After Dakota Part 33

"I told you to mind your own business," Claire tells him.

The tingling of Cameron's cheek rages on. "Why are you with him, Claire? Why are you being like this?"

"Like what? You don't know anything about me. Go drive your big car and hang out with your pretty girlfriend. None of it matters anyways."

He realizes he's still holding his cheek long after she's gone to the parking lot and the bystanders have lost interest.

100.

Claire sits in one of the white puffy chairs in Pastor Gary's office, having been shuttled there in her mom's car straight from school. Gary wears a plaid s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves rolled up, like he's some regular guy. He sits in the chair next to her. "Your mother told me about what happened." His voice the same low, steady volume as always. "I once rode in a police car and I'll tell you what, I was scared out of my wits."

"What did you do?" she asks.

"My friends and I thought it would be funny to set off some firecrackers in our neighbor's barn. He was a mean ol' guy, always yelling at us if we even set one foot on his property to fetch a ball or something. Mr. Levi. So we snuck in at night and piled 'em all right in the middle, figuring he'd hear it and come running with his shotgun. What d'you think happened?"

"It's your story."

"Fire. His horses went crazy and broke out. The whole barn went up, you could probably see it from three towns over. When the police found the used-up firecrackers, they came and rounded us up, took us down the station. That black and white car drove slow right through the middle of town so everyone saw me in the back. My daddy let me sit in jail for a whole day before he came and got me out. Scariest day of my life."

When he isn't talking, Claire listens to the absolute silence of the room. Silent enough she can hear her own heartbeat. She's never been this close to Gary before, the way he's leaning toward her. His cheeks are gouged with old acne scars.

"After that we spent every weekend for two months rebuilding Mr. Levi's barn. I was so grateful not to have to go back to jail I would've rebuilt the whole house if I'd been told to. I knew G.o.d had seen my actions, but I also knew He had seen into my heart." He pauses. "What would G.o.d see in your heart, Claire?"

Is he equating stealing hair dye with burning down a barn?

"You caused your family a lot of pain," he says. He takes her hand in his, like a whale swallowing a little fish. "I know you're confused, sweetie, but you have people all around who love you and want to help, if only you'll let them. You also have the biggest cheerleader of all watching out for you you know who that is, don'tcha?"

She knows what he wants to hear. If she says that word, that syllable, she may be free to go.

"I don't think I believe in G.o.d" is what comes out.

He keeps ahold of her hand. "Why would you say that?"

"I cut an article out of the newspaper," she says, "About a little baby born without a brain. It lived for a few minutes, long enough for its parents to meet it, then died. I keep imagining that tiny baby it didn't do anything to deserve that. What d'you think G.o.d would say if you asked Him why?"

"Claire, terrible things happen all around us, every day. There isn't always an explanation. We all have to remember that this world of pain and suffering is only temporary, and we have to trust that He will make it all right in the end."

"Then why don't we all just kill ourselves if the next life is so much better?"

"Because He gave each of us the precious gift of life, and it's for Him to take away when the time comes." He smiles. "Don't worry, Heaven's not going anywhere."

"Bulls.h.i.+t." The room goes even quieter in the next moments, like neither of them is sure she said the word. A minute ago, an expression of doubt. Now, there's no turning back.

"Claire. I do not appreciate that kind "

"Bull. s.h.i.+t." Saying it to an adult makes her tongue feel electric, like anything could come out next. "I don't know if you really believe what you're telling me or if you say it because it's your job and all. Like all those stories in Sunday school about how G.o.d loves us. Did He love that little baby? Did He love that two-year-old girl in Las Cruces who died from... what's it called... leukemia? How about the girl who went to build houses for poor people and got killed in a plane crash? If that girl had like stayed home and partied and had s.e.x, she'd still be alive, y'know?"

Color blooms under his acne scars. Claire sits on her hands but can still feel them shake.

"We're all alone. It's, like, so obvious. The world is a messed up place and you either have good luck or you're screwed."

Gary swallows twice before talking. "I see that you have a lot of pain in your heart, and you're speaking from that pain. This isn't the Claire I've known here at church." He closes his eyes. "O, Lord, I ask that you guide this young lady "

"Stop it." She stands, backs away from him toward the door. "You're talking to no one. You can waste your time, but I don't have to stay here anymore." She half expects him to come toward her and... what? Chain her in the church dungeon? He stays seated.

She and her mom drive home as the after-work traffic thickens on the roads. Claire tries to count how many days she has left not in the school year, but until she turns eighteen and can get out. Bryce is so lucky, except that UNM won't be far enough away for Claire. She needs a place where she can go and never come back.

She's gotten to sixty-eight days when they pull into the empty parking lot of Sunset Mesa elementary school. Across the street is Kim's Tae Kwon Do, where she once sat on the floor and watched Bryce break a board with his foot; he seemed like the coolest brother in the whole world back then.

Her mom takes a Kleenex from her purse. "I don't want things to be this way in our family," she says, wiping her nose. "This is silly."

Upcoming events on the school sign: BOOK FAIR; KINDERGARTEN GRADUATION; FIFTH GRADE GRADUATION.

"All I want," she goes on in a shaky voice, "Is for you kids to have a better life than what your father and I have had. Right now I'm at the end of my rope trying to keep things together."

Claire has the sense of the car getting smaller heartbeat by heartbeat, like soon they'll be so close to each other they'll be touching. Like the car will squish them into one person.

Her mom blows her nose again. "If you're not careful, you make certain choices that you can't go back from."

The quiet afterwards is long enough that Claire steals a glance over, to make sure her mom is still awake. She is she stares out the winds.h.i.+eld, toward the portables where Claire's dad came for career day and told the cla.s.s about working as an airline pilot and pa.s.sed out little gold wings to every kid.

There seems something more to be said here, hanging in the car with them. But neither of them knows what.

101.

The day Cameron gets slapped by Zaplin is the day Bryce sees the Star Trek episode t.i.tle he's been waiting for: "Arena." He says, "Yes!" aloud. Bryce has the house to himself and watches in bliss as Captain Kirk goes hand-to-hand with the man-sized lizard creature.

The day of the Gorn is the day Bryce gets two envelopes in the mail.

The first envelope contains an autographed photo of Heather Locklear, with a typed, official-looking note inviting him to join her fan club. Alas, no response to his invitation.

The second envelope is from the Art Inst.i.tute of Chicago.

Dear Bryce. Happy to offer. Obvious talent. Welcome.

Wait, what? Double check to make sure it's legit and not some clever joke (though he can't think of anyone who could execute a clever joke). Real. All real.

He looks up at the ceiling and says, "Thank you."

The day of the Gorn and the mail is the day Bryce shares his good news at dinner. "I applied to the Art Inst.i.tute of Chicago and I got accepted for the fall."

Claire s.h.i.+fts Hamburger Helper around on her plate. His parents look at each other, then at him. "Where did this idea come from?" his dad asks.

"Art's been my favorite thing for years, Dad. You know that."

"Which is why you'll look into a minor in art," his mom says.

"Why minor in it when I could study it full time?"

"So all those other schools we applied to were just a waste of time and money." The way his dad words it isn't a question.

"Don't you guys care what I want?"

"We care that you don't throw your life away," his mom replies. "There's a difference between a hobby and something you can make a career out of."

His dad says, "UNM is a good school. I would've been proud to go there."

"I'm not you!" Bryce screeches like a girl. He goes downstairs and gets in bed, clothes still on. They wouldn't have acted that way if he had cancer oh, the looks on their faces. He almost wishes he had the chance to ambush them with the news.

He pulls the covers all the way up to make a cave, a coc.o.o.n, an escape pod.

102.

Cameron shows up to work the Friday night s.h.i.+ft, still replaying the Zaplin incident in his head. He shouldn't have backed down; he should've fought back. But fighting Zaplin wouldn't be the same as yelling at golden-haired Mrs. Gordon.

Victor's first words upon seeing him in the kitchen: "Dayummmm, I heard Ricky kicked someone's a.s.s at school."

"It wasn't an a.s.s kicking, it was a slap."

A typical busy Friday night means Cameron needs Victor in the kitchen and can't a.s.sign him some s.h.i.+t detail like rearranging the freezer. They stand side-by-side on the pizza a.s.sembly line, Victor humming "Another One Bites the Dust" or saying, "Pow!" as he sprinkles on toppings.

The clicking of the order tickets, the distant music, Victor's chatter it all becomes a symphony to make Cameron's eyeb.a.l.l.s throb. How does it happen that Dakota is gone while douchebags like Zaplin and Victor get to go on living? She was worth more than both of those guys combined, plus any kids and grandkids they'll ever have (G.o.d help us).

"Sorry, my boss is here tonight," Cameron lies when Nate Gardner and his friends come in looking for complimentary pizza or tokens. "Actually, that's not true I'm just tired of you guys coming in to mooch. We're not even friends at school. You only talk to me so I'll give you stuff for free." They seem to have trouble processing this, so he adds, "If you're not gonna pay for your food, leave."

They do, right as a bald guy comes up to get his hot dog, looks at it and says, "That's it?"

Cameron almost shouts, "This is a pizza restaurant! If you want a hot dog, go to Wienerschnitzel!"

After that, even though none of the toppings need to be refilled, he steps inside the freezer, shuts the door behind him, and sits next to the crates of shredded cheese. Life might not be so bad as an Eskimo.

When Cameron gets up a little after 11:00 on Sat.u.r.day morning, he can't remember dreaming. Finally a night without a plane crash.

103.

Claire sits in the living room while their dad straightens Bryce's tuxedo and tells him how to reach in through his zipper if his s.h.i.+rt billows out. Their mom circles the scene, taking a whole roll of pictures; Claire abstains from offering any photo advice, even when her mother shoots directly into the lamp. Obviously a day no one in the house ever thought they'd see. For once, there's no yelling about art school; they must've called a truce for the evening.

After Bryce leaves to go pick up Noel, Claire goes to her room to wait.

Tonight is Karon and Sharon Longerot's sleepover birthday party; Claire RSVP'd back when the invitation came but all along thought it didn't sound like fun, going to a party where she'll be a stranger. Now that she's a prisoner here it doesn't matter anyway.

After her parents have gone to bed or rather, her mom has fallen asleep while reading Hollywood Wives in bed, while her dad lies conked out on the couch Claire climbs out the window. The rhododendron cus.h.i.+ons enough of her fall that all she gets is a scratch across the forehead. Her dad's spare car key is right where it always is: in the little magnetic holder under the b.u.mper. She opens the trunk and has her bike halfway out when a better idea lands. Starting the car is safe enough; all ears are at the back side of the house and won't hear the engine.

Claire backs down the driveway and all the way out the dark cul-de-sac.

104.

So improbable is Bryce actually being here, in a tux, in this ballroom, at prom, that at any moment the hotel authorities could realize he's wandered into a party at which he doesn't belong. They'll offer him the choice of the easy way or the hard way before escorting him outside, each of them holding one of his arms, his feet pedaling the air. He'll explain that, no, he's here legitimately, that Noel hadn't given up on him when he found her at church. That she said, "I would love to" the second he finished asking the question, like she'd been waiting.

In the meantime, to prevent sensory overload to hold on to some semblance of sanity his brain becomes a camera, breaking the whole event into snapshots: Noel looks way different, made up and without her gla.s.ses (though Bryce wishes her dress showed more leg and cleavage).

The dance floor is so crowded during the fast songs that you can barely move, which is a good thing in Bryce's eyes since that kind of moving is not something he's well-equipped for.

Beth Stevens and her date stay on the dance floor, lips locked no matter what song comes on, an egg carton-sized corsage on her wrist.

Amazing how girls normally rated mid-scale rise when all dressed up. Where has Zoe Wallace been keeping that body hidden?

Mr. Buckland's blue frilly tuxedo doesn't look like the thing a former rocker should be wearing.

Cam's girlfriend, non-girlfriend, girlfriend again looks like a movie star. A high eight, maybe even a nine. In hindsight, Bryce would've ditched himself to hang out with her. Certain gestures of hers, certain angles, remind him of someone but he can't place who.

Where did the prom committee find a DJ named Cocoa Puff?

Mr. Collier lurks near the punch bowl to make sure no one spikes it (or to spike it himself).

Bryce and Cam stand together while their dates are in line for the bathroom. "We finally made it to prom," Bryce says. "Unbelievable."

"I wonder how many of these people we'll never see again after we graduate," Cam replies.

"Hopefully most."

"There's always the reunions. 1994. 2004."

Bryce says, "You can come from California in your flying car. Tell me how it goes."

"Please, like you won't show up."

"I'll probably be living in a moon colony by then I don't wanna travel that far just to see which chicks have gotten fat."

Two football players, who look like they're about to Hulk out of their tuxes, walk up. "Are you the dude who threw the desk at Mrs. Gordon?" one of them asks Cam.

"Uh, I just yelled at her. No desk throwing."

"Nice job, man." They both slap him five and tell their own horror stories: detention, campus cleanup.

When they move on, Cam grins and says, "Life is pretty good."

Bryce knows exactly what to do when a slow song plays (thank you, American Bandstand). He and Noel rock side to side to Journey's "Faithfully." She's a head taller than him, his ear against her collarbone, her heart keeping time with the drum.

He knows to remember this moment, that this might be the one he thinks about on his deathbed. However close at hand, or far in the future, that is.

Yes, life is pretty good.