Читать книгу The Boy Most Likely To - Huntley Fitzpatrick - Страница 16

Chapter Eleven

Today’s meeting is at the hospital, the same one Mr Garrett is at. I come late, and my AA sponsor, Dominic, scowls at me when I slouch into the chair next to him.

“Unavoidably delayed,” I mutter.

“Avoid it next time,” he mutters back.

This is how Dominic got to be my sponsor: he copped on to me fast. Almost as fast as Mr Garrett, who had the advantage of being my Cub Scout troop leader long ago. It was Mr G. who told me to go to AA, and Mr G. I went with, at first. But some days he couldn’t, was working or doing something with the kids. Those days I would still go, but I would sit – or stand – near the door. Then I’d leave early. Never when Mr Garrett was there, but when he wasn’t, every time. Earlier and earlier. After I did this four or five times, Dominic grabbed me by the side of my T-shirt as he was walking in the door, towed me over to the seat next to him, and pulled me down. We were way in the back of the room, as far from the door as could be. He’s this boxy-shouldered guy, young, huge hands, skinny but strong, deep tan skin with one of those permanent five-o’clock-shadow types. When I started to get up ten minutes before the end of the meeting, he stuck his foot out in front of mine, like he was going to trip me. “What is this, kindergarten?” I hissed out of the corner of my mouth. He mouthed, “Later.” The minute the meeting ended I said, “I didn’t know there was assigned seating at these things. You want to see my ID now? You’re an asshole.”

He stared at me, no expression. “No. No. You found me out. Don’t leave early. Asshole.”

No messing around with Dom.

Later I found out other stuff. That he was twenty-two. That he got married right out of SBH because he got his girlfriend pregnant on prom night. “In the car, on the way there,” he always adds. “I didn’t even buy her a corsage.” That his wife left and took the baby when they’d been married a year. That he spent the next six months so smashed, he still doesn’t remember if he went to work or not. That now he’s been clean for three years.

So, here we all are, at the end of the meeting, all holding hands like it really is kindergarten. A few months ago, that would have seemed lame as hell; something you do all the time when you’re little, crossing the street with your mom and all that. But after you’re, say, ten, who does it? But I actually kind of like it, here, sandwiched between Tough Guy Dominic and Mr Smooth Jake, who I formerly knew as Coach Somers, my gym teacher from Hodges. He smiles at me, which trust me, he never did when I was at Hodges on his team. He was more given, back then, to asking me to drop and give him fifty for my lousy attitude. Back then, I thought he was a bitter-ass old guy who didn’t get teenagers. He’s maybe in his late twenties.

Now, as I head out to get coffee with Dominic, Jake tosses me a salute. Feels good.

Dom and I are at Cuppa Joe and Piece-a Pie – sucky coffee, awesome pie – talking about whether he should buy this old junker truck with 100,000 miles on it – when he suddenly looks up, eyebrows raised, then smirks at me. “Some guy hates one of us. My bet’s on you. Because if looks could incinerate, you’d be a smoking pile of ashes.”

“It’s usually the girls I piss off – my money’s on you. Where is he?”

“Riiight, I forgot you were the big Casanova. Third table from the left. I’m pretty sure that one-fingered salute was all yours. He has good aim. If he had a gun –”

“No man detests me like that except my pop.” I pretend to be cracking my neck to get a glimpse of the guy.

Yeah, he looks like he hates my ass, all right. It’s Alice’s Brad.

“Need to go make amends?” Dominic asks. “I’m sure he’d be happy to accept it. If not, he only outweighs you by, maybe ninety to a hundred pounds. Might show some mercy and leave you almost dead instead of a bloody smear on the floor.”

“You seem to like imagining different ways for me to bite it, Dom. Way to be supportive.”

“What did you do, sleep with his girlfriend?”

“Uh – what? No!” My voice goes a little loud on that one. “No,” I repeat more quietly.

“You blushing?” Dominic asks, amused.

“No. So . . . tell me more about this truck thing – how does it, uh, handle?”

Dominic looks down, lips compressing to hide his smile. “Yeah, like that’s what you care about handling.” He sips his coffee. “Speaking of, what happened with the GED thing?”

Turns out that in Connecticut, you can’t apply for a GED unless you’re at least nineteen, or if you get a letter from your school saying you “withdrew.” Not precisely how it went down at Ellery.

I rub my thumb into a glob of cherry pie, lick it off. “Um, yeah. I took care of it. Not exactly sure it was . . . kosher, twelve-step-wise.”

“You didn’t forge anything, did you, Tim? Because –”

“No! I, um, relied on something I sort of maybe shouldn’t have. With the school secretary.”

Dominic cocks an eyebrow. “And that would be?”

“My charm.”

Dom snorts. “Had that one fooled too, huh? She should have talked to Smiley over there.”

Christ. Brad’s still glaring at me like I stole his favorite pacifier.

“Ms. Iszkiewicz – she always” – I hunch a little lower in my seat – “thought I was cute or something. She said she’d type up a letter and get the headmaster to sign off on it. Dobson never paid attention to shit he was signing unless it was a donation check.”

“Tim,” Dominic says. “C’mon.”

“Did I cross the line?”

Dom takes another sip of coffee. “What do you think?”

“But if I don’t lie, how can I get what I need?”

“Did you just hear yourself ?” He relaxes back in his chair, watching my face.

I curse.

“I know,” Dom says. “But part of this whole thing is not being a manipulative bastard anymore, remember?”

Brad’s leaving. As he walks by our table, he accidentally on purpose bangs into the back of my chair with his giant thigh.

What, no wedgie? What the hell does Alice get from this douchewit?