Swing State (8 page)

14.

I
DITCHED AFTER NINTH PERIOD TO
get a bike and see Gary.

He's older than Don. That didn't stop him from staring at my tits.

He seemed surprised when I told him I already applied. He went what did you say your name was again? Then I told him and he said oh, okay, I didn't realize.

He took out a huge stack of applications and looked through. When he found mine he said nice resume and I said thanks. Then he said when can you start, Dixon Dove? I said whenever you want. He asked what my availability was and I said after school and weekends. He said he'd give me a call if there were any openings.

* * *

Mr. Merrill gave me a bunch of shit for not doing the reading. Whatever. It's like, who the fuck cares what a bunch of made-up people in a story do, anyway? It's not like Burger Hut will call back because of that stuff.

But Don was sitting on his fat ass today when I got home and he said you better from that virus? I hadn't seen him since Saturday. He said what did you learn and I said what? He goes what did you learn from being hungover?

Without thinking I said I need to hide it better.

He stood up and said that is exactly what I'm talking about. I was like calm down, Don, and he said I will not calm down. Not with you making an ass of yourself at a game in front of recruiters.

I guess I should've known.

So I said okay, I'll remember to take it easy and he hit me. I fell down.

He goes you remember that. And this, too: your brother thinks he wants to go to Nebraska, and the recruiters flew out here to watch him again, you understand that? Scouts don't fly for nothing. Especially to a shitty town like Armbrister, you hear me? I started to say yeah, Armbrister's pretty shitty, but I thought he'd hit me again. Or kick me, maybe.

I said I hear you.

He goes so we're at the game after we both got time off to watch your brother play the game of his life when his teenage sister staggers out of the crowd shitfaced. You understand that?

I said yeah.

He goes yeah, what?

Yeah, I understand.

He said I bet you don't remember a lot from that night.

He's right, too. I hate that. But he is.

He said you're hanging out with a bunch of boys, getting loaded. You're gonna wind up knocked up. And you know who will have to support your slutty ass? Me, that's who.

Without thinking about it I said you don't support shit. I saw him get mad but I had enough time to move before he tried to kick me. I rolled across the floor. That made him even madder. I was like my mom supports you, and you think my brother's gonna support you when he goes pro.

He kinda took a running kick at me. I could feel all the air leave when his foot hit. How is a guy who spends all his time on the couch so fast?

He said listen, you little shit. You're not gonna talk to me like that.

I couldn't breathe.

If you had discipline in your life you wouldn't talk to me like that. You'd respect your elders.

I still couldn't breathe. I could feel his foot in my stomach and his handprint across my face.

I tried to talk and nothing came out a bunch of times. When something did I said I'm gonna tell my mother.

He didn't look scared. He said grow the fuck up, Dixon. Take some responsibility. You fucked up.

You kicked me.

You fucked up, he said. If your brother doesn't get into Nebraska because of you it'll get even worse. You understand?

What was he gonna do, kick me out? He'd be doing me a favor.

And just because your mother won't discipline you doesn't mean I won't. And she knows that already.

* * *

The bike was behind the house the whole time Don was kicking my ass. I kept thinking about how he'd hit me more for having it. But he didn't know.

I grabbed the M-80s and Silver Salutes and put them in my bag on my way out the door.

First I biked over to the Pines. I was hoping Mary would be there. She wasn't. No one was. I think maybe no one is except for nights and weekends. Every time I go there are more butts and broken bottles. I looked around for a roach but couldn't find one.

I went into one of the houses and lit a Silver Salute but I didn't really care. I knew what was gonna happen. Same as always. An M-80, too. I taped them, but I erased it.

So instead I biked to the supermarket. There were more empty parking spaces there than I thought.

I checked door handles and they were all open. I got all kinds of stuff: a GPS, an iPhone, and an iPad! I never had one of those before. It's cool-looking. And the best part is I found a purse. Like a whole purse, just sitting there. If you're going shopping, why would you leave your purse in the car? It makes no sense. But they did. Or, she did. Jocelyn O'Donohugh. That's the name on the card. I also got sixty bucks.

From there I went to the L'il Bee to see if Ding was there. He wasn't.

I didn't want to take the bike home again because of Don, so I took it to school and thought I'd walk home.

But on the way back I saw Mary leaving.

She said hey, what are you doing? I said just going for a walk. She said do you wanna get high? and I said yeah, so we went down to the L'il Bee and back up the quarry path.

She said let's stop at the hearse.

We passed her joint back and forth on the way up there. She was talking about school. I said do you wanna see something cool? She said okay. I got out an M-80 and her eyes got all big. She asked me where I got it, and I told her I know a guy. She laughed and said who? All mysterious-like I was like I can't tell you. I laughed. She did, too.

When we got to the hearse I asked where we should light it off. She said maybe in here and held up a Poweraid bottle. It had a wide mouth. I was like that's perfect. I lit the M-80 and dropped
it into the bottle. We hid behind the hearse, watching when it blew up and shredded the bottle. All that was left was the top and bottom. She laughed and grabbed my hand when it went off and asked if I had any more. I did. She let go of my hand and we looked for another bottle. There weren't any more in the hearse or on the ground, just broken glass.

She said what about the hearse?

We decided on under the hood. We both had to lift it because it was heavy and kinda rusted shut.

I lit another one and put it on the engine, which was hard because I could only use one hand because the hood was so heavy, and we dropped it shut.

I thought it might go out, but it went off with a noise that sounded even louder than usual. The hood kinda poofed out a little.

We both laughed and laughed. She said that was awesome and hugged me.

I could hear myself talking without knowing what I was gonna say next. I was telling her that my guy has all kinds of cool shit and I went down to the Pines to blow things up. Boards and stuff. You could see scorch marks on wood. She said every time we come to the hearse from now on we'll remember today when we see the hood. Even though I don't want to remember fucking Don kicking me.

I started telling Mary but I got off track and told her I was tired of living at my mom's and I wanted to drop out and get a job but my mom's boyfriend would kick my ass if I did. She said I wanna drop out, too. School's stupid. She said I could sleep on her brother's couch. He delivers pizzas. Sometimes he buys her beers. I said that's cool. Who else has a place? She said Steve and Earl. It's awesome. Gross, though. Like they never clean and
there's always beer cans everywhere. Arnold has one, too. Same thing. Why can't boys ever clean up?

She started laughing. So did I.

She kinda put her hand on my side where Don kicked me. I jumped back and she said oh, I'm sorry I thought and I was like no, it's not that and pulled my shirt up. The bruise looked pretty gross and she made a noise and said that's horrible, who did that to you? I told her my mom's boyfriend. She touched it really soft and said that's terrible and kinda leaned in and then we were kissing.

I wanted to be like I'm not a dyke. But I liked it. I like her. I want her to like me.

So we kissed for a while, with tongue and everything, and I felt around under her shirt even though I was like whoa, maybe I am a dyke.

She said are you okay? and I was like yeah. Then without thinking I was like I have some shit to show you and went in my bag. She said more fireworks? I pulled out the iPad. She said oh, cool, I didn't know you had one of those. I was like I didn't, until an hour ago. She said what? and I told her about getting what I can to help move out. About the supermarket parking lot. She said I never did that and I was like it's easy. She asked me if I ever worry about fingerprints. I told her no. I never thought of that. I should wipe door handles. Or get some gloves.

She said she should get going. She went over to the hood and rubbed her hand across the bump where the M-80 was.

When we went back to the L'il Bee Ding was there. I was like my guy is here and she said that guy? and started laughing. I was like what? and she said never mind, see you at school. And she left. I wanted to ask her when I would see her again but I didn't.

I got in Ding's car.

He said was that you a while ago?

I said I don't know what you're talking about but I started laughing. I couldn't help it. He asked who else was back there and I said Mary Hawkins. He said how was her shit? I said good. He asked if I wanted some shit better than hers. I said no, I wanted money. He kinda sat up and said what do you have in mind? and I went into my bag and got the phone.

Oh, he said.

I was like yeah, I got this and some other stuff. Check it out. Then I took out the iPad. I saved the credit card for last.

He said the thing about cards is they get reported stolen fast. Like right when a person notices. You can fill your tank or get some beer but it's not like you can use it for more than that.

He said I should throw it down a drain.

I asked how much for everything and he said let's see. You sure you don't want some real good shit? Or fireworks?

I said I told you, cash.

You in trouble?

I said I was saving to move.

He said let me know if you ever wanna make some real money.

15.

H
E STANDS WEARING A MICROPHONE, THIN
in a pinstripe suit and smiling, the youngest in history. His success—both writing and hosting his own smash game show—is marveled over by the American public. Who knew such a talent could originate in, of all places, a depressed New Hampshire mill town?

“Welcome back to
Love Balloon!
I'm your host, Zack Fox.”

A panning shot of the live studio audience, cheering wildly.

“Our ten remaining contestants have a difficult challenge today.”

Five of the men stand on the floor, the other five on risers. Zack Fox stands between them and a screen bearing the face of an attractive blonde woman.

She speaks: “I don't think I'm hard to please, but I know what I like. And it's a blend of indoor and outdoor activities.”

Cut to the contestants, nodding.

“So, your challenge today will test your skills and memory. The winner will be awarded five hundred points.”

The contestants look at each other, smiling. Five hundred points! This challenge is the most valuable one so far.

Cut to a close-up of a guy who looks like a soccer striker. He sits in front of the TV show's heart-shaped balloon logo. He says,
“Five hundred points! I'll be able to outbid anyone. Best square, here I come!”

Cut to a close-up of a normal, heavy-set guy in front of the same logo. He's wearing a plain T-shirt. Strikers don't have acne like he does, or big thick glasses. He says to the camera, “If I win five hundred points I can wait until the first batch of contestants burns through their points buying single squares and then get the leftovers inexpensively.”

“Contestants,” Zack Fox says back at the studio, between the screen and the contestants, “are you ready for your next
Love Balloon
challenge?” The crowd cheers as the men nod and yell, “YEAH!”

The show's theme music plays as the contestants form a line.

“Your challenge,” Zack Fox says, “is to answer Jenna's questions correctly, using these weighted balls to do so.” Here Zack Fox holds one up; it is bright, and slightly larger than a softball. “For each question you answer correctly—by throwing a ball into the correct bucket—you will earn five points. The contestant with the most points will win five hundred. In the event of a tie, the contestants may elect to split the pot, or have a tiebreaker. The three contestants with the lowest points total will face elimination.”

“Are we ready?”

Again, everyone yells, “YEAH!”

“Love Balloon
contestants—begin!”

The first man stands in line facing a row of baskets. Each has its own label: fish, chicken, beef, tofu, salad.

Zach Fox stands straddling a stripe on the floor. “The first toss is Jenna's favorite food. Jenna's favorite food, first toss.”

Viewers remember that the interview with Jenna, the blonde woman, is a replay from a previous episode. She says, “I try to be
very aware of my weight. I was heavy in high school, then managed to get my eating habits under control. Men never used to give me the time of day, but now they pay attention. I managed to get thin because I exercised and ate a lot of fish.”

The first contestant, who looks like a striker/underwear model, stands at the line holding a ball. The crowd roars choices at him.

“Jenna looks good,” he says. “She's really fit. I don't think she got that way by eating beef.”

The crowd cheers.

“I'm gonna say it's lean protein that got her to where she is . . . chicken!”

He throws a ball.

Wait a minute, Zachariah Tietz thinks.

The ball hangs suspended in midair.

It's a good challenge. The strikers won't remember the details the same way as regular guys, who pay more attention. He doesn't know what the strikers think about. Like Rick, once his friend, who hadn't acknowledged him since the soccer field accident. If everyone looked past him the same way Rick did, Zachariah thinks, he wouldn't have to eat lunch in the handicapped bathroom.

Even if the ball missed its intended target of chicken, it might still go in the fish bucket, and give the striker five points.

What else could he do? For a game show to succeed, action had to be included. Physical challenges would keep people watching. But they had to be fair.

A million dollars was a huge prize. And Jenna was a pretty woman. He imagined himself winning the prize and getting to the second season. It was hard for him to conceive of such a thing, in the same way, he imagined, the other normal guys on the show would have a hard time believing their good fortune if
they won. He thought the underwear models and strikers wouldn't appreciate what they had, the same way Rick didn't.

And Zachariah knew he couldn't assume the strikers would forget everything Jenna said. Some of them were probably pretty smart. Rick could remember numbers in a way he couldn't—batting averages, home runs, that sort of thing. Of course, Zachariah wasn't much of a baseball fan. But he did love baking, and couldn't remember how many quarts were in a gallon, or teaspoons in a tablespoon. If Rick could do it, some of the strikers could, too. And some of the normal guys couldn't.

But it had to be fair. Zachariah couldn't tip the scales away from the strikers. In the library, he read about a fifties quiz show where answers were given to contestants ahead of time. The public outcry against the show—and against game shows in general—had been huge. Zachariah's
Love Balloon
would change the genre forever, and hopefully give a normal guy a chance with a great woman like Jenna. But the risk remained that a striker would win it all.

It had to be fair, but that didn't mean it couldn't be broken, the way
Press Your Luck
had been. Maybe there was a pattern. And maybe the normal guys would find a way to succeed.

The physical challenges would balance the mental ones, which he thought the normal guys would win.

It would work. He had to trust that the normal guys would succeed if given the same chance as the strikers.

The ball, hanging in midair, comes alive and lands in the “chicken” basket.

The next contestant, a normal guy, walks to the stripe.

“I think Bob's right,” he says, gesturing toward the previous contestant. “I think she likes chicken the best.”

He stands at the line, rubbing the ball before throwing it toward the chicken basket. But his aim is off. The ball falls in the basket marked “fish.” The contestant lowers his head. The camera cuts to Zack Fox, who wears a knowing look.

Points are tallied after the game, with its multiple questions, is over. The three contestants with the lowest totals stand before the giant screen.

“You three have the lowest totals,” Jenna says from the screen. “Why should you stay on
Love Balloon?
”

The first contestant, Bob, a striker, says, “You should keep me on
Love Balloon
because I can bench press three hundred pounds. I can mop the floor with any of these geeks. I can throw a football through a tire seventy-five yards away and I can fix your car.”

The second contestant, Deion, a normal guy, says, “You should keep me on the show because my aim was off today. I didn't do a very good job throwing the balls during the challenge. But I know your favorite food is fish, and I know you like reading books better than magazines, and that your favorite time of day is right after the sun sets, and that if you could take a vacation anywhere in the world it would be to New Zealand.”

The third contestant, James, also a normal guy, says, “I had bad aim, too. You should keep me on the show because I promise I'll be nice to you if I get to the second season. We'll split the chores and the cooking so both of us have time to do things on our own. And we'll do a lot of things together, too. We'll go for walks in the woods the way you like and pick apples in the fall and drink fresh cider from the press.”

Jenna wears a pensive face.

Her screen goes blank.

Zack Fox puts his fingertips to his ear. Repeat viewers have come to notice the almost invisible earpiece nestled there. Almost imperceptibly, he nods.

“Jenna has weighed her options,” he says.

The crowd cheers. The phrase has become a cultural phenomenon, appearing on T-shirts and coffee mugs as well as in everyday conversation.

“The contestant who will be going home tonight—who will not have a chance to participate in the
Love Balloon
auction at the end of the season, is . . .”

The camera pans across the contestants' faces.

“Bob.”

“Thank you, Bob, for playing
Love Balloon
.”

Bob walks to the center of the stage and shakes Zack Fox's hand. He then walks down a dark hallway under the light of a single bulb.

As he departs, his exit speech plays:

“Of course I'm mad. I mean, I have way more to offer than those two scrawny geeks inside. What she needs is a real man. Those dweebs don't fit the bill. I bet neither of them has been inside a gym a day of their lives. Jenna, if you get stuck with one of those two losers, give me a call. I'll show you a real man.”

“That's all the time we have for this week,” Zack Fox says. “Tune in next week, when nine contestants compete. I'm Zack Fox. From all of us at
Love Balloon,
good night!”