enough of
that
around here—for free!”

“There is no ‘they,' Jason. It's a good thing to just go talk . . . it's a relief!”

“
No
.”

So the bad, weird last fight: Beau's mom was in the kitchen, rustling up dinner. Beau was sitting on the couch with a new video game he was playing, but he could hear the new indistinct rumbling that had replaced the old-time habitual yelling. The whispering was weirdly
not
reassuring, though. And he could hear them saying his name.

Then Jason came and plopped down beside Beau on the couch. Beau glanced over as he heard the sinister rattle . . . ice cubes. He could see out of the corner of his eye his dad was extremely pissed.

Jason looked over. “Whatcha doing?”

“Vids.” Beau felt nervous.

“Duh. Are you winning?”

“Nah. You never win.” Beau smiled at his dad, who was
so
mad. It didn't help.

“Yes, you do. That's just some more garbage your mom feeds you.”

Beau didn't answer. He knew when he was being dogged. He continued his cyber sniping.

His dad continued his real-life sniping. “Yep. She just tells you what to do, and you just do it. Like a poodle! You a poodle, Beau? You your ma's poodle?”

“No.” Beau kept his eyes on the screen.

“Ya sure? You look like one. You got poodle hair.” Jason smacked Beau on the head, a glancing swat that was not unaffectionate. “Poodle.” Beau's hair was long and wavy.

Beau didn't bite, just shrugged and dodged his head away and kept playing. “No, I don't.”

“Yeah, you do, Poodle Boy.” Jason sat and watched Beau, taking his time . . . then vindictively, he fired his largest caliber bullet, right at Beau's heart:

“Hey, by the way, you know your mom has a boyfriend now, don't you?”

And with those words, Beau's world crashed. He looked at his dad, aghast.

Jason saw he'd struck pay dirt. “No?! Well, she does! I didn't know if she told you that. Yep, her old buddy, Matt.”

“Nuh-
uh
,” Beau whispered, staring at his dad, his game forgotten.

“Yuh-
huh!
” Jason bugled gleefully. “She talks to him all the time on Facebook.”

Beau decided the best course was ignoring his dad till he could check this out with his mom. But his dad was too mad for that. Still glaring at Beau, Jason raised his voice.

“Right, honey?! Isn't that right? Don't you have a
boyfriend
these days? Tell our son about him.”