CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

NICK AND MATTHEW leaned against the wall and waited for David and Krystal to come out of the store. They couldn’t stand to be there another minute, being accused by some old man of something they didn’t do.

Matthew shook his head with anger and spit. “I don’t give a crap what his wife sees, she’s as blind as him.”

“Screw that bastard and his fat little wife, I didn’t steal anything.”

“They figure, Oh, they’re teenagers, look at ’em; they must be criminals. Pisses me off.”

“We got to get out of this town,” said Nick as he stepped away from the wall and stood up on one of the concrete parking curbs bolted into the lot. He pivoted, doing a balancing act, and lost his balance when Krystal appeared before him. Nick stole another look at her short green shorts, the way they exposed her slender legs. Her tight T-shirt. In the bright, sparkling sun, Nick could see the pattern of her bra through the thin material, something the back of his car hadn’t revealed. David emerged from the store and put his father’s groceries down on the ground. He looked at his friends.

“What are we doing? Car’s on the other side,” he said.

“You got somewhere to be?” Nick asked. “Let’s hang out awhile.”

David frowned. “What about Phil Massa and the rest?”

“Buncha fags,” Nick answered, leaning against the wall again. “They’re not going to do nothing.”

Krystal whistled and David turned to her.

“I can’t believe you took him out with one punch like that, holy crap!” she said, laughing. It wasn’t funny, but David started to laugh a little anyway.

“It was the least I could do, I was getting my ass kicked.” The other two started to chuckle.

“Bob Cassidy’s a jerk,” Krystal said. “Guy’s four years older than you, he’s got nothing better to do than hang at a high school party and pick on a sophomore?”

David watched Krystal as she shook her head. He noticed how kind her face seemed when she smiled, genuinely indignant. Did he have the wrong impression of her all along? he wondered. He noticed the softness in her voice, but his face dropped when over her shoulder he noticed a Chevy Nova slowing down on Turnbull Road. It appeared to be pulling into the parking lot, but suddenly stopped, then kept going. David’s hand snapped quickly to feel the gun in the small of his back. He peered into the car window and saw Bob Cassidy driving, and lost all feeling in his feet when he saw Julia sitting beside him. The car peeled off, disappearing from view, and he whipped around to face Krystal.

“Did you know about this?”

“Oh, Christ, here we go again,” announced Matthew.

David darted his eyes at him. “The hell’s your problem?”

“Not everything is about you. Jesus, can’t we go one day without you moping over that stupid bitch?”

David stepped toward him. “Call her that again, I dare you.”

“Oh, knock it off,” barked Nick, stepping between the two. They glared at each other. Matthew was getting angrier.

“You know, everybody’s got problems. We just got accused of shoplifting in there. You act like you’re the only person on earth and I’m sick of it. Let him come at me, Nick, see what the tough guy can do.”

“Up yours. You want to go?” David held out his arms. Nick put his hands on David’s chest to hold him back.

“Let him go, Nick,” Matthew taunted. “See what he can do. You’re such a tough guy, let’s see you be tough.”

David pulled away from Nick and kicked a rock across the parking lot. His eyes were searching for some rational explanation. On the ground. In the lines painted across the asphalt. In the broken glass. She was in his car. She was sitting in his car, and she must have told him to drive off when she saw David. He glanced toward his friends. They were silent. Matthew wiped the back of his neck and stared at his sweaty hand in disgust.

Krystal watched a change wash over David’s face, from an expression of outward rage, to one of calm, inner madness. David was standing near a disabled shopping cart lying on its side. He stared at the ground in silence. His mind was no longer racing, but in a flash he imagined Julia wedded to Bob. Their three kids; the family photo standing in a frame on their coffee table. It gave some sort of permission in his mind to wreak all the damage he could.

His arms and legs bent obediently to the will of his rage. In one violent motion, he kicked his leg into the air and crashed his foot down on the side of the metal cart. The cart dented. Another wild stomp and it dented further. He picked it up, slammed it down. He picked it up again, and hurled it across the parking lot. He let out a guttural scream, grabbed an empty Budweiser bottle, and fired it against the wall of the deli. The bottle shattered into pieces. Then he was silent again, staring at the ground. The others didn’t move, but Matthew rolled his eyes. Nino stepped outside to see what all the noise was about.