Crank - 01 (16 page)

and the throb in my thighs

reminded me of the “new” me.

“But what about …”

Come on.

I’m not exactly chaste.

Chaste Chase?

A monster-fed

giggle tried to slip out.

I relegated

it to a tooth-baring grin.

You’re so beautiful

when you smile.

He kissed me then,

so sweetly, I truly

felt beautiful, despite

the ugliness

that would always remain.

No one can take you

from you, Kristina.

Tears slipped

from my eyes.

Chase absorbed

every one,

sponging up regret.

I promise never,

never to hurt you.

I wanted him to prove it.

Needed him to prove it.

“Make love to me.”

I could feel he wanted to.

I want to.

You know I do.

But not today.

Relief, Disappointment

A flash flood of love and a surge

of need so deep it went way beyond the monster.

“Please, Chase? I have to know

what it’s like when two people

really want to.”

And you will. I will take you to

heights you can’t imagine. But not

until you’ve healed.

I didn’t understand. Go ahead.

Call me dense. “It’s only a few

bruises, Chase.”

I meant not until you’re free

from dreams of yesterday.

When we make love, the only

people there should be you and me.

He was right. Adam lingered on

my nightstand. Brendan would

haunt me, a shadow, for days.

When you’ve vanquished your ghosts,

I’ll be here. Besides, sweetheart,

anticipation is half the fun.

I could only hope the other half

might one day be as wonderful.

With Chase, it seemed possible.

Meanwhile, I’d better go before

your parents get back. Want to

go outside for a smoke?

Soft drifts of nicotine filled my

lungs, soothing one hunger.

Chase held me close.

Funny thing, Kristina. Before you,

I believed love was making love.

Waiting only makes me

love you more.

Powerful Words

Strong

enough to latch on

to me, bear the weight and

lift

me, induce buoyancy,

float me in a brilliant, blue sky

above

the reach of personal demons.

So peaceful, in the canopy, beyond

distress

and self-incrimination. I wanted

to stay there forever.

Impossible

of course. Chase drove away

and almost immediately,

fantasy

dissolved, like sugar stirred

into saltwater, as the real

world

clamped down around me,

slammed me back down to Earth.

Tried to Beat Mom Inside

but she was right on my heels

as I went through the door.

Who is that boy who just left?

Busted. I had to tell her something,

so I said, “A friend.”

What
kind
of friend?

“My best friend,” I wanted to say.

“My only friend.” I just stared.

I asked you a question.

Okay. I’d tell her what she didn’t

want to hear. “Chase is my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend? He’s hardly your type.

Anger bubbled. I gritted my teeth.

“I don’t have a type, Mother.”

Well, at least someone good-looking.

Like Chase wasn’t, she meant.

And, “You mean like Brendan.”

Exactly. What happened to Brendan?

I was prepared. “We didn’t really

hit it off.” Understated, huh?

But he was so nice, so polite.

I tried to bite my tongue. Didn’t work.

“He wasn’t so nice, Mom.”

What do you mean?

“He was …” I paused, “all over me.”

She looked at me without sympathy.

Why didn’t you tell me before?

I took dead aim. “I didn’t think

you’d care. Apparently, I was right.”

Leveled

Have you ever actually felt one up

on your mom? What an

exhilarating feeling.

She stuttered, coughed, couldn’t say

a word because somewhere inside

she knew she was wrong.

So I pushed even harder. “You always told

me not to judge a book by its cover.

Practice what you preach, Mom.”

Two clichés don’t exactly make for deep

conversation, but I didn’t expect

that (or want it) anyway.

I started for my inner sanctum. Paused.

“I mean look at you and me. On

the surface, we both seem so normal!”

Her face contorted, emphasizing every wrinkle.

“Take a peek inside our family album.

Like what’s in there?”

Do you think that was mean? I guess, but

it felt so great, it made me grin.

Sort of sick, or what?

Light-Headed

Giddy from my absolute bluster

(not to mention lack of food

and a big dose of nicotine),

I skipped up the hall,

singing

a Queen

song about paying

dues and doing time, no

crime committed. Oh, that

Freddie Mercury. What a waste!

That guy was really something—a rebel and worse.

In a day when it was supposed

to be okay to experiment

that way. No condoms,

just good gay fun. We

know better now.

As I thought

about that, I had

to wonder: What will we

know better about tomorrow?

Who cares? Hindsight is useless.

Even looking back now, things seem a bit muddled.

Northern Nevada Autumns

are filled with weeds.

Toxic, high-allergen garden killers.

Tumbleweed.

Rabbitbrush.

Russian white top.

Guess how I spent that Sunday.

Wound up on Claritin

enhanced crank, it wasn’t

so bad.

Yank. Think.

Tug. Consider.

I would put Adam’s letter in the mail.

Water. Soak in.

Watch Mom and Scott

drive away.

Bribe Jake to help.

I would never tell another soul about Brendan.

Direct Jake to dump

the wheelbarrow.

Yank. Think.

Tug. Consider.

I would make love with Chase very soon.

Start to come down.

Disappear for a toot.

Notice my stash was two

snorts away from gone.

I would make a cash withdrawal the next day.

Help Jake finish up.

Send him to 7-Eleven

for Cokes and chips.

I would call Chase while he was gone.

No Answer

No sweat.

Okay, maybe

a little sweat.

If I couldn’t

get crank

from Chase

who could

I get it from?

I thought.

And thought.

And finally,

one person

came to mind.

I got on my bike,

pedaled over to

Trent’s, hoping

Robyn was home

and in the mood

to share some

information. Vital

information

to a person

desperate for

a new connection.

Timing Is Everything

Mine was impeccable that day.

Robyn answered the door,

quite noticeably strung.

Oh, hi. Trent’s not home.

He went into town with Mom.

“Cool. I wanted to see you.

Can I come in?”

I eased through the door.

I don’t know… um…

the house is a mess…

It was neat as a pin.

But it did smell like crank.

I suspected Trent wouldn’t

be home anytime soon.

What’s up, Kristina?

Can’t it wait till tomorrow?

“Relax. I’m not a narc.” I

reached into my pocket for the

semimutilated bindle. Robyn’s

pupils went all the way black.

I thought you’d lost some weight.

It’s better than the Atkins diet, huh?

“It’s a helluva lot more fun!”

We laughed and I offered to share

the last of my stash. “Have a mirror?”

Don’t tell me you’re still snorting.

Have you ever tried smoking it?

She was the first to even suggest it.

Robyn the Reno High cheerleader

proceeded to show me a whole new

way to get down with the monster.

We Went into Her Room

Locked the door. Sat on the bed.

Robyn produced a V of crusty foil,

tapped in the last crumbs of powder.

This little bit will go right to your

brain and won’t clog your sinuses.

Won’t stay there, draining, little by

little. Oh, no. You blow straight through

the roof in one giant puff of smoke.

It’s an awesome rush. And you won’t

stay awake for days.

She handed me the stub of a Slurpee

straw and showed me how to hold it

just above one end of the V.

When it starts to smoke, suck fast.

Hold it in as long as you can.

Robyn held a match just below the

yellow powder. It browned, bubbled,

smoked. A waft traveled up the V.

Here it comes. Don’t let it get away.

Oh, God, that smells good!

It tasted nasty. But it took me higher

than ever before. The monster

pirouetted in my brain.

My turn. Don’t hold the match too

close to the foil. Crank can burn.

In seconds, Robyn was flying. Instant

bonding. She didn’t even blink when

I asked if she could score.

You’ve got the money, I can get the crank.

For a small finder’s fee, of course.

I expected no less. We planned to

meet up the next day. I went home,

feeling better than I had in a long, long time.

She Forgot to Mention

a couple of

rather important things:

Like how, if you exercised

1(riding my bike, for instance),

your lungs fought to hold air.

I huffed and puffed

all the way home.

Like how, when you came down

(I had to eventually),

your head screamed with pain

and your body broke out

in panicky sweat.

Like how your little brother’s teasing

(irritating at the best of times),

would set you way off,

make you jump

off the deep end.

Like how parental concern

(inquiring minds wanted to know),

might suffocate you,

might confuse you,

might make you yell,

“Just leave me the fuck alone!”

This Time

it was Scott who asked for

the heart-to-heart. It was a

rather one-sided conversation.

May I come In, Kristina?

Can we talk?

He hated confrontation. I

could play the game two ways.

In-your-face. Or contrite.

What’s going on? Your mom and I

are worried about you.

I chose contrition. And feigned

ignorance. “What do you mean?”

He came right to the point.

It’s like you’ve become a whole

different person lately.

Not all of me. Just the Bree part.

Not all the time.

Just with the monster.

Did something happen

at your dad’s?

Like he wanted to hear about Dad.

Like he really wanted to know

he and Mom were 100% right on.

Don’t take this wrong, okay?

You aren’t doing drugs, are you?

What was I supposed to do—

admit it? I shook my head in

hearty denial.

I know adolescence is a time

for experimentation…

Oh, yes, he knew. And my mom did

too. Dad told me all about how they

used to get high together.

but I hope you’ll think twice before

you do. You’ve got a lot to lose.

I bit my lip, filled my eyes with

innocence, let it encourage tears.

“I know, Scott. I promise to think twice.”

He Talked at Me Awhile Longer

I smiled, nodded, apologized

for my foul temper and angry

words, protested when it

seemed I ought to and

somehow managed

to avoid

GUFN.

When he left, I patted myself on the

back for a game well played,

snitched open the door

and tiptoed down the

hall to eavesdrop

on the kitchen

conversation.

Mom and Scott believed

they’d bitten the bullet.

Little did they know

I hadn’t yet fired

off the full

round.

The Next Few Days