The Long Wait for Tomorrow (31 page)

“I don’t know …” She stared at the top of the closet door, thinking. “Weeks, no … months. Maybe even a year.”

Patrick’s angels drew in a breath.
Just how long has Edmund been holding on to that piece, waiting?

“Keep calling the number by the phone,” Patrick told her, gearing up. “Just keep dialing. When Kelly picks up, tell him
everything
that’s happened tonight. Understand?
Everything.”

Patrick didn’t have the time to see if his orders had sunk in.

Without the slightest urge to find out just what was awaiting him at the prom, Patrick tore down the stairs, burst through the front door, and ran out into the night. Leaped into his car, and pulled out into the overflowing streets, heading downtown for the Marriott Hotel.

e left his car near the Downtown Film House, figuring it might save him the trouble of dealing with an overcrowded parking garage. He charged through the puddles, past orange construction cones lining the gutter, listening to the sound of his own breath under the static of semiautomatic raindrops.

The entrance to the Verona Marriott was right around the corner, on Davies Street. A semicircular driveway curved toward the revolving doors, sheltered by the building’s overhang. A pair of security guards were stationed outside, passing the time with a busy doorman. Patrick had the presence of mind to slow down. Using his fingers as a comb, he breezed past the cops with a how-about-this-weather smile radiating just above his frigid skin.

Patrick slid through the revolving doors and into the lobby, pausing to get his bearings. The ceiling was raised high, chandeliers dangling like decadent earrings, diffuse and purely decorative. The off-white wallpaper, encrusted with ornate, semi discernible gold patterns, was almost pulsating under the brilliant white light that seemed to have no actual source.

Already he saw several Wellspring students strolling by. Tuxedoed boys arm in arm with their pirouette girls. There was nothing subtle about the looks, the whispered asides. Patrick
was representing Kelly, his very presence akin to a traitor in their midst.

The one who had almost cost them the state champion ship.

Patrick started over to the front desk, a wide alcove carved into the far left wall, before catching sight of the hallway to his right. Double doors were set into either side at lengthy intervals. From farther down, Patrick could hear the dampened sound of music.

He trotted down the hall, past more wandering teenagers floating about like mismatched chess pieces, looking to take a break or score some weed. Following his ears to the end of the hallway, Patrick arrived at a set of open doors leading into a large ballroom. He had less than a moment to take in the flash of red, yellow, and green lights before a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Bill,” Patrick gasped, hand folded over his chest.

“Jesus, Patrick,” Bill said, withdrawing his hand. He was dressed in black pants, forsaking an actual suit for one of those shirts with a tuxedo design drawn on the front. “You’re soaked.”

“It’s raining,” Patrick explained, glancing back into the room.

“You’re in a lot of trouble, Patrick,” Bill told him, though his voice was far from retribution. Worried expression behind his glasses, secretly asking if everything was all right. “Are you here with Kelly?”

“No, but …” Patrick didn’t know where to begin. Decided it was best to skip straight to the appendix. “Have you seen Edmund?”

“Edmund Radcliff?” The question took him by surprise. “No, I didn’t expect … I mean, there’s a lot of freshmen who don’t show up, I just didn’t think he’d be here.”

“Bill, I don’t know how I can … stress this without making it a big deal but …Just look out for Edmund. Tell the rest of the staff, chaperones to look out for Edmund. If you see him, could you just pull him aside—”

“Patrick—”

“Keep him on lockdown, whatever. Something bad is going to happen,
you have to find Edmund
.”

“Where are you going?” Bill asked, gently taking hold of Patrick’s arm.

“I’ve got to find Cody.”

Patrick knew this would only raise further questions, and he ducked into the party. Tables were set up on both sides, white tablecloths glowing a radioactive purple under the gleam of black lights. A few heads shot up from their refreshments. Some mortified, others flabbergasted. A few angry ones, hurling insults that never reached Patrick’s ears under the blanket of …

He caught sight of Principal Sedgwick, standing over by a large plastic bowl. Midway through ladling a glass of punch when their eyes locked across the room. Even from across the room, Patrick knew this wasn’t Sedgwick’s usual glare of oversensitive outrage. Kelly was a wanted man, and Sedgwick was now blessed with a luxury he rarely indulged in: confidence.

Tossing the ladle into the punch bowl, he began to make
his way over, navigating between the tables. A self-assurance that bordered on menacing.

No time for cocktails
, Patrick’s angels sang.
Somebody’s going to die.

Patrick threw himself into the gulf of dancers. Weaving between the thicket of hips, arms, and strobe-lit faces, he cast his sights around. Keeping an eye out for Edmund, Cody, Sedgwick, the whole damn world. It was like maneuvering through a snake pit, expecting a shot to ring out at any moment, send everyone tumbling to the ground.

And, suddenly, Patrick was face to face with Cody.

Well-fitting tux showing off his broad build.

“Welcome to the party!” he yelled, immune to the undulating bodies around him.

“Cody!” Patrick yelled back. “You’ve got to get out of here!”

Cody cupped his hands around his mouth. “Come with me!”

Not bothering to explain the why or wherefore, he began to slip away, into the crowd.

Patrick glanced over his shoulder, thought he saw Sedgwick’s graying head floating above the fray.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
, his angels screamed over the music.

Patrick plunged in after Cody. The jungle of warm bodies had grown thicker, and he was practically hacking his way through them when he burst out on the other side.

Cody was waiting for him at shore’s end.

He took Patrick by the arm and led him to an emergency
exit. They slipped through, emerging into a dimly lit hallway, walls and floors made of rough concrete. A fluorescent buzz, coupled with the hum of electrical wiring, took over as the door slammed shut behind them.

“Alone at last.” Cody grinned, cracking his neck and straightening his lapels.

For a moment, Patrick thought he was about to get decked.

Cody reached out and ran a hand through Patrick’s hair, ruffled it with a pleased smile. “I guess you heard we won anyway.”

Patrick drew back a little. “Yeah, I heard.”

“It’s kind of funny …” Cody motioned for Patrick to follow, and the two started down the endless hallway. “What with Kelly running away like that, right in front of all those cameras … Well, there’s not a sports fan in this whole country now that didn’t see us take Wilson down.”

“Cody …”

“I’m sure you know I’ve never liked Kelly that much …,” he continued. The hallway turned at a right angle, and he beckoned with an unnecessary wag of his finger. “A little too high and mighty. He never really was part of the team, you know? Not a real leader. He never really had it. I sure as hell ain’t surprised he freaked the fuck out, you know?”

Cody came to a halt before another door, red exit sign buzzing above.

Directly across from that, an open doorway led to the laundry room. Dryers clattered, washers made wet sopping sounds.

“Why did you have to send the picture out?” Patrick asked
him. “Why’d you have to e-mail it to every last person in the
school
?”

“Kind of self-righteous for a petty thief, aren’t you?” Cody winked. He pushed on the door, which lead into an empty stairwell. “Forgive this roundabout route, but what with the breaking and entering, you and Kelly are the catch of the year, and I don’t want Principal Sedgwick getting his hooks into you.”

Patrick followed him up two flights, the dry scrape of their footsteps echoing up through a thirty-flight rectangular spiral. They exited onto the second floor, a quiet hallway with the same wallpaper, same green and red carpeting as the lobby.

They headed toward the elevators.

Cody the very model of sophisticated fashion.

Patrick plodding along in a ruined Armani suit.

“Why did you
do
it?” Patrick repeated, growing angry.

“You don’t want to get too excited there …” Cody pressed the Up arrow on the brass panel. “The only reason you’re not in jail right now is because I don’t want you there. You have no idea how lucky you got, Patrick…. Luckier than Kelly, anyway.”

“What about Kelly—”

“Shhh …”

Cody waited with his arms folded in front of him. Humming tunelessly, making a little elevator music. Knowing well and true that Patrick was in a corner. Enjoying the perks of absolute immunity.

The doors to the elevator slid open.

Cody and Patrick stepped in.

Cody pressed the button for the second floor from the top.

The doors slid closed.

Patrick didn’t even feel the lurch of the elevator as Cody’s fist slammed into his stomach.

A sorry wheeze rushed from his mouth as he doubled over, fell back against the elevator wall. His tailbone rammed into the flat brass railing, sending infuriated screams to his brain. Breath gone. Eyes bulging, ludicrous thoughts of Harry Houdini, dead from a sucker punch to the stomach.

“That’s for breaking into my house,” Cody told him, grabbing him by the hair. “And this one’s just ’cause Kelly ain’t around to stop me.”

The second punch caught him in the face, a straight jab that sent his head snapping back. Skin splattering against his cheekbone. A few knuckles knocked his eyeball back into the socket, lights flashing, instantly becoming an agonizing throb.

Patrick felt himself sliding to the ground.

Cody caught him, hoisted Patrick to his knees as though he were stuffed with feathers.

“You think I don’t know what you were doing?” Cody asked flatly. Patrick blinked against reflexive tears, straining to see. Cody’s face was a contorted wet thumbprint. “You could’ve just taken the card. But you two thought you’d take the pills in hopes that I’d be too afraid to tell on you.”

Patrick couldn’t think past the wailing in his head. “He’s still got ’em, you dumb shit.”

“Maybe …,” Cody mused, unaffected by the rebuke. “But they’re his now.”

“They’re
yours.
”

“Not so much anymore. The cops found the pills in his car. They let us know about it, asked about it. I denied it up and down. They should be running tests on them even as we speak. Kelly’s going to be the user, not me.”

“They’ll test him,” Patrick shot back, regaining his composure through the obnoxious throbbing. “He’s going to come out clean. When Kelly tells them they were yours—”

“He’ll have to tell them where he got them.” Cody stepped back, let Patrick stand on his own. “I’ll be tried as a juvenile on a minor possession charge. Kelly as an adult for breaking and entering. Same as you, Patrick.”

Patrick glanced up at the round numbers above the elevator doors.

Couldn’t make out just what floor they were passing.

“As for testing?” Cody continued, preparing himself for their final destination. Straightening his suit, combing his hair. “Don’t be too sure Kelly’s going to come out clean.”

Patrick drew himself up, shook his head.

“Oh, you really are
pathetic …
” Cody shook his own head, a relaxed smile on his face. “Kelly’s been using for about a year now.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Cody replied simply.

“Kelly would have remembered.”

Cody laughed. “Oh, you mean in his little trek through time?”

Before Patrick could even begin to wonder where Cody was getting this from, his angels began to repeat Edmund’s
words verbatim:
He’s rationalized it, you see. In his head, he’s told himself it’s OK. It becomes nothing to him. As a result, when he comes back in time, that whole part of his life is erased along with everything else.