I got down to where Arno was and I tried to pull him up, before he could think too clearly about what Kelli had said, but he struggled away from me. It was both extremely weird and no surprise at all that Arno had met his match in Kelli, but this was obviously the wrong time to comment on it.
“Kelli, you never told me about any boyfriend at home,” I said. And as soon as the words came out of my mouth I knew they had about as much value as Arno’s humiliating love plea.
“I don’t care about your boyfriend,” Arno said. “Stay here and let’s live together.”
“Where?” I asked. “In your room at your parents’ house? Are you insane? Come with me.”
And then I literally dragged Arno out to the front stoop. When I looked back, I could see Kelli looking at me, and she gave me a big wink. I just shook my head. Thanks for letting me come out with you, she’d said. I remembered how simple that had sounded, cut with a hint of country. And now, among other things, she’d destroyed my friend.
Arno let out a moan.
“It’ll be okay,” I said.
Out on the stoop the night was surprisingly warm. I looked back behind me and realized that the party was growing. We hadn’t even begun to look for Patch.
Arno plopped down on the steps and put his head in his hands. “Dude, what am I going to do?”
I kind of patted him on the shoulder, which felt ridiculous. Some girls walked up the steps and stared at him like, that’s Arno? They shook their heads in amazement and went inside.
“She’s wrong for you,” I said.
“I love her.”
I took a deep breath. “Arno,” I said, “Kelli’s a user. She could never love you. Look what she just did to you in there.”
I figured the truth would make him sit bolt upright or something. But his head stayed down around his knees.
“I don’t care,” he said. “Nobody ever made me feel like that before.”
“Can you be more specific?” I asked, and then when he looked up, I wished I hadn’t. I remembered back in fifth grade, when he’d figured out that if he let them, most girls would make out with him, even girls like Molly, who supposedly liked other boys, like David.
“Most times girls come up and they smile and they say whatever junk they like to say and I pretend to listen and then we fool around. I don’t even have to be coherent.”
“But Kelli wasn’t like that.”
“Right.”
“She played you is why.”
“No—dude, it was more than that.”
“Then why did she just humiliate you and now she’s downstairs with some hot-shit artist and you’re out on the stoop crying on my shoulder?”
“There’s something else,” Arno said.
“About Amanda? She’s pissed is what I figure. She thought she was blowing off David for you and you were going to step up and go out with her in a real way. As soon as I’m done with you I’ve got to go find David.”
“No,” Arno said. “This other thing is as bad or worse.”
I stepped back then, and wrapped my hands around the iron railing. I’d flashed on a vision of Arno with Flan. No, I didn’t even need to take it there—them together in a room talking, that was enough. Flan would complain to him about my unwillingness to be with her and Arno would fix that as he slipped her tank top off her shoulders.
“What could be worse?” I asked. There were icicles between my toes. Icicles or razors.
“I fooled around with Liza.”
“Really,” I said. And I knew there was more wonder in my voice than anger. Liza was my friend. And probably she was in pain, which explained that whole other aspect of what had just happened.
“You’re in trouble,” I said.
“I know,” Arno said. “I’m starting to wonder if David was right. If Patch were around, none of this would have happened. Anyway, I don’t understand who I am now that I’m in love. What can I do to make things better?”
I didn’t tell him that was ridiculous. The music had gone up inside the house. I knew that we had to get out of there and find Patch before someone else decided to be in love with Kelli.
“I’ll figure something out,” I said.