I'm with Stupid (10 page)

“Whoa,” I said. “I never check the honor roll.”

“Just in the paper yesterday, man,” Gus said.

“She's a jerk,” Maddie said. She poured a bunch of beer in her mouth, then burped really loud.

“I love you,” Gus said.

***

While Gus and Maddie ate frozen pizza, I sat on the couch staring at the door, waiting for Abby. I stared for a half hour maybe, without any beer, because I felt all floppy and nervous.

The doorbell rang.

“Oh my shit,” I said.

Gus and Maddie stared at the door.

Maddie said, “Here comes the prom king.”

I stood, walked slowly to the door, opened it. Abby wore a hoodie and sweatpants. She nodded at me. She said, “Give me a drink.”

Gus leapt off the couch and grabbed our last can of Hamm's out of the box. He held it up and smiled.

“Do you have anything else?” Abby asked.

“I can get anything,” Maddie said. “Anything you want.”

***

Ten minutes later, we rolled south of Bluffton. Abby drove her giant brown turd of a Buick that belches smoke, and I sat in the seat next to her. Gus and Maddie made out in the backseat.

Abby turned back and looked at them. She shook her head. I could tell she blushed a little. I stared at her like I did in first grade because Abby is a thing of rare freaking beauty and she always has been, to the point that no one will ask her out except Karpinski because she's just too damn much. Karpinski tried to kiss her at homecoming in the fall and she shoved him away, laughing. She also pointed in his face. “Not ever,” she told him.

Abby Sauter turned again. This time, she looked at me. She half smiled. “Staring, Reinstein.”

I nodded.

“You have something you need to say to me?” she asked. “You like me or something?”

My heart pounded in my throat. I wished I had another goat-piss beer. “I'm sorry Jerri and Terry are an item,” I said.

“Oh,” Abby nodded. “Don't worry about it,” she said.

We drove on.

***

“Here! Turn here!” Maddie shouted.

Abby's car slid onto a gravel road. We rolled into a valley near Big Patch. I'd never been there. I thought I knew every place around Bluffton.

“It's about a mile,” Maddie said.

The bluffs around us were steep. The road was muddy. Deep, dark country. Maddie's brother Cal lives in an old schoolhouse in the middle of absolute nowhere.

Abby's crappy car radio kept fuzzing out, so we couldn't hear the music.

“Can't even get Dubuque,” Abby said.

“Good. You listen to shit,” Maddie barked.

“Really?” Abby asked. “Why?”

“KLYV is just a bunch of packaged plastic. There's no lyrical depth. No real emotion,” Gus said.

“Nothing except pulsing groinage,” Maddie said.

“What's wrong with that?” Abby asked.

“Good point!” Gus said. He reached over the car seat and slapped me on the back of my head.

“I like groins,” I said.

“Here!” Maddie shouted. “This driveway! Right! Right!”

Abby fishtailed onto an even smaller drive.

“Where are we?” Abby whispered.

“I don't know.”

“What's with your face?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said. My face burned though. Blushing about groins.

***

A few football fields into the woods, we came to the old schoolhouse. There were old pieces of cars lying around and a red tractor parked on a concrete slab.

When we parked, Maddie said, “My brother Cal is a weird dude, but he's nice. Just enjoy, because you won't meet dudes like this on your planet.”

“My planet?” I asked.

“She's talking to me,” Abby said.

“And your boyfriend,” Maddie said.

“Felton isn't my boyfriend,” Abby said.

“That's not what he told me,” Maddie said.

“Shut up, Maddie,” I said.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gus said. “Somebody needs a drink.”

***

Maddie didn't even knock. She walked right in. We all followed her. Inside, a balding 30-year-old with a big blond beard sat at the kitchen table working a drill. He wore a dirty A Tribe Called Quest T-shirt. He squinted down at his hands. He screwed two large pieces of metal together.

“Excuse me, sir,” Maddie barked.

Cal looked up, startled. He stopped the drill. “Why are you here, baby girl? The kids are with their mom this weekend. I don't need you.”

“We're here for the bar, Cal.”

Cal's eyes exploded out of his head. “
Holy
shit!
” he shouted. “Mr. Traitor Footballs and Junior Miss McBluffton? What the hell are you two doing at my house?”

He was referring to me and Abby.

“Just with Maddie,” I said.

“Dude, that was hardcore what you did on the TV. Woo!” he started laughing his ass off. “Picking up that Badger hat. Man! You've got a couple of pumpkins for testicles, dude.”

“It was an accident,” I mumbled.

“Bull. Shit. I was watching. That was a badass joke. Seriously.”

“I wish it was a joke. Stupid cheeseheads,” I said.

“Right on, man,” Cal said.

“How the hell do you know about Felton and Abby?” Maddie shouted at him. “You like keeping up with the popular kids, you pervert?”

“I get the
Bluffton
Journal
. I have a TV. I want to know what I'm missing. Otherwise, what's the point of hiding out?” Cal said.

“Junior Miss what?” I whispered to Abby.

“Nothing. I won a scholarship last fall, that's all.”

“Bar's in the barn, dudes. Head on back. Maybe I'll see you in a little bit. I've got to get some work done first,” Cal said.

“Hey, man,” Gus said, going past.

“Nice haircut. Good to see you, brother.” Cal fist-bumped him.

“What's he working on?” I asked as we climbed through a dark little hall filled with stripped motorcycle frames and buckets of screws.

“He's building an airplane,” Maddie said. “He's going to fly to Mexico.”

Abby pinched my arm. She smiled huge.

***

The house was an explosion of metal and tools. The yard was a freaking scrap heap with piles of old bikes and toy trucks, toy bulldozers, and other assorted crap. The “barn” (more like a big shed), though, was totally clean and beautiful. There was a full bar with stools and neon lights and a giant moose head hung on the wall. (Maddie later told me it was a deer head, but it looked like a moose head to me.) Christmas lights were strung all over the walls. A little heater pumped out heat. There were shelves and shelves of old records along one end of the room and a turntable hooked up to a giant sound system.

“Wow,” Abby said.

“Pretty awesome, right?” Gus said.

“You can tell what Cal loves most, huh? Not his kids. Not his airplane. Booze,” Maddie said. “Let's do some shots.”

Gus and Maddie went behind the bar and started arguing about what liquor we should drink.

“Uh, really, I don't like to drink,” Abby said.

“I remember one time,” I said without thinking.

“You do?” she asked.

“Yeah…yeah…”
Just
say
it.
“I, uh, got this text from you.”

“Oh,” Abby said. “That was dumb. That's why I don't like Jess that much.” She walked away from me and sat down on this giant beanbag chair in the corner.

“That thing is called a Love Sac,” Gus shouted to her.

“Great,” Abby said.

***

An hour later, Maddie was on fire. She was telling Abby about all the people she considers to be bitches and asswipes. Drunkass Abby would sort of protest or whatever, but really, Maddie just wanted to shout.

“No. Carly Bennett is a bitch,” Maddie said. “She calls me Zitty Cat.”

“That's very dumb,” Abby said.

“I had a zit one time. A big one on my nose,” Maddie said.

“That happens.” Abby nodded.

“It's never happened to you,” Maddie said.

“No,” said Abby.

“Carly's brother is worse. Ryan Bennett punched Felton's brother in the chest so hard, Andrew couldn't breathe.”

“
He
did?
” I shouted. “Ryan? When?” Ryan was the kid Andrew mentioned when I asked him who might've bullied Curtis Bode.

“When Andrew was in seventh grade,” Maddie said, shaking her head.

“I should kill Ryan Bennett,” I said.

“Nolan hangs out with him. He's been at my house a lot,” Abby said.

“Nolan is a total dick too. You know that, right?” Maddie said. “Your brother is the worst jerk in the freshman class.”

“He's mad at my dad. That's what our therapist says,” Abby said.

“I'm mad at my dad, but I don't knock anyone's head on the ground,” Maddie barked.

“No, I mean really sad because Dad barely talks to us. Dad doesn't like us.”

“Oh,” Maddie said, nodding. “I get it.”

“It's very bad,” Abby said. “Things are bad.”

“Is that why you blew your grade point?” Gus asked.

“I'm not going to graduate first in class. You are,” Abby said, nodding.

“Are you okay?” Gus asked.

Abby set her drink down on the bar. She shook her head. “Dude,” she said. She pointed in Gus's face. “You're the first person to ask. Jess hasn't asked,” she slurred. “Cody hasn't asked.” She pointed over at me. “Felton is in his weird Felton bubble all the time,” Abby said. “But I'm not okay. I don't know what's wrong with me,” she said.

“I'm sorry,” Maddie said, “But if you people weren't so mean to everyone all the time, maybe we'd care, maybe we'd give Nolan a hug instead of wishing he'd die.”

“You people?” Abby asked.

“You and all your people.” Maddie nodded.

“How are they my people?”

“You're all brutal. Plus, you volleyball girls all look alike,” Maddie said.

“Racist,” Abby whispered.

“Against asshole jocks?” Maddie shouted.

“Apparently,” Abby said, nodding.

***

Ten minutes later, Maddie and Abby were hugging and crying. I'm not kidding. Gus and I sat on the Love Sac, watching their exchange and listening to music—some dude named Perry Como singing 1950s Christmas songs.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

“What if they start making out?” Gus asked. “I don't know how I'd feel about that.”

“I really like them both,” I said. “Those are two good women.”

“Here's to that. I need to make a toast,” Gus said. He stood up and lifted a bottle of beer over his head. “
You! All of you
,” he shouted. “A toast.”

Maddie and Abby let go of each other and turned toward him.

“I love you,” Gus slurred. “Maddie, you are the best girlfriend who has lived in this place. In this world. Abby. Felton has loved you since before you were born to the local orthodontist.”

“How embarrassing,” Maddie said. “He's never said anything?”

Abby shook her head.

“To both of you,” Gus cried.

“Cheers,” Abby said. Then she sucked down more of that black liquid.

It's true. That Abby is top notch. A top-notch lady.

I rolled off the Love Sac and walked up to the bar. I grabbed Abby around the waist and pulled her up to me. Our faces were inches apart. I had to close my left eye not to go cross-eyed and lose my balance. I could feel Abby's heart banging against my chest through her sweatshirt.

“I've never kissed anybody,” Abby whispered.

“Oh my God!” Maddie screamed. “Are you made of plastic?”

“I don't think so,” Abby said. “Just…never happened.”

“Okay,” I said. “I have loved you since before your dad ever fixed a tooth. I do. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Abby breathed out slow, the sweet smell of her breath made my damn legs weak. “Okay. Good. I want you to kiss me,” Abby said.

We kissed. It was okay. I'd only kissed Aleah before (and I loved that). Abby felt different. She felt cool. She tasted sort of like licorice and ice cream.

We kissed more.

“Woo!” Gus and Maddie cried.

“That's okay. That's not too bad,” Abby said. “Right?”

“Yeah. I liked it,” I said.

***

“You used to call Felton a fur ball!” Gus shouted at Abby.

“No. Jess did,” Abby said. “I called him other stuff.”

We all leaned on the bar. We drained that black liquid from the bottle. The floor moved underneath my feet. The Christmas lights blazed in my eyeballs. Perry Como sang about Santa Claus.

“Pig Boy has it worse. Don't you understand? I'm lucky. It's bullshit, mothers. Pig Boy is never going to turn out to be big,” I shouted.

“Stop talking about him. He's not the only one in the world,” Gus said.

“His brother shot himself,” I barked.

“I know, I know,” Gus said.

“Wait. Shh. Before I pissed off the State of Wisconsin, Pig Boy emailed me to tell me that he knows who killed his brother,” I said.

“Someone killed Curtis?” Maddie asked, her eyes wide. “Curtis didn't kill Curtis?”

“That's what Pig Boy said.”

“Oh shit, I hope it wasn't Nolan,” Abby said.

“Jocks think they can just slam everyone's body around and it won't hurt.” I slammed my hand on the bar. The bottles and glasses jumped. “It's like everyone is just a damn beach ball to kick,” I said.

“You're a jock,” Abby said. “You're the biggest jock in the world.”

“No he's not,” Gus said. “Felton is a geek in jock pants.”

“The football players at the colleges I visited wanted to kick me like a beach ball,” I said, nodding.