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Doing It All Over CHAPTER 4 OF 17

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2004-03-16

As I’d vowed after Richie Fairview put his buckknife into my side, I was careful what I did. I went to school each day but I did not torment any more bullies. Of course if they had decided to come looking for trouble with me I would have returned it to them in spades but none of them did. My encounters with Richie forever sealed my reputation as someone that you did not fuck with. The bullies had much easier targets than I to occupy their time.

I tormented no more teachers as I had my history and A&P instructors. I replied politely to their questions when I was asked with whatever answer they were looking for. I brought up no controversial subjects to them. I did my homework each day the moment I got home from school (except on those days that Anita had something for me to do; something that began to happen with increasing frequency). As the school year wound on and as winter became spring my grades improved greatly all across the board, dramatically some would even say, unbelievably a few uneasy teachers even noted. By the time the school year ended my grades were straight A’s and my overall average had moved up considerably.

I similarly took no further chances with my skin. As a paramedic I used to shake my head sadly at how stupid teenagers were, assuming their own immortality. After Richie I realized that I’d been even worse than they were. At least normal teenagers will acknowledge the possibility that they CAN die, even if they think it won’t happen to them. But I had assumed that I COULDN’T die, that I was safe until thirty-two.

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   That, despite eight years of scraping up the broken remains of idiotic teenagers off the streets of Spokane. I still shudder when I think of how easily I’d climbed into the car with Mike that night of the kegger, of how easily he might have drunkenly driven over the edge of the levee, dumping us both into the Spokane River. How ironic that would have been, for me to come back and save Tracy from that fate only to suffer it myself, to put my parents through the same grief with a different child.

I avoided riding in cars with teenagers when I could. When I couldn’t, I snapped on my seatbelt and pulled it tight. Most of the time it was the first time the seatbelt in question had ever been fastened. I could tell that the driver’s and other passengers of these vehicles wanted to deride me, call me a pussy, and apply the other forms of peer pressure that teens use for their bizarre purposes. But they never did. Again, Richie Fairview kept them from speaking their minds. Occasionally someone would ask however, why I was doing it.

“Well suppose we crash?” I’d ask.

“We ain’t gonna crash. ” Was the inevitable reply.

“Probably not. ” I’d say.

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   “But it’s possible, isn’t it?”

“I guess. ” They’d shrug.

“Well,” I’d theorize. “If we DO get into an accident, I won’t get hurt as bad if I have this seatbelt on. It doesn’t inconvenience me in any way to have it on. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t restrict my movement, so why shouldn’t I have it on?” They usually had no answer for that and would let the subject drop there. But they never put on their own seatbelts in response. They didn’t want to be called a pussy when I’d gone.


One thing I absolutely refused to do was to get into a vehicle with someone who’d been drinking and/or getting stoned. And since I didn’t enjoy walking home from places like the falls, I just avoided going with anyone where that was a possibility.

This policy led to problems between Mike and I, and we already had more than our share of problems. Our relationship had changed since my return and Mike didn’t care too much for it. I was no longer his trusty sidekick, willing to go along with everything that he wanted to do. I no longer smoked pot with him on the way to school because I wanted my head clear for classes. He tried every form of peer pressure he could think of to get me to change my mind but when I continually refused he blew up at me one day and stormed off.

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   He didn’t speak to me or walk to school with me for three days and surprisingly, though it had been a childish outburst over a ridiculous subject, I was very upset by the episode.


I cared for Mike and I desperately wanted to pull him off of the path he was on. My conviction to do this became even stronger after the Richie Fairview incident. He had jumped in, without the slightest hesitation and grabbed hold of the hulking asshole, pulling him off of me. He had done that despite the fact that he’d been terrified of Fairview and that Fairview was holding a knife at the time. He had cast aside his self-protection instinct to come to my assistance and I could not forget that. Maybe if he hadn’t done that, maybe if he’d simply stood there during the attack unable to move, I could have simply let the friendship die and let him go about his life. But he hadn’t. He’d jumped in there without a second thought. Goddamit I owed him something. I had to try!


As was his nature, he offered me no apology for his outburst. He simply showed up at my door for the walk to school the following Monday and acted as if nothing had happened. He pulled out a joint as we went along but did not offer any to me. I suppose that was as close to saying sorry as he could come.


So I continued to walk to school with him each day even though I didn’t really have to.

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   Cindy, who had her own car and who took Tracy to school each day, had offered to give me a ride if I wanted. Her invitation did not include Mike, who she couldn’t stand, and so I declined it.

After school I would go over to Mike’s sometimes or he would come over to my house and then, if I’d finished my homework, I would smoke some pot with him. I learned to drop myself down to the level of a sixteen-year-old during these times and even managed to have a good time. I did not, however, go out on weekends with him anymore, always pleading other plans, which was usually true. I’d found some interesting ways to spend my weekends that did not involve putting my life at risk with intoxicated drivers. Anita figured heavily in these plans most of the time. So did Cindy. Mike always seemed upset that I wouldn’t go out with him on the weekends but didn’t make a big deal of it. A status quo developed in our relationship, one that was due to break before long.


In April of that year Mike’s Dad, a mechanic, fixed up a two hundred dollar Volkswagen Bug and gave it to Mike to drive full-time. I remembered the car well. It was a 68, the heater didn’t work, the upholstery was ripped and shredded, and the engine would constantly require attention from his Dad. Mike and I had had some good times in that car during my first trip through.


We would go to keggers, to parties, just out cruising.

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   We would use the car to cut school with, driving to the river to go fishing.


Though I had no plans to do most of the stuff we USED to do in the car, I figured that simply driving a few miles to school would be safe enough. I was wrong. Mike’s driving in that Bug used to scare me even before being recycled. It absolutely terrified me afterwards. It only took me one trip with him to realize that I was never going to set foot in it again. He picked me up for school the first day he had it and as soon as we were out of sight of my house, he pulled out a joint and lit it up.

“You sure you should be doing that while you’re driving?” I asked nervously.

“Doing what?” He replied with genuine confusion.

I pulled my seatbelt tighter and braced myself.


In the course of the short drive to school he weaved recklessly in and out of the morning traffic. He rode up on the rear of vehicles when he had no room to weave, getting so close to them that, had they stopped, he would not have had time to even apply his brakes, let alone stop in time. He ran through one red light and three stop signs, giving only a careless glance as he did so. He smoked on his joint the entire time. By the time we pulled into the school parking lot I was trembling with fear.

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“You okay dude?” He asked, looking at me with his stoned expression.

“Yeah. ” I said, feeling like I should kiss the ground.

“Hey,” He said, “How about we cut out after my lunch? We now have freedom. ”

“Uh. . . no. ” I said, shaking my head. “I got a test today in English. ”


He gave me a sour expression, one that I was getting used to from him. “All right. ” He said indignantly. “But you might have to walk home. I’m not gonna stay here all day just because you wanna go to your classes.

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“That’s cool. ” I told him levelly. “I can get a ride home from Cindy and Tracy. ”

“Oh. ” He said weakly. “Whatever. ” He went storming off.

I sighed, watching him go. I could not, would not get in that car with him again. So what was I going to do now?

As he’d promised, Mike and his car were long gone when school ended that day. I found Tracy and Cindy without much searching and they gave me a ride. Cindy elected to stay for a while once we got home. She asked me if I’d acquired any new albums since her last visit.

Since our first encounter I’d screwed Cindy ten or so times, always to our mutual satisfaction. We were never publicly seen together and both of us knew the rules of the relationship.

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   It was a sexual relationship only. Our euphemism for it was ‘looking at albums’ in honor of our first time.

Even though I’d purchased nothing new since my return, I told Cindy I had bought something the other day.

“Well let’s go take a look at it. ” She smiled, standing up.

“Sure. ” I smiled back, following her.

Tracy watched us go, shaking her head and grinning.

Cindy and Tracy drove off to the mall later that day. After they were gone I picked up the phone and gave Mike a call. I wanted to get together with him and have a talk, to try to get him to see my point of view a little. I had a speech all set up in my mind. “What’s up?” He asked bluntly when he came to the phone. I could already hear hostility in his tone.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a little bit?” I asked.

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   “Or maybe I could come over to your place. ”

“I got things to do. ” He said. “Did you get a ride home today?”

“Yeah. ” I answered. “Cindy gave me. . . ”

“Cool. ” He interrupted. “Do you want a ride tomorrow, or is she going to take you then too?”

“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to. . . . ”

“You want a ride or not dude?” He demanded, an unmistakable ultimatum in his tone.

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   “It don’t matter to me. ”

“No,” I said. “Cindy’ll give me a ride. But. . . ”

“Whatever. ” He said. A second later the phone clicked in my ear. I debated calling him back but didn’t. I knew it would do no good. Though I still maintained some hope for Mike, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d failed. The school year continued to roll on. I caught rides in the morning and in the afternoon with Cindy and Tracy in Cindy’s Chevy Caprice that her Daddy had bought for her when she’d got her driver’s license. Two or three times a week Cindy would develop a burning desire to go check out some of my albums.

 

   I never turned down the opportunity to show them to her.


Mike kept his distance from me. He didn’t call me anymore, he didn’t come over. Before two weeks went by I would see him driving around a couple of freshmen in his Bug; kids he’d always made fun of before. Whenever I saw him he wouldn’t even wave at me, wouldn’t acknowledge my presence in any way. I would feel sadness whenever I saw him.


I began making a habit of eating lunch with Nina Blackmore through that year. It was less than a week before I stopped doing it out of simple pity or simple repentance for past sins or for simple attempts to change the future personality of a future bitch. I began eating lunch with her because I really enjoyed talking to her. I began to look forward to lunch each day so we could have another stimulating conversation on literature, life views, or some other topic. She was intelligent and pleasant once you broke through the years of torment she’d endured. I guess Life has a way of forcing certain people to grow up faster than nature intended. The way her eyes lit up when she saw me approaching her in the lunchroom always let me know that she was glad to see me too.


By the time Mike abruptly ended our friendship Nina and I were quite close and able to confide pretty well in each other. As I entered the lunchroom the day after my telephone conversation she immediately noticed my upset expression.

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  â€œWhat’s wrong?” She asked, giving me her shy smile. “Oh,” I said, sitting down and opening my lunch bag. “You know my friend Mike that I’ve told you about?”


“Yeah,” She nodded. “The guy who likes to smoke pot all the time. ”

“Right. ” I agreed. “Well yesterday. . . . ”

I poured out the whole story to her, omitting of course the part about how I’d once been a thirty-two year old and couldn’t relate to a sixteen year old very well anymore. She listened without interruption and then, when I was finished, looked at me thoughtfully

.
“You seem like you’re blaming yourself for this. ” She said.

I shrugged.

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   “We’ve been friends for a long time. Maybe I’m being a little hard on him. Is it that much for him to ask for me to drive to school with him each day?”

“If you’re putting your life at risk it is. ” She answered. “It sounds to me like HE is the one to blame for this, not you. He is the one willing to end a friendship over something so stupid as who you drive to school with and whether or not you smoke pot with him. ”

“Yeah, I know. ” I agreed. “But we’ve been friends a long time. I can’t help but feel I’ve let him down or something. ”

“If you’ve been friends a long time,” She said. “Don’t you think he’ll eventually grow up a little and realize how stupid he’s been? He’ll come around. ” “It might be too late by then. ” I blurted.

She looked at me puzzled.

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   “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, just ignore me. ” I told her. “I can be awfully bleak sometimes. ” I left the lunchroom that day feeling better about the situation. Though nothing had changed I always felt better after I’d talked to Nina.


I also got into the habit of checking the business section of the newspaper each day. I would look through the stock market report, memorizing and tracking various stocks. It became such a routine at the breakfast table each morning that Dad quickly stopped asking me why I was doing it. In my former life I’d followed stocks only as they related to my 401k plan. Now I was trying to get a grip on the market, to begin the process of understanding it and eventually mastering it. If I could master it I knew, I could master everything.


Summer break began. When I brought my report card to my mother I actually feared she was going to faint as she stared at it.


“Straight A’s Billy?” She asked, looking at it in disbelief. “You?” “I guess I just started to take all that stuff you’re always sayin’ about how education is the most important thing, seriously Mom.

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  â€ I told her.

An extended version of THE LOOK followed this.

“Do you think you can make your tacos tonight?” I asked next.

“Sure. ” She said numbly.

The summer went by quickly in a haze of hot days and sexual activity. Although Mike no longer hung out with me I found new companionship with Cindy and Tracy. My relationship with my sister had improved to the point where she was confiding secrets in me. She began telling me her hopes and dreams; that she wanted to go to law school, that she wanted to marry a nice man and have children, that she wanted a nice house and a nice car. These were things I’d never known about her since her life had been cut short before we’d gotten out of the teenage rivalry stage. She also no longer seemed to have a problem being seen with me. Maybe something I’d said, something I’d done had given her a little kick in the head, but she treated me that summer as a friend and companion, taking me with her when she went to parties, either with Cindy or with one of her other friends.


She’d also developed a similar aversion to being in a car with an intoxicated driver; an aversion she’d managed to share with Cindy. Whenever we went out one of the girls would stay sober enough to pilot the car safely home. They developed a designated driver rule long before that buzzword caught on.

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   I always suspected that my little speech to Tracy that one night had a lot to do with it.


It was from Cindy and Tracy’s ranks of friends that I chose my sexual companions. They were both part of the popular crowd, members of the elite and in my previous life I would have been intimidated as hell to be at a party with them. But now things were different. I could not bring myself to be intimidated by teenagers, but oh how I lusted after them. I rarely left a party without using one or more of the condoms I carried with me at all times. I got to sleep with girl after girl from my fantasies and it was usually THEY who would approach me thanks to an underground reputation I had developed among the females.


The guys at these parties, who were for the most part older than I, either seniors or college freshmen, were oblivious to what I was doing. Despite my reputation with Fairview they considered me harmless, even as I was taking their girlfriends out for a little walk while they were playing a game of quarters or having someone pour beer down their throat with a beer bong. They wondered what I was doing there of course. I was inevitably the youngest male in attendance and none of them ever chose to converse with me.


That was fine with me. As long as they saw me as no threat when they spotted me talking amongst the girls or having a private conversation with one of their girlfriends. Tracy told me once that many of them thought I was gay. They didn’t tease me about it because of Richie Fairview but that seemed to explain why I chose to hang out with the girls instead of trying to come over and talk football or cars.

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   I never tried to convince them otherwise although the queer logic of this amused me to no end. A guy wants to hang out with girls so he must be gay.


I had careful rules about my relationships during that summer. I generally didn’t sleep with anyone more than once and I made it clear that I desired no sort of commitment or ongoing relationship. I was in it for the sex and the sex only. Most of them understood this. They were in it for the sex too and happy that I was happy to keep my mouth open while it was on their pussy and closed afterword. I had two exceptions to this rule however: Cindy and Anita. I continued to sleep with both of them on a regular basis.


It was nice. They both understood the rules, especially Anita who had no desire to have anyone find out she was boffing a teenaged boy. They were also both on birth control so I didn’t have to wear a condom with them. It is nice to sink bare flesh into bare flesh for a change of pace.


Except for the rift with Mike and except for the absence of my discussions with Nina, which I missed, it was quite a pleasant summer. The best one I’d ever remembered to that point.

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I got my learner’s permit that August when I turned fifteen and a half. Dad then ‘taught’ me to drive.

“You’ve caught on to this remarkably quick. ” He said, looking at me with something close to suspicion the first day.

“Tracy hasn’t been letting you drive, has she?”

“No Dad. ” I assured him, expertly changing lanes, feeling ecstatic to be behind the wheel after, how long? More than six months? “I guess I just have a knack for it. ”

“Some knack. ” He said. “I guess we won’t have to go out all that often, will we?”

September brought the start of my junior year and Tracy’s senior year. I had a whole new slew of classes and subjects that I’d chosen a few weeks before. I was particularly pleased to find that I no longer had to take PE.


My first period class was Introduction to Molecular Biology. Mrs. Crookshank taught it and it was a subject I knew little about. I’d taken it so that I could relieve some of the boredom of school by learning something new.

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   I walked into class the first day and Mrs. Crookshank greeted me stiffly.


“Billy,” She nodded. “It’s nice to see you again this year. ”

“Nice to see you too. ” I answered.

“Do you like to read about molecular biology too?” She asked me next. There was a hint of teasing sarcasm in her face.

“No Mrs. Crookshank. ” I said. “I’m an MB virgin. ”

Before she had a chance to reply I turned to find a seat. I saw that Nina was in the class. She was sitting in the front row and all of the desks around her were empty.

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   She gave me a weak smile, perhaps wondering if I was going to speak to her or not after the summer.


“Hi Nina. ” I greeted, walking over and taking the seat next to hers. “How was your summer?”


It turned out Nina was also in my third period class; Geometry. I sat next to her there also. When the lunch bell rang we walked together to the cafeteria. We found our normal seats and began to talk as we ate. After only a few minutes it was if we’d only done this yesterday.


“So you still want to be a doctor?” I asked her as we waded through the cafeteria’s version of stroganoff.


“Oh yes. ” She nodded. “That’s why I’m taking molecular biology. You have to be heavy in the science classes to get in. Especially if you want to get a scholarship. ” “Where is it you want to go?” I asked her.

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“Anywhere they’ll take me. ” She said. “But I’d prefer U of W at Seattle. It’s a top rated school but close enough so that I could commute home on vacations. If I get a good car that is. My parents don’t have that much money. ”


“Mine either. ” I agreed. “I keep trying to get my old man to invest in the stock market but he won’t do it. I don’t think he trusts my predictions of good stocks. ” “Do you still want to study business?”


“I don’t really WANT to. ” I said. “But I think that I should. I think that’s where my fortune lies. ”

She giggled, an action she would have been incapable of a year before.

 

   “Still gonna make that fortune huh?”

“I think I’ll have a good head for investment. ” I predicted. We ate in silence for a moment and then I asked, “Do you follow all that molecular biology crap? I mean today was only the intro but it seemed pretty deep to me. Quite a change from A&P. ”


“Yeah. ” She nodded. “I’ve read up on it a little over the summer. Trying to get myself a little edge you know? But you know what confused me?” “What?”

“The geometry. It sounded like he was talking in Latin. ” “He was. ” I affirmed. “But I think I got that handled. It’s mostly just memorizing formulas it looks like. The actual math part is the algebra that we learned last year. If you can memorize the formula, you got it nailed.

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“You must have a head for numbers. ” She told me, taking another bite.

“I never did before. ” I muttered.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. ” I answered, an idea suddenly striking me. “Listen, maybe we can help each other out. Why don’t we get together and study a couple times a week? You can help me with the biology and I can help you with the geometry?” She looked up at me, speechless, her face reddening.


“You okay?” I asked, wondering what I’d said to embarrass her.

“You want to. . . study with me?” She asked.

“Sure. ” I said.

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   “Why not? We can either do it at your house or mine. You don’t live too far from me, do you?”

“No. ” She shook her head. She gulped. “Are you sure we should do that?”


“Study together?” I asked, confused. “Of course I do. What’s wrong with that?” She looked at me hard for the longest time, various expressions crossing her face; fear, doubt, elation, disappointment, determination. “Nothing. ” She said finally. “When can we start?”


“I don’t know. ” I said, still confused. “How about whenever we get stuck on something. It’s probably gonna be often the way I see it. ” Her face cleared a little bit and she seemed more composed. She giggled a little and shook her head.

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“What’s wrong?” I asked, nearing exasperation.

“Nothing. ” She chuckled. “Just thinking weird thoughts. ”


“I get those a lot too. ” I told her, still wondering what had gone through her head. I saw Mike in the halls of course but he didn’t talk to me, didn’t approach me. His locker was no longer next to mine. It seemed he had a new group of friends to hang out with; the freshmen kids from last year. They all looked as if they worshipped him. I sadly guessed that that was what he needed. I also knew that he would drop out by the end of this year and that I was powerless to stop it. I tried to approach him a few times and he simply walked away.


Nina and I started studying together on a regular basis and our friendly relationship deepened to the point that we became intimate friends; able to judge each other’s moods with a glance, able to say nearly anything to each other. I became closer to her than I ever would have thought possible.

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   I was closer to her than I’d ever been to Mike. After all, Nina didn’t always try to top whatever story I told or try to convince me about all of the mythical dick she was getting. She didn’t try to get me to smoke cigarettes or cut school or get stoned. There was also no underlying sexual tension with her as there was with most of the other girls I knew. We just enjoyed being together, talking together.


She met Tracy and my parents on her first day studying at my house. It was somewhat awkward since Nina was very shy before new people and my parents were very curious about this girl I chose to have meet them. Though I was boffing nearly everything I could get my dick into at that point, I’d never introduced anyone to them. I thought it kind of ironic that the one they were meeting was the one I had not had any sex with. Nina uttered monosyllable replies to Dad and Mom’s inquiries about where she lived, what she planned to do, etc, and finally they left us alone. Tracy had only uttered a polite greeting and had retreated to her room.


After she’d left, and after I’d answered my parent’s interrogation and explained that we were only STUDYING together, that we were only friends, and that they should not start compiling a wedding list, I went upstairs to put my books away. Tracy was doing some studying of her own, this time to the accompaniment of Ozzy Osborne. She looked up as I passed and called me into the room. “What’s up?” I asked her.

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“Have you no shame at all?” She asked me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“It’s bad enough that you’re screwing all of my friends but isn’t that enough? Have you gotten bored with that and decided to start knocking off the shy egghead girls too?You are serious scum. ”

“I’m not screwing Nina. ” I said, looking at my sister aghast. “We were just studying. She’s my friend. ”


“You don’t have any girl friends. ” She accused. “You have fuck partners. Are you seriously telling me that you invited that poor girl over here to study? You didn’t take her upstairs for a little private session before we all got home?” “No. ” I yelled, shaking my head. “My god, am I that bad?” “Are you that bad?” She laughed. “Do you know how many relationships you’ve broken up in the last few months? Do you know that more than four of my friends have dumped their boyfriends after they fucked you?” “No. ” I said, and then, “Really?”


“Really.

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  â€ She nodded. “It was kind of cute at first, how all these girls were trying to maneuver to you, to get you to notice them. But you’re getting out of hand. I’ve got girls coming up to me and pretending to be my friend just so I’ll introduce them to you. Of course I have to keep it quiet they all say. I just wanna meet him, talk to him a little. Did you know that they all talk about you in the locker room and in the bathroom? Do you know what they say about you?”


“What?” I asked.

“They talk about you the way your friends talk about chicks like Steph. You’re a male slut Billy. They describe what you do to them and how well you do it using the most disgusting terms I’ve ever heard. They’ve even asked me if I’ve done you. Me! Your fucking sister!”

“I’m sorry Tracy, I never. . . ”

“But you know what they never say about you?” She went on.

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   “They never say how nice of a guy you are or how respectful you are. They never come up to me and say, ‘Gee Tracy, your brother is such a sweetheart’. All they talk about is how you’ll eat their pussy like a goddam vacuum cleaner or about how you’ll fuck them until they scream. They never talk about how they’d like to take you home to meet their mom or about how they’d like to be your girlfriend. They talk about how they can manage to get over to your house again for another session. ”


“Wow. ” I said, unsure what to think. Though I’d known that I had a reputation among the girls I had no idea they talked the way Tracy was telling me. I was also disconcerted at my sister’s anger about this. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was have her pissed off at me.

“Wow. ” Tracy mocked. “That’s pretty goddam profound. ” I sat down on the edge of her bed, setting my backpack full of books down. Tracy turned down the stereo a little.

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“I’m sorry Tracy. ” I told her. “I didn’t know that what I was doing was affecting you. I thought I was just having some harmless fun. And I assure you that Nina and I are just friends. I haven’t slept with her and I have no intention of doing so. ” She stared at me for a moment. “You know the damnedest thing?” She asked. “The damnedest thing is that you ARE a nice guy and you ARE a sweetheart when you want to be. If you were an asshole it wouldn’t bother me for girls to talk about you that way but you aren’t. It bugs the shit out of me to hear people talk about my little brother that way. You would probably feel the same way if you went into the locker room and the guys were saying how well Tracy sucked dick or how she’d fuck anyone who asked, wouldn’t you?”


“Well, yeah. ” I nodded. Would it bother me? I would want to kill whomever I heard saying that.

“That’s how I feel when I hear that.

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  â€ She said. “And I can’t even defend you in front of them because it’s true. You DO fuck anyone who asks. ” “I’m sorry. ” I repeated. I couldn’t think of a thing to say to her. I surely wasn’t going to say that I wouldn’t do it anymore because that would have been a lie. “Look. ” She said. “I’m just your sister. I’m not gonna ask you to stop fucking girls. I know you wouldn’t do it anyway. But can you maybe tone it down a little? Cut it down to one or two a week? Or maybe hit up some of the other ones more than once?” I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ll try Tracy. I’ll try.

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   But remember, I’m fifteen. I’m at my sexual peak you know. ”


“Fuck you dickhead. ” She laughed back. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, but you deserved it. ”

“I suppose I did. ” I agreed.

“You’re really not fucking Nina?”

“I’m really not. ” I affirmed.
“Maybe there’s hope for you yet. ” She said.


So for Tracy’s sake I toned things down a little. Also for my own. I wasn’t sure I liked being referred to as a male slut. I stopped pursuing women with the vigor I’d exhibited before, instead simply waiting for them to come to me.

 

   I also began giving more repeat performances. By the time the snow flew I had, in addition to a new best friend, a small circle of girls that I regularly had sex with instead of a constant stream. It was enough and when one of the girls got tired of the relationship or met someone they wanted to have for a boyfriend, I would covet someone else.


To my surprise Tracy and Nina actually became something like friends. Nina would come over to my house twice a week or so to study and my sister, curious about the type of girl I would choose as a friend, made a point to talk to her each time she was over. Nina was slow warming up to my sister. I knew that this was due to her past treatment by other girls, which was both crueler and longer lasting than the torment she’d suffered from boys. This was something I never would have suspected had she not told me and it disheartened me to think that the fairer sex could be even crueler to their own then boys were.


But gradually Nina lost her shyness before Tracy and even Cindy, who was also a frequent visitor to our house. The two older girls took Nina under their wing and taught her the finer points of fashion, talking her into replacing her plain clothes with more modern ones. They taught her how to put on make-up, accenting her facial features. They taught her how to fix her hair into something other than a ponytail. The change in her appearance was actually startling when you saw it. I was able to see the attractive doctor that she would one day be, although without the perpetually bitchy expression and mannerism.


And then came the day in early December when a cold winter storm was blowing across the Spokane area.

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   Snow was being driven through the air by gusting winds that registered more than forty miles an hour. As I walked out to the school parking lot towards Cindy’s car the snowflakes hit me in the face like little shards of steel, stinging me and making me pull my hood and my scarf tighter around me. Snowdrifts were already more than ten feet high against some of the buildings and the ground was covered in white. If it had been snowing like this in the morning they would have closed the school.


Unfortunately the storm hadn’t geared up until late morning. When I got to the place where Cindy’s car had been parked I looked up to find nothing. I looked around the parking lot, wondering if I was mistaken about where she’d parked. The wind cut into my face like a knife as I tried to locate the Caprice. It was nowhere to be seen. Other kids were rushing to their cars in groups of two or more, some of them slipping and sliding on the slick pavement. I saw no Cindy or no Tracy though.


“What the fuck?” I muttered, wondering where in the hell they’d gone. It took me only a minute to figure out that I was stuck here with no other prospect but to walk home. I wondered if I would freeze to death before I got there. And then I spotted Raisin heading for his Falcon.

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   I ran after him. When Raisin dropped me off in front of my house fifteen minutes later the sight of Cindy’s car parked at our curb did not improve my mood. I thanked Raisin and bade him farewell, trudging through the thick snow on the driveway to the front door, uttering foul things under my breath about sisters and friends that left brothers abandoned in a freaking blizzard.


The door was locked so I used my key, stepping into the warmth of the living room, prepared to chew out the traitorous girls. But they weren’t there. The television was off, and on the stereo turntable one of my Pink Floyd albums was spinning silently around at 33 and 1/3 revolutions per minute, the arm suspended above one of the tracks. A quick glance at the coffee table gave me a pretty good idea what had happened. An opened bag of Doritos was sitting there along with the remains of some sandwiches and a few candybar wrappers.


They were getting stoned! They’d left me to freeze to death in the snow so they could go home and get stoned. And they’d probably smoked all of the pot before my arrival. The bitches! Where were they now? I began stomping through the house, looking for them.


When I approached the door that led out to the garage I heard girlish giggles coming from the other side. Fumed, I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. What I saw on the other side made me freeze in my tracks.


Cindy and Tracy were out there all right.

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   The smell of greenbud came wafting over me and there was an actual haze in the confined space. But the surprising thing was who was with them. Nina was there, her mouth applied to the neck of the bong, sucking a hit up through the water while Cindy held the lighter and cheered her. “That’s the way girl!” Cindy encouraged. “Hit that shit!”


Tracy looked up at me, her eyes half-lidded, a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Hey Billy. ” She haled. “Glad you got home okay. You want a hit?” Nina, hearing my name broke off what she was doing, leaving smoke curling from the bong. She saw the dumbfounded look on my face as I stared at her. She held my stare for a moment and then burst out into hysterical laughter, expelling a large cloud of fragrant smoke from her mouth and nose. Tracy and Cindy instantly joined her in hysterics. They were pointing at me as they doubled over in laughter. They laughed for nearly three minutes as I stood in the doorway and simply stared. I could not believe that they had actually gotten Nina stoned.

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   I could not believe that she’d gone along with it. What were they thinking?


When their giggles and chortles dried up I walked over to them. Nina started to say something and then burst into laughter again. Cindy joined her. “You got her stoned?” I asked Tracy, who was the only one not laughing.
    “And you had her cut school?”


    “We didn’t have her do anything. ” Tracy told me, picking up a baggie and loading another hit into the bong. “She asked us if we had any pot. She wanted to try it. It seems all those stories you told her about smoking out made her curious. ” She giggled, jerking a thumb towards Nina. “As you can see, she seems to like it. Why didn’t you ever smoke any with her?”


    “I didn’t think she’d want to. ” I said, watching Nina’s face. She would start to calm down a little and then would look at me and burst into fresh laughter.

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      â€œI guess you were wrong. ” Tracy said, handing me the bong and a lighter. “I think there’s a lot of things about Nina that you don’t know. ” “What do you mean?” I asked.

    “Later. ” She answered. “Have a hit. ”

    Oh well, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. I flicked the bic and put my mouth to the bong. Cindy and Nina both left shortly before Dad arrived home from work. I worried about the two of them on the snowy roads with a stoned driver at the wheel. I wouldn’t stop them from leaving but I made them promise to put on their seatbelts. I knew Nina would and I also knew the chances of them being in a fatal crash were slim. Most fatal accidents occurred during the summer months, when the weather was clear and when the drivers could barrel along at suicidal speed. During snowy weather everyone drove slow.

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       While there were more accidents, they tended to be minor. You simply couldn’t generate enough kinetic energy to kill during a snowstorm. If Cindy got in an accident it would probably be a fender-bender. But then nothing is absolute so I worried. After dinner and dishes, while the household began to wind down for bed I found my way to Tracy’s room once again. Outside the wind was still howling against the windows, making the storm-shutters rattle and bang. They would have cancelled school the next day except for the fact that it was Saturday.

    Tracy was lying on her bed, reading the latest (for that time) Stephen King book. She was wearing her standard pajamas, a long T-shirt.

    “What’s up?” She asked as I tapped on the frame of her door.
    “Can I come in?” I asked.
    “Sure. ” She nodded, setting the book down and sitting up.

    “Earlier today,” I started. “While we were smoking out.

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      â€

    “Yeah. ” She nodded. “Wasn’t that some killer shit? I was droning all through dinner. Do you want to smoke some more? I still have a little left. ” “No,” I said, shaking my head. And then I amended. “Well, maybe tomorrow. But anyway, while we were smoking you said that there’s a lot of things I didn’t know about Nina. ”

    “Yeah?” Tracy smiled a little.

    “What did you mean by that?” I asked.

    She gave me a very adult look. “You really don’t know, do you?” She asked.

    “Don’t know what?” I asked.


    She took a deep breath. “Nina’s in love with you Billy.

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      â€

    “What?!”

    “Not just infatuation, not just attraction, not just puppy-love, whatever the fuck that is, but love. L-O-V-E. The big one. The ultimate like. She’s head over heels in love with you little brother. ”

    I was stunned into silence for a moment. Finally I said, “Did she tell you this?”

    “No. ” Tracy said. “She doesn’t have to. It’s pretty plain to everyone who talks to her. I’ve known it ever since I started getting her to talk to me.

    She thinks you’re the shit. ” She shrugged. “God knows why. ”

    “Wait a minute.

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      â€ I said, trying to deny it. “I think you’re mistaken. We’re good friends, we like to talk to each other, I can see how you would think. . . ”

    “I’m not mistaken Billy. ” Tracy said firmly. “You can accept it or not accept it. I’m just supplying information for you. She is in love with you. No doubt about it. And she’s terribly afraid that you don’t love her, that you’ll never be interested in her, that you’ll break her heart someday. ”

    “What? How. . .

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      â€

    “Because I’m a girl. ” Tracy answered before I could finish asking. “We know these things. She knows you could hurt her bad and she also knows she is powerless to prevent that if you decided to do it. She loves being around you but she wants more. She’s not getting more but she stays around because of the hope that someday she will. She’ll stay as long as the slimmest hope remains of that. The only way you’ll get her to stop loving you is to destroy her hope completely. She may or may not recover from that. She’s kind of a fragile girl, as you may have noticed, and I tend to think that maybe she wouldn’t.


    “I’m not telling you all of this to scare you or anything. I just want you to know what you’re dealing with here. She loves you. You are God to her. So you need to tread carefully with her because you’re playin’ with her fuckin’ emotions.

     

       Do you understand?”


    “No. ” I shook my head. “I do not. ” I became angry. Here I was a thirty-two, almost thirty-three year old and a seventeen-year-old girl was telling me about love? What the hell did she know about it? She was probably reading all kinds of things into Nina’s conversations based on the romance novels that she obsessively read all the time. “Nina and I are friends. No more than that. That’s all we’ll ever be. She likes me, she enjoys my company, but she doesn’t love me. I used to tease her in grammar school for Christ sake! You’ve got your signals crossed. ”


    She picked up her book again. “Believe what you want Billy. ” She told me, dismissing me in a non-verbal way. “But I’m not wrong about this. ” Winter went on.

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       I got straight A’s again in the first semester of school. Second semester began with Nina and I in three classes together. We continued to study together a few times a week. I always watched her carefully, listened to her words carefully when I was with her. She liked to be around me, that was for sure, as I liked to be around her. She valued my opinion as I valued hers. She joked with me, revealing a quick and witty sense of humor beneath her shyness, a sense of humor that I knew that no one but me ever saw. We enjoyed being together. We were friends, very good friends, best friends even. But love? I thought not.


    On February 10 of that year, 1983, I went down to the department of motor vehicles with my Dad after school. I took the written test, passing with 100 percent. I then climbed in Dad’s Dodge Diplomat with a crusty old driving tester and took my driver’s license test. The instructor was impressed with my abilities, stating that she’d rarely seen a new driver that operated a motor vehicle so well. She gave me a ninety-six on the exam, marking me down a point because I hadn’t parallel parked terribly well, something I’d never mastered.

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       I returned to the DMV office and had my picture taken. I was now a licensed driver.


    As I drove my Dad home that day he congratulated me and gave me a brief lecture on safe driving. Doing his fatherly duty you understand. When he was finished I turned to him.


    “I’d like to get a job Dad. ” I told him.

    “A job?” He asked, looking at me.

    “Yeah. ” I nodded. “I want to start making my own money. You know, so I can buy my own car and start putting money away for college. Stuff like that. ” “Well that’s admirable Bill. ” He told me, taken aback a bit.

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       “I certainly am not going to stop you. ”


    “Could I use the car on weekdays after you get home? If I find a job that is?” “I suppose. ” He told me. “As long as we don’t need it for anything. Of course you realize our insurance rates are going to go up now that you AND Tracy are listed on the policy. Also the gas is going to go up. And then there’s Tracy. She likes to use the car too. ”


    “I’ll pay for whatever the increase is. ” I promised. “And Tracy and I will work something out. ”

    “Yes. ” He said thoughtfully. “I suppose you will. ” He told me.

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       “You and your sister have been getting along pretty well this last year. ” He said. I shrugged in the way of teenagers.

    “Much better than you used to. In fact, there was a dramatic change in your relationship and even in your personality some time ago. ” His eyes bored into me. “It was shortly before you got stabbed that time. ”

    What was he saying? I felt suddenly nervous under his gaze. Dad knew something had happened to me but he didn’t know what. Did he? Was he simply probing for information? Or did he suspect the truth? The truth was nuts wasn’t it? He couldn’t be suspecting it. Could he?

    “I guess I just got my shit together Dad. ” I answered nervously. “Tracy too. ”

    He continued to stare for a moment and then gave a slight shake of his head. “Don’t say ‘shit’.

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      â€ He finally responded. “If you want to get a job and if you and your sister can work out the car, then you’ve got my blessing. ” “Thanks Dad. ” I told him.

    I certainly did not want to work in one of the sweat shops that was a fast food joint so I didn’t bother applying at any of them. I had nothing but time I knew so I bided it carefully, only putting in applications at places where I knew I would be able to stand the pace. You have to understand that I had spent eight years as a paramedic. For all the gore we have to put up with, for all the responsibility that we are instilled with, for all of the abuse that we have to take, the job was anything but fast paced. On a twelvehour shift we would respond to an average of six calls, each one taking an hour or so to complete from the moment of dispatch until the paperwork was dropped off at the hospital. That left six hours of downtime on each shift. Sometimes, on slow shifts, it was even more. I knew I would not be able to handle working on a burger assembly line for hours at a time.


    It was a pizza joint that eventually ended up hiring me in early March. The manager had granted me an interview and had started it by saying that he probably wouldn’t hire me since he generally only offered jobs to those with previous experience. “Well Sir.

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      â€ I’d told him. “I can respect that opinion. And I understand it completely. ”


    “You do?” He asked, mildly amused, checking his watch for his next interview. “I do. ” I said. “But I’ll tell you something. If you hire me you will not be sorry. In fact, I’d venture to say that it would be the best hire you’ll ever make. You know why?” That got his attention. “Why?” He asked.


    “Because my father has instilled in me a solid work ethic. He’s taught me that employment is sacred in this life, a thing to be cherished above all but the family unit. If I am given the position you will receive complete loyalty from me. I will show up each of my scheduled days on time and ready to work.

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       I will do whatever jobs you see fit in whatever manner you see fit to do them. I am not your typical teenager who will call in sick when he hears that a good kegger is going on at the falls. I will put aside my personal life in order to fulfill my responsibilities to this restaurant and hopefully you will move me up the ladder of advancement as reward. ” I gave him my sincere smile. “Hire me and you will not be sorry. ”


    He hired me. I started the following week making pizzas in the back and washing up dishes on Friday through Monday night from 5:00 PM to 10:30 PM. I did my job well, showing up on time, as I’d promised, and completing all assignments given to me without complaint. After all, I had an adult’s work ethic. The manager was quite impressed with me. He often commented how mature I seemed. The pay was a pittance, $3. 25 an hour, which was minimum wage for that time, but it was income none-the-less and, as a kid, I had no real expenses to speak of. We were paid once a week, on Friday. My schedule entitled me to $71.

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      50 each paycheck. Uncle Sam and Aunt Washington took $12. 00 from this, leaving me with $59. 50 in cold, hard cash. In my previous life I’d been a horrible financial manager. I lived paycheck to paycheck, never maintaining a savings account except for my 401k, which was automatically deducted. I’d run up a considerable debt with credit cards and car payments, not to mention alimony and child support. I’d been in the rut familiar to many Americans, that being that you owe so much that you could only afford to pay the minimum payments on anything. This of course left you in exactly the same place each month, each year, since the interest on these things accumulated as fast as the minimum payments reduced them. Even before Mr. Li entered my life, even before the Spokane Fire Department began threatening to take my job from me, I’d always wished that I had my financial history to do over again. Well now I did. I made another solemn vow. I would manage any money I got wisely, utilizing the brutal lessons I’d learned before being recycled. I would not live beyond my means ever again.

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       It was un-American of course, but I was going to do it.


    I took $10. 00 of each paycheck for personal enjoyment type things. $5. 00 paid for the gas I used in my Dad’s car and another $5. 00 went to insurance rate compensation. That left me $39. 50 each week that had nowhere to go. I opened up a savings account at a nearby bank. I was amused and slightly offended to find that I had to have my Dad’s permission before the bank would open it for me. My God, what chaos would erupt if minors were allowed to open bank accounts without regulation. I began putting this money in there each paycheck. The interest on the account was a pittance, a mere two percent, but that was okay. The savings account was just a holding tank until I built up some capital. When I accumulated enough money, I had a better place in mind to store it.

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    My parents watched all this with interest, not surprised at my work ethic, which I’d learned from them after all and which they’d expected nothing less than, but with my frugelness. You see, my money management skills in my previous life I’d learned from them also. My parents, through my childhood and teenaged years had managed their money about as well as I did as an adult, which was not well at all. I’m certainly not blaming them for my later troubles just explaining the fact that they were wondering where I’d learned my money management. They watched my savings account grow each week (they had to co-sign my deposits) with respect and admiration and more than a little confusion. God forgive them, they even suggested I take some of that money out from time to time and enjoy myself a little. “I’m saving for college. ” I would tell them. “And maybe a car sometime soon. ”

    “I see. ” They would reply. “That’s very wise Billy. ”

    My work schedule put somewhat of a kink in my sex life since the weekends had been my traditional boffing time. But it was only a minor kink. The girls that really wanted to experience my skills would find the time to be with me on weekdays.

     

       I would generally have them come over immediately after school where I would take them to my room, show them the pleasure they were seeking, and send them on their way before Dad got home from work. On most of these days Nina would come over after the latest girl had departed and we would study together or just sit on the couch and talk, drinking soda and munching on chips or something, maybe watching some TV. Mom and Dad were under the impression that Nina was my girlfriend, which actually struck me as somewhat funny. They had no idea that I was screwing the brains out of various teenaged girls before they got home. They even expressed pride that I still went over to Anita’s and mowed her lawn or cleaned her windows or babysat her kids or put her storm windows up or took them down. They had no idea that their dear friend was paying me for these services in something more valuable than mere money. I don’t believe even Tracy knew what the score really was between Anita and I. The months went by. The frigid chill of winter gave way to the spring of 1983.

    I heard through the grapevine that Mike was leaving school to go to independent study classes. This rumor filled me with dread and reminded me that I still had a piece of unfinished business. Independent study was one of those state-sponsored atrocities that accounted for more dropouts than anything else. I should actually say IS, since the thing still existed before my recycling. What happens is a poor student is encouraged to leave mainstream high school and go to a separate campus for study. They are required to be there only twelve hours a week and are given various assignments to complete at their own pace.

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       They and their parents are told that they can graduate this way if they only complete the meager amount of work that is supplied. What inevitably happens is that the student in question finds that even twelve hours a week is too much and they eventually leave it for the abyss of drop-out status. The whole thing is nothing more than a false hope for parents and a dead-end for students. Mike was no exception. He would be in independent study for less than two months before leaving school behind forever. He would eventually pay money to be crammed for his GED so he could get into the Air Force where he would ultimately be dishonorably discharged for marijuana use.


    I had to take a shot at preventing this. I simply had to. That week I had my Dad deposit only $24. 50 in my savings account, keeping an extra fifteen bucks for myself. Naturally, since this was a break in the routine, he questioned it.


    “Swaying from your convictions a little?” He asked as I handed him the deposit slip. I shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “I guess you guys are right. ” I told him.

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       “I SHOULD enjoy myself once in a while. I thought I’d just blow fifteen bucks on something this time as a reward. ”


    “Well good for you. ” Dad told me. “What are you going to spend it on?” “No firm plans. ” I lied. “Maybe I’ll just spend it all on video games down at the arcade. You know, Space Invaders and all that?”

    “Well you deserve it. ” He told me, putting his signature next to mine. The following Monday at school I found Steph wandering through the halls. She was glad to see me.

    “Do you think maybe your brother can get me an eighth of some good greenbud?” I asked.

    “Does the Pope shit in the woods?” She smiled. “You got the cash?” I handed her fifteen bucks, a ten and a five. She took it from me and then peeled off the five and handed it back to me.

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       “For you it’s only ten. ” She smiled. “IF, you let me bring it over to your house today to deliver it personally. ” I looked her up and down, remembering what her body had felt like beneath mine.


    And it was five bucks. I’d certainly made worse deals in my life. “You’re on. ” I told her.

    “Just show up right after school. I have to work today. ”

    “I’ll be there. ” She promised, stuffing the ten into the pocket of her jeans. She was there. She handed me a plastic baggie of pungent pot and then we retired to my bedroom. I enjoyed her body in as many different ways as I could imagine while she enjoyed mine.

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       She left with a smile on her face.


    I stuffed the pot she’d given me under the center of my mattress and headed for the shower. I had to be to work shortly after Dad got home. The next day, Tuesday, I found Mike wandering through the halls between third and fourth period. I took a deep breath and then walked up to him, matching his pace when I was beside him.

    “What’s up Mike?” I asked carefully.

    He looked over at me, his face registering instant hostility, obviously debating whether or not to speak to me. Finally he said, “Nothin’. ” “Haven’t seen you in a while. ” I commented.

    He shrugged. “Been busy. ” He told me.

    I nodded wisely. “Yeah.

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      â€ I replied. “Me too. Workin’ and everything. Listen, I was thinking that maybe we could get together after school today. Bullshit a little you know. Just like old times. ”

    “Naw. ” He said instantly. “Got things to do. ”

    I nodded again. “Okay. ” I answered, knowing that I was resorting to dirty tricks but it was a desperate situation, wasn’t it? “Too bad. I just scored an eighth of some killer greenbud. ”

    His eyes lit up like pinball machines. “Really?” He asked, his disinterest dropping away instantly.

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    “Yeah. ” I said. “But it’s cool. If you got things to do. . . . ” “Well I can prob’ly come over for a while. ” He put in. “You know, we haven’t hung out in a while. ”

    “Cool. ” I said, suppressing a smile. “I’ll see you after school then. ”

    “Right. ”


    On the way home from school I asked Tracy and Cindy if they maybe wanted to go to the mall for a few hours before Dad got home from work.

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      â€œThe mall?” Cindy asked, lighting a cigarette. “I was hopin’ you had some new albums to show me today. ”


    Tracy gave her a look of annoyance and then turned to me. “What’s the matter Billy, you getting’ shy about your study sessions with our friends?” “No. ” I answered. “Not at all. I have something important to do today. Mike’s coming over. ”


    “Mike!” Tracy said, disgusted now. “That fuckin’ hoser! I thought you’d wised up and stopped hangin’ out with him. ”

    “Please?” I said, not of.
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