Turner High School was not known for safety, but its various constituencies—gangs, rich kids, honors students, drama geeks, losers—all coexisted essentially peacefully. The gangs beat up the gangs, the rich kids spent their money, the drama kids put on Our Town and wrote poems about despair, the losers smoked weed on the Embankment, and the public school thrummed along like the giant, unruly beast that it was.
Charlie wasn’t sure where Peter got his pot, but knew a drug dealer was at Turner, maybe more than one, who serviced the various groups. It wasn’t that the rich kids didn’t smoke weed or take pills. They just did it in the safety of their parents’ mansions instead of out in the open on the grassy banks behind the fields and temporary buildings. The Embankment offered relative obscurity from school officials and campus officers. It wasn’t like they didn’t know about the Embankment. It was just that they could ignore it, for the most part, a few symbolic stings aside. You couldn’t arrest everyone, all the time.
On the way there, Charlie cut through the portables. It was out of his way, but something had been bothering him. That graffiti, All Must … That bullshit explanation. Song lyrics? Come on. Alex played guitar in his room, mostly Kurt Cobain covers. Badly. But still …
There was the graffiti. Still unfinished. And there was Alex, sitting alone on the steps of Portable B, reading Cat’s Cradle. He’d torn through most of the book since yesterday.
“Hey, Charlie.”
“Hey, Alex.”
“Cool prank yesterday.”
“Yeah. Epic. One for the history books.”
Alex shrugged.
“Are you coming tonight? To Tech Lab.”
“I guess so,” Alex said. “Midnight?”
“Yeah, that was Peter’s idea. Of course.”
“Of course.”
“Listen, did you get a weird text, with a link? Like an invitation?”
“Yeah, I guess.” That was a fulsome answer for Alex.
Charlie nodded. So God (or G.O.D., he guessed it was now) did know they all hacked the sign together? How would it know that? Were they really being watched that closely?
“You didn’t click that link, did you?”
“No.”
“Good. Don’t do it yet.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Peter’s digging into it.”
Alex frowned.
“You okay?”
“Sure,” Alex said.
When they started the Vindicators, Alex was the quietest of the group. The most outcast. But he was always in the Tech Lab. He’d found it before the rest of them. He’d eat his lunch and surf the Web or pay MOBAs. When the rest of them gelled together, it just made sense that Alex would be swept up into the group with them. But it was easier back then, when he was harmless weird Alex.
“I know what you think,” Alex said suddenly. He almost sounded angry.
“About what?”
“Me.”
“Alex, what are you talking about it?”
“I can feel it. You don’t have to say it. All of you.”
“The Vindicators?”
“You don’t want me in the group. Not anymore.”
Charlie wanted to say that was not true. But he was a shitty liar. Harmless weird Alex had given way to off-the-rails troubled Alex. Was there something more? Was Alex on the verge of something worse, something unnamed and deep, that Charlie just couldn’t deal with right now? That did make him a shitty friend, he realized—maybe Vanhi was right—but he felt the truth like a bubble squeezing into his own orbit, and it was all too much. Kenny was freaked out by new Alex. Peter was no saint, but he had that Teflon quality, and Charlie felt safe around him, even when they were getting in trouble. Peter knew when to push and when to pull back. He was rich, so he’d be okay in the end. Alex felt like a drowning man who had thrown himself in a lake and would pull anyone trying to save him down with him.
So, yes, goddamnit, maybe he didn’t want Alex in the group anymore. But Charlie said, “That’s not true,” because he didn’t want to hurt Alex’s feelings.
Alex winced. How long had Charlie hesitated? A microsecond? Long enough, apparently, because Alex had heard all he needed to hear.
Charlie felt like shit. Vanhi was right: freshman year, Charlie would have been the first one defending Alex, pulling him back from the edge. That was friendship. You don’t just cut people loose when it’s convenient. Weird or not, Alex was a Vindicator. Charlie tried to salvage the situation, but the damage was done.
“I mean it. You’re one of us.” But he could feel how the moment had soured. That first instant was the truth, and he had failed, and everything after was just scrambling, making it worse.
“Okay.”
“We’re just worried about you,” Charlie said weakly.
“Don’t be. I’m fine.” Alex turned back to his book.
“Alex.”
“I’m gonna read for a while.” Alex’s voice was cracking a little.
Charlie felt ashamed. “Alex, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I’d like to read now,” Alex said more sharply.
Charlie nodded. “Okay. Okay. See you tonight?”
Alex didn’t answer.
Peter was out on the Embankment, sitting on the cool grass, his blond hair whipping in the breeze. He offered Charlie the joint, but that was where he’d drawn the line. An occasional puff, now and then. But he wasn’t going to become a stoner, high at school in broad daylight. That last thin cord to his old life had still not yet snapped. But nonetheless, after a depressing encounter with Alex, Peter was a breath of fresh air, relaxed and carefree, windswept on the Embankment on a beautiful day.
“No, thanks,” Charlie said.
Peter smiled and shrugged.
“I think I just screwed up with Alex.”
“Alex? Are you joking? How’d you do with Mary?”
“She kissed me.”
Peter coughed, smoke puffing out.
“Good God, talk about burying the lede.”
Charlie told him about the encounter in the woods.
“So she just left after?”
“Yep. Walked right out into the field.”
“Well, that’s not awkward.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Have you seen her yet?”
“No. I think she’s walking halfway around the school to avoid it.”
“That assumes she cares. I’m betting at least half of this is in your head.”
“You’re a real pal, you know that?”
“Mm-hmm,” Peter said peacefully, dragging on his joint. “So, I asked Caitlyn Lacey to homecoming today.” He let the smoke trail up.
“Isn’t she dating Kurt?”
“Yup.”
“So why would you ask?”
“Why not? You’re hooking up with Mary Clark. Next thing you know, Vanhi’s going to be engaged to Rebecca Moore. The whole social order’s upside-down. Topsy-turvy.”
“What did she say?”
“She said no, of course. She’ll sleep with me in her car, but she won’t bring me home to Mother.”
“She slept with you?”
Peter nodded.
“When?”
He shrugged. “More than once.”
“You never told me that.”
“I don’t kiss and tell. Except now, I guess.” Peter smiled, but with a bitter edge. “I knew she’d say no. No big deal. Who cares about a stupid dance with a bunch of drones?”
“So why’d you ask her?”
Peter thought about it. “I wanted to hear her say no. To face her role in the Big Lie. Fine, she can have it both ways, dating Kurt for popularity when she really wants me. But it should sting a little.”
Charlie shook his head. “You are one disturbed dude.”
Peter smiled and took another drag. “So tonight. Tech Lab. Midnight. Don’t be late.”
“Did you learn about the invitation?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“What?”
“It’s a secret. You don’t want to spoil the surprise, do you?”
“I guess not.” Charlie heard the bell ring. “Time for school.”
“I find I do better when I don’t attend. Formal instruction clouds my vision.”
“Okay.”
“Hey, if you’re heading that way, can you give this to Zeke?”
Peter dug through his backpack and pulled out a crumpled brown baggie.
Zeke was on the far side of the Embankment, nearest the portable buildings, in the shadow of the redbrick wall of the gymnasium. His dirty-blond dreadlocks hung down like horse braids, beaded and scratchy. His head was on the lap of Monica Jameson, who seemed to have no qualms about braiding and playing with those messy dreads.
“What is it?”
“He gave me half his lunch yesterday. I forgot mine.”
“Sure,” Charlie said, feeling as soon as it slipped out that he should’ve said, instead, Show me. But it wasn’t as if Peter were a drug dealer. Aside from the occasional recreational pot smoking, Charlie had never seen Peter have anything to do with drugs. He did, in his private-school days, go to parties with rich kids and coke and prescription pills, but that was then and this was now. He’d been expelled from that world, and as far as Charlie could tell, Peter hadn’t looked back. Didn’t even see those kids anymore. Anyway. Charlie had already said yes, and what’s the worst anyone could say: You carried a paper bag with unknown contents from point A to point B, accepted no money, knew nothing, and it was probably just a bologna sandwich anyway? Let’s not make a capital offense out of it.
Plus, it was a beautiful, sunny day on the Embankment. Not an adult in sight. Chill out, Charlie, he told himself. The world does not revolve around you.
He grabbed the lunch bag from Peter and headed toward class.
When Charlie got near Zeke, he said, “Hey, from Peter.”
Zeke barely lifted his head but caught the bag. “Thanks, dude.”
“Sure.”
And that was that, and Charlie walked through the shadow of the red gym on his way to class.