The Islanders (18 page)

LUCAS DECIDED AGAINST LUNCH IN
the cafeteria. The food was lousy and he didn't feel comfortable eating with Zoey. Zoey, Aisha, and Nina had made a long-standing ritual of having lunch together—no guys, no outsiders, with the occasional exception of Claire. Zoey had told him he was welcome, but when he was there the conversation tended to die out, and he'd gotten the message—lunchtime was girl time.

He left the campus and headed toward the nearby Burger King. He had a little money now from doing some work on his father's lobster boat. He'd been mucking out the bilges, which was about as nasty a job as you could find anywhere, and doing some painting, which wasn't so bad. His father might be a son of a bitch, but he paid a fair wage for the work. A Whopper and fries wouldn't set him back too much.

The Burger King was filled with other kids from school, competing for space with business-women from the nearby
office buildings and guys from a road crew that was repaving a section of the street.

Lucas got into line behind a dozen other people. With luck he would just have time to get his food and eat it as he walked back to school.

“Is that you, Cabral? You punk.” The voice was harsh and challenging. Lucas steeled himself and turned around.

Two guys. One, short with a receding chin, a weedy red mustache, a reddish buzz cut, and dead blue eyes. The other, much larger, sullen, a shaved head, his muscular arms covered in crude tattoos. Both wore black jeans and steel-studded leather boots.

“Snake,” Lucas said to the smaller of the two. “Did they finally let you go or did you escape?”

Snake smiled the fanged smile that gave him his name. “I hit eighteen, man. Birthday. The magic number.”

“I didn't know you could count that high, Snake.”

“Don't bust my balls, asswipe,” Snake said. He jerked a thumb at the big guy. “Jones gets pissed when guys bust my balls.”

Lucas thought of a smart remark but the truth was, while Snake by himself was a gutless little weasel, as part of a group he would be bolder. And Jones was big enough to be a group all by himself. “You know, Snake, I'd love to talk over old times, but
you know, we're not supposed to be dealing with each other. It'd be a parole violation for you to be seen talking to a lowlife like me.”

“Screw that. My parole officer's some old witch. I don't take any crap off her.”

“You want something from me, Snake? Because if not, I think I'll bail. I didn't know they let people like you in here.”

“Back to school like a good little boy, Cabral? Studying hard?” Snake stepped closer. “Or is it just the stuff, man. Is that it? You have some nice little piece warming you up at night, dude? Maybe a cheerleader or something? Yeah, I need to get me some of that. I been inside a long time, man. Maybe I could just borrow yours for a few hours. What do you got, a blond? A redhead?” He nudged Jones and laughed. “She's a white girl at least, isn't she?”

Lucas's face froze. Suddenly he was out of the Burger King, far from Weymouth High, all the way back in a dark, loud, threatening place where the rules of normal behavior didn't apply. He moved closer to Snake, till his face was just inches from Snake's empty eyes.

“Don't get in my face, man. You'd better have more than this big dumb lump of crap backing you up before you get in my face.”

To Lucas's surprise, Snake didn't back down. “I got all I
need backing me up, Cabral. Dudes you don't even want to think about.”

“More of your white-power morons?”

Snake blinked. “Like I said. We got some soldiers you don't want to think about messing with.”

“Go crawl back under your rock,” Lucas said in disgust. He pushed past Snake and headed for the exit. He threw the door open violently and sucked in the clear, cool outside air. He realized his hands were trembling, and he stuck them deep in his jeans pockets. He took several more deep breaths, trying to calm the quivering feeling in his stomach that was half fury, half fear.

He had known and dealt with guys like Snake in the Youth Authority. He'd almost gotten used to their simpleminded crudeness, the twisted, festering racism that had been nurtured in homes filled with hatred and alcoholic brutality. But here on the outside, back in the world, with all that now part of the past, it was a shock to see them again.

He wasn't really afraid, he told himself. Skinheads rarely took on people who could defend themselves. And Lucas was wary enough to stay out of their way.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Six weeks ago I was listening to Snake whimpering in his sleep in the next bunk, and in three days I'm happy high school homecoming king.” The contrast brought a wry smile to his lips.

He stretched to get the tension out of his neck and back, swung his arms to loosen the muscles that had tightened in preparation for sudden violence, and walked back to school. He would try to find Zoey, right away, even before sixth period when they would be in history together. If he could find her and hold her in his arms, she would drive the memories away.

“You're not eating that, are you?” Zoey looked at Nina in alarm. “That's tamale pie.”

“I know it sucks, but I'm hungry,” Nina said.

“It's beef, Nina. You don't eat dead cow or dead Pig.”

Nina shrugged. “It didn't make any sense, really. I mean, I ate dead fish and dead chicken. Besides, I'm allowed to change my mind.” She took a tentative bite of the greasy mass.

“I was thinking about going
totally
veg,” Aisha said accusingly. “You were my inspiration, Nina.”

“I'm a work in progress, kids. I change, I grow, I gain new insights. Deal with it. Besides, I'm hungry.”

Zoey looked over her shoulder. Claire was still coming through the lunch line. She might or might not decide to sit with them. Claire could just as easily decide to go off and sit alone. “Work in progress,” she muttered, giving Nina a skeptical look. “So I hear, from third parties.” She glanced meaningfully over her shoulder in the direction of Claire.

Nina looked mystified. Then her expression cleared. “Oh. I was going to tell you; it's not some big secret or anything.”

“You told your sister
before
you told me? Has there been some sudden outbreak of sisterly devotion at the Geiger household?
I'm
your first stop for new and fascinating gossip. Then
I
tell Aisha. That's the normal order of the universe.”

Aisha nodded agreement. “We feel betrayed.”

Nina sighed loudly. “Look, it's kind of embarrassing, okay? I didn't want you two going
aww, isn't it sweet, little Nina has a crush on Benjamin
.”

Zoey smiled at Aisha. “It is sweet, though.”

“Aww, look, she's blushing,” Aisha said, pointing at Nina.

“Our little Nina is in love. You know, if things work out, she could someday be my sister-in-law.”

“You'd be the aunt to her children.”

“We'd have little family get-togethers and Nina and I would make fried chicken and coleslaw while the kids played out in the backyard and Lucas and Benjamin drank beer and belched.”

Nina drummed her fingers on the table. “Are you two done?”

“All I can say is, watch out,” Aisha advised. “Guys are basically pigs. Speaking of which. See that guy over there? The tall one? Do you think he'd like to take me to homecoming? I think he's better-looking than Christopher.”

Claire had come up behind them. “Just because Christopher is a pig doesn't mean all guys are,” she said. “And that guy you're looking at is a sophomore. He's just tall.” She set down her tray and took the remaining seat.

“She's right, Eesh,” Nina said. “You have to take a much broader sampling before you can say that all guys are pigs. Which is the only reason Claire keeps burning through guys at a rate of one every couple of months. Or, more recently, one in about a week.”

Claire sent Nina a tolerantly poisonous look. “You know, it's really not fair, your taking cheap shots at me when you know that I can't fight back.”

“So fight back.”

“You're still in your official ‘victim' status,” Claire said. “I'm trying to be a supportive sister and all, but you make it so difficult.”

Nina laughed. “You don't have to treat me like I'm fragile. It's the opposite. I mean, what happened, happened a long time ago. Now that it's out in the open I feel
less
pathetic, not more. I'm now ruining
his
life, like he tried to ruin mine, so, to be honest with you, I feel pretty good. Better than I have since then.”

“Yeah, but I still can't pick on you for having had no love life,” Claire said, shaking her head.

“We could pick on Aisha for always talking about how
she
was too smart to get caught up in some big romantic thing,” Nina suggested.

“Go ahead, you're right,” Aisha said, agreeing readily. “I didn't listen to my own advice, and I ended up falling for some guy who's a weasel. Go ahead, give me your best shot. I deserve it.”

“It's no fun if you're asking for it,” Nina grumbled.

“I have to admit one thing, though,” Claire said. “You handled it really well, Aisha. No weeping or wailing. Boom, it's over, get on with life. There's been like this epidemic of relationships breaking up lately,” she observed. “Zoey and Jake. Me and Benjamin. But Aisha's the cool one.”

Aisha smiled a little lopsidedly. “It was never any big thing.”

“It must have been something fairly major. I mean, you were always above the fray, very cool about guys, and then suddenly you were hanging out with Christopher every time you got the chance.”

“We barely ever saw you,” Nina added, grimacing around her tamale pie.

“Talking about him. Engaging in public displays of making out and all. Jeez,” Claire said, “that time I ran into you two out behind the gym after school, it was one of those scenes that should have been labeled ‘young love,' or at least ‘young
passion.' You looked about ready to start a family.” She paused to stare at Nina. “You're eating tamale pie?”

Aisha's face had fallen. She stared down at her tray.

“Let's talk about something else,” Zoey said, pointedly giving Claire a look.

Claire looked at Aisha, then winced and sent Zoey a confused
how was I supposed to know
look.

“I've decided to eat dead stuff again,” Nina said, trying to start the conversation in a new direction.

“I have to—” Aisha stood up and pointed vaguely in the direction of the door. “Some studying.”

“Okay,” Zoey said gently. “We'll see you later, Eesh.”

Aisha fumbled picking up her books, and a tear dropped onto the table. Then she raced toward the exit.

Claire sat back and rolled her eyes. “Great. Maybe I should go after her.”

“And display some more of that sensitivity you're famous for?” Nina asked.

“It's not Claire's fault,” Zoey said. “You know Aisha. She always has to be so in control of everything. She keeps everything inside. She can't blame us for believing she really
is
in control.”

Jake McRoyan stared blankly at the Xeroxed sheet on the desk in front of him. He had already written his name at the top, but
at the moment that was the only thing he recognized on the page.

Since when did Ms. Rafanelli throw a surprise quiz at them on a Tuesday? She did quizzes on Thursday, not Tuesday.

He had actually made a brief effort to scan the assigned reading over the weekend. He'd looked at a few chapters, and it hadn't looked all that bad, as books went. The title involved bells for some reason, but it had been a war story. He'd rented a video of the movie that had been made from the book, but when he'd started to watch it with Lars Ehrlich, they'd decided to drink a few beers and take regular Nintendo breaks, and with one thing or another they hadn't seen much of the movie, either.

1.
For Whom the Bell Tolls
is the story of an American volunteer who fights in which war?

(a) The American Civil War

(b) The War of 1812

(c) The Spanish Civil War

(d) The War of the Roses

Well, forget
d.
Who would have a war and call it “The War of the Roses”? But it could be any of the first three choices.

“c.”

The whisper was barely audible, but it was real all the same.
Claire, who sat behind him. Claire, who of course had read the book. She was as bad as Zoey when it came to homework. He'd hooked up with two little do-bees when it came to homework.

“Number one is
c
,” Claire said.

The back of Jake's neck burned. Was he that obvious? Could she tell just by looking at the back of his head that he was clueless?

It made him furious. Just a few days earlier, Claire had rescued him with some homework he'd fallen behind on. Like he was some pity case all of a sudden.

Of course, in American lit. he was. He was holding on to a bare
C
-, and if it dropped to a
D
, he would be automatically suspended from the football team until he brought the grade back up.

His pencil hovered over the test. This was pathetic; it was just a little multiple-choice quiz to make sure people had read the book. It wasn't exactly a major essay test. Yet he'd been about to answer
a
when Claire had spoken. He'd have been wrong, because Claire definitely wasn't.

She was using this to get back on his good side. Like she'd tried to use the fact that she got him sobered up in time to make the last game.

His pencil still hovered.

He clenched his free hand into an angry fist. Damn Claire, anyway.

“Number two is
d
,” the whispered voice said.

Ms. Rafanelli looked up, a puzzled expression on her face. She scanned the room for a moment, then went back to reading her book.