What They Always Tell Us (14 page)

Nathen drives them to the mall, only a few minutes away. On the drive, they don’t really say much, and that’s cool with Alex. He’s sort of feeling light-headed anyway. If talking about what they just did would ruin the moment, then he’s fine with total silence.

The mall is swarming with crowds, the parking lot jammed with last-minute shoppers. Inside, the two of them lumber to the food court, a long stretch of fast-food joints with common-area tables in the middle. Nathen decides on a sandwich and waffle fries from Chic-fil-A, and Alex gets the same.

Alex usually hates the mall, because invariably he sees people he knows. But now he doesn’t care if he sees people, or if they see him. Let them see him. Here, having lunch with Nathen.

“So,” Nathen says once they sit down at one of the few empty tables. “How you feeling?”

“Worn out. But good.” He wonders if Nathen is asking about the jog or the shower.

“Good,” he says. He sips from his soda and chews on some ice. He stares at Alex and smiles again. “I feel good, too.”

“I guess we should take a break from running till after Christmas?”

“Yeah. But we can still hang out.”

“Okay.” Alex is starving, and he’s been wolfing down his food. But his stomach starts to hurt a little. “You think that James will think it’s weird, you know, if we hang out?”

“Why would he? Can’t we be friends?”

Alex nods. “Yep.”

“Besides, he doesn’t have to know all the time.”

“True.”

“Good.”

Alex sips his soda till it slurps.

“Alex?” Nathen asks.

Alex almost wishes they’d stop talking. Like, the more they say, the weirder it will all get.

“You know, about earlier?” Nathen says. “I mean, I liked it. And I hope you did, too. Because it’s not a joke or anything to me. I mean, I wanted to do it. I just wanted you to know, okay? So you’re not freaked out or anything. I don’t know. It’s weird, I guess. But I liked it. I like you. And you should know that. So, if you don’t wanna hang out anymore, if you’re freaked, then just—”

“I like you, too,” Alex says, interrupting Nathen’s onslaught of words. And there goes his heart racing, like he’s running fast, like he’s chasing Nathen around the track, with no end in sight.

James

O
n a cold Saturday in early January, James and the gang gather at Preston’s garage apartment. It is a few days after New Year’s and just two days before school starts again on Monday. Christmas came and went without much fanfare—besides parties and presents and a lot of eating, James mostly sat around and watched TV or read a few Michael Crichton novels. He wasn’t the beacon of productivity that Alex was—running every other day, or else doing push-ups and crunches, even getting a jump on reading for next semester. No, James was a lazy bum. He’s almost looking forward to school starting in a few days, because then his days will have some structure and order.

Tonight James has come by himself. Greer is here—his college-age girlfriend broke up with him over the holiday, so he’s finally joining in (until he finds a new girlfriend). It was supposed to be a low-key deal, a guys-only night of card playing, movie watching, drinking, smoking. Nothing special. A way to ease into the new year, before the last five months of school leading to graduation. But somehow Tyler Shaughnessy got invited, and he brought Kirk and Beth Hayes with him. If James had known
they
were going to be here, he probably wouldn’t have come. They’re juniors, for one thing. And Beth, as the one girl in the room, throws everything off balance. She’s like an interloper from another world, and they have to watch what they say. They can’t really talk about the girls in their class, for instance, or she’ll rat them out.

“Where’s Nathen?” Tyler asks, then cracks open a can of Bud Light that he brought. At least he and Kirk had the courtesy to BYOB.

“He said he was tired and wanted to stay in,” James says, repeating what Nathen told him earlier on the phone. “He did a lot of running today.”

“God, he takes that shit so seriously,” Greer says. He is on a beanbag thumbing through a
Sports Illustrated.
He’s acting all aloof, like he has better things to do.
He may be on to something,
James thinks.

“Hey, isn’t your brother going to be on the cross-country team with him?” Kirk asks.

“Yeah. He and Nathen are best friends now,” Tyler says, like it’s some crazy joke.

“Not really,” James says, feeling tinges of alarm. “They just run together.”

“Well, I saw them at the mall together last week. Having lunch or something,” Tyler says.

“So? They’d probably just worked out together,” he says, trying to sound calm and unperturbed. “Was it Thursday? I think they did run together that day.”

“Hmm,” Tyler mutters, as if he’s thinking something else but not saying it.

“I didn’t know your little bro could run,” Preston says, rolling a joint, taking his damn sweet time, like it’s an art form.

James sighs and nods. “Well, he can.” He wishes they’d move to another topic.

“Yeah, he runs like the wind,” Tyler says, giggling with Kirk. Even Greer laughs at this.

James has no idea if that’s supposed to be some kind of joke between them. Until recently, he liked Tyler fine. But now Tyler is starting to seem like a menace. First of all, why is he inserting himself into their social circle? Doesn’t he have his own junior-class friends? Sure, they’re on the tennis team together, but so what? It’s like, from out of nowhere, Tyler is breathing down his neck. Their necks. And second of all, why does he have to mock Alex right in front of him?

“Let’s call Nate and see if we can get him off his sorry ass to come over here,” Preston says.

“Okay. Hand me the phone,” Greer says without much enthusiasm, finally putting down the magazine.

Preston takes a break from rolling the joint and hands him the cordless.

Kirk and Beth, meanwhile, are holding hands and stealing kisses. If they wanted to make out, why did they come
here
?

James heads to the kitchenette to get a beer from the fridge, but he can hear Greer talking on the phone.

“He’s not there?…Yes, ma’am, it’s Greer…. Doing great, thanks.” Greer circles his hand in the air to let everyone know that Mrs. Rao is talking his ear off. “Okay…. No, no need to tell him I called. I’ll call him tomorrow. Okay. Bye.” Then Greer hangs up. “What the fuck? ‘He went to the movies,’” Greer says, imitating Mrs. Rao’s English accent.

“The movies?” Tyler frowns.

“Who with?” But the minute James asks, he knows the answer and wishes he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Well,” Greer says. “She said he went with your brother.”

“Weird,” Tyler says, softly, before laughing to himself. “See, I told you—they
are
best buddies now!”

“What an asshole,” Greer says. “Why would he go to the movies with Alex?”

James knows he should respond. He wants to ask them all,
What’s so bad about my brother?
Why wouldn’t Nathen want to go to the movies with him? They run together, they’re about to be teammates, it makes sense they’ve become friends. And sure, Alex is—well, he’s got his issues. But so what? Everyone has issues if they really think about it. James knows he’s not exactly the best brother in the world—knows that he could be nicer, could make an effort to get back the closeness they had, or at least stick up for Alex now.

But he doesn’t have the energy tonight. Instead, he just shrugs and says, “Don’t ask me.”

James calls Nathen the next morning. “So how was the movie?” he asks, knowing that he has failed to mask the edge to his voice.

“Oh, hey. Uh, it was good.” Nathen’s voice sounds strained, maybe nervous. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t go to Preston’s.”

“Why’d you lie to me, Nate?”

“I didn’t lie. I mean, shit, I just didn’t feel like going over there. I was gonna stay home, but I’d mentioned a movie to Alex earlier, after our run. And he called me, so I went. We went.”

Alex called
him
? “Well, everyone at Preston’s thought it was weird that you ditched us and went off with him. They thought you were an asshole.”

“Well,” he says, “that’s their problem.”

Something about this comment should bug James—how Nathen just dismisses a whole group of their friends. But it
doesn’t
bother him. He sort of agrees with it. Individually, Preston and Greer can be great. But sometimes, the way they act together in a group—like last night—makes James wonder,
Why am I friends with these guys?
Greer is focused mainly on his constant string of girls, and Preston on pot and drinking and his BMW. They don’t sit around worrying about college and grades like James; they know where they are headed—to Alabama and the frat life, more or less a continuation of their lives right now. Lately, around them, James feels like they are becoming strangers. Or that
he
is becoming the stranger.

He doesn’t really feel that way about Nathen. Nathen has purpose, goals, smarts. And kindness—something that James feels he himself sometimes lacks, especially when he’s with Greer and Preston and so many of his other classmates. So he can’t stay mad at Nathen.

“Well,” James says. “No worries. You didn’t miss much. Just the usual.”

“So we’re cool?” Nathen asks, now sounding relaxed.

“We’re cool.”

After he hangs up, James heads downstairs to make himself something to eat. He finds Alex in the kitchen. “Are Mom and Dad here?” James asks.

“No, they went grocery shopping. But Mom made blueberry muffins,” he says. That’s what Alex is eating at the table in the breakfast nook.

James grabs a muffin from the plate on the counter and also pours himself a glass of milk. The muffin isn’t hot anymore, but it doesn’t matter—he devours it, standing up.

“Nathen and I saw a movie last night,” Alex says.

“Yeah, that’s what he told me.”

Alex looks over at him. “You don’t mind, do you?”

James takes another gulp of milk. When he’s done he says, playing it off, “Why would I mind?”

“I don’t know.”

James grabs another muffin. “I mean, Preston was a little pissed that he wasn’t hanging with us. But I didn’t care. It was boring over there anyway.” He thinks about mentioning Tyler, Kirk, and Beth, but he decides against it. What would be the point? “Was the movie good?” James asks.

“It was okay,” Alex says. “Nathen liked it a lot.”

“Cool,” James says. He finishes his muffin and takes one last sip of the milk and dumps it into the sink. “Well, I’m going up to my room.”

Alex just nods, staring out the window, but James can see that he is smiling, like he is lost in some pleasant daydream.

Monday brings a new semester, and the temperatures drop below freezing. James has to let the defroster run in his Jeep before he can drive to school. On the way, he thinks about his classes this semester. The counselors and teachers and even the admissions offices claim that his grades this term
still
matter, but James doubts that’s true. His college applications are already in. He’ll still work hard and probably get all As anyway. It just comes naturally to him.

During lunch Preston ribs Nathen about Saturday. “So why’d you ditch us, man?” he asks. He’s moving soggy fries around on his tray, dousing them in ketchup before putting them in his mouth.

Nathen tells Preston just what he told James the day before. He sounds self-sure and unguilty about it.

“Well, next time you better show up,” Preston jokes, accepting Nathen’s excuse, or brushing it off. “This is our last semester, man. We gotta hang out as much as possible.”

James exchanges a private glance with Nathen, who winks.

On the way to French class James sees Alice at her locker. Luckily there haven’t been anymore phone calls since that one around Thanksgiving. She doesn’t notice him at first, but as he gets closer to passing her, she slams her locker and glances his way and gives him an icy stare.

If looks could kill,
he thinks. James just hopes he can survive another five months of this crap. Now that she has a new boyfriend—whoever the unlucky guy is—can’t she just get over it? It’s not like Clare harbors any bad feelings toward him over their breakup during their sophomore year. They saw a movie together over the holiday, and there was no temptation to hold hands during, no real awkwardness. Like him, she just seems to be coasting along, ready for graduation and a life after Central High.

French class ends, AP English begins. The reading list for this semester is heavy—novel after novel after novel, poem after poem, story after story. The class groans, and Mr. Harris reminds them, “Well, this
is
advanced placement, after all.” At the end of the term they have the option to take a test to see if they can get college credit. But James isn’t even sure he’ll do that; he just wanted to be in the smarter class. Plus, it looked good on his application.

It’s too cold out for tennis today, Coach Whitley decides at the start of sixth period, so they all hang out in the hallway outside the gymnasium, which is a big waste of time. Once the weather gets a little more bearable, they will start practicing harder, even staying after school, to get ready for the new season, which starts in April, right after spring break.

When the bell rings, James dashes out to the parking lot. On the way, he sees Alice again, wearing her down jacket and standing by her blue Ford Taurus, smoking in quick puffs that are indistinguishable from her normal breaths in the freezing air. Alice sees him and flips him the bird. He thinks about flipping her back, but he doesn’t. He almost wants to go and tell her to grow up, to get a life. But he just sighs and gets in his car and gets the hell out of there.

A few nights later, his mother announces that they are having Henry and his mother over for dinner on Sunday.

“Really?” James asks. “Why?”

“They’re our neighbors,” she says, like that explains it all. They’ve been neighbors for months, so why now? he wonders.

“I thought you didn’t like her,” he says.

“James, why would you say that? That’s not true. I never said anything like that.”

“Okay,
sorry,
” he says.

“I mean, she’s a bit odd, yes. But Shirley Mackey told me she’s had quite a hard time of it. You know, raising a child on her own, making ends meet. So I thought having them over would be a nice thing to do. And you’re friends with the little boy, right, Alex?”

“Yep,” Alex says, not looking up from his plate.

This is no big secret. If Alex isn’t off jogging with Nathen or shut up in his room, he’s outside chatting with that kid. It’s weird, James thinks, someone Alex’s age being friends with a ten-year-old. Kind of pathetic, too. But in the end he doesn’t see the harm in it. Neither do his parents, he guesses. A kid friend is better than nothing.

“What does she do?” James asks.

“What?”

“Mrs. Burns. What does she do?”

“Oh, well, I think she does secretarial work at Pembroke Paper. She may work part-time only. I’m not sure.”

His father chortles to himself, and James sees Alex give him a quizzical look.

“So how does she afford that house?” James asks.

His mother seems irritated by the questions. “Well, I don’t know, honey. I suspect she has family money. Who knows?”

James could go on with his questions: Like, what family money? He remembers that Henry doesn’t even have a father in the picture. And, even if she had family money, why rent
that
house? It’s way too big for two people. But he lets it drop. What does he care anyway?