The Most Dangerous Place on Earth(65)

“Damon. You can do this,” Jenny said. Like she was right in that plastic tube with him. Like she saw him sliding down.

“I know,” he told her.

She let him out of the isolation room.

Ryan gave him a ride home. “We got the hookup,” he said. “Nick’s supplier came through. You down?”

Damon thought, I could do the rest of this shit tomorrow before school. Get up hella early, bomb through it. I could say I did it but I lost it. I could say I forgot it. I could do it tomorrow night. Hand it in late for half credit. I could not do it. Toss my backpack in the back of Ryan’s Expedition and forget it. And for a few hours out of twenty-four do what the fuck I want to do.

“Naw, not tonight,” he told Ryan. “Fuckin’ washed, bro.”

“Whatever, chag,” Ryan said.

When Damon got home, he went straight to his room. He turned on the desk light and shoved the sweatshirts and candy wrappers and broken pens and DVDs onto the floor. He scrolled through his phone to look at funny shit on Vine but didn’t even stay on five minutes. He got all his books out and Jenny’s list and for the first time ever he did everything on it. Not even joking. Every last thing.

After a couple weeks, it got to the point where Jenny didn’t even cringe when he came in. He was turning in work, and his math grades had gone up to C’s instead of F’s. And he was feeling different. Not smoking or drinking, so his head got clearer. He was still killing zombos on Xbox but it wasn’t the first thing he went to, and he didn’t lose those hours that used to go by before he was even aware. Now mostly he played at Ryan’s or Nick’s place. It was better than playing alone and they were mostly cool with him not smoking. Most of all, he was doing better at what Lance said, like not getting so heated when teachers glared at him, and breathing when he felt cooped up. At the tutoring place, Jenny started leaving the door to the isolation room open so he could hear the buzz of kids outside. She said pretty soon they’d be out in the main room and he’d get to use a computer again. She didn’t even mind when he came in—came right up to him and asked to help without glancing at anyone.

—

The night of Elisabeth Avarine’s party—the night he got the BMW back—Damon went and picked up Ryan. As they bombed down the half-empty streets toward Elisabeth’s house, they were slapping old-school Tupac loud enough to shake the seats. He didn’t know what was gonna happen that night, but he hadn’t had a drink in weeks and he didn’t think he needed one. He was good. He was back.

Elisabeth Avarine lived in one of those big old ghost-story-looking houses in the canyon behind Old Mill Park, on a street that was like two mountains sucking in so cars and people could sneak through. Damon slid the car into a little groove next to a redwood tree and stepped out feeling pretty good—considering he hadn’t had a car in months, he still parked like a fuckin’ pro. He didn’t bother to lock it because this was Mill Valley and anyone who’d be tryna take a BMW was going to be inside the party with him. And people would be getting too wasted to be running around stealing cars and shit.

The house was jammed into the side of the hill, so he and Ryan had to hike down this cutty staircase in the dark just to find the front door. As they descended, Damon’s heart started punching his ribs and he thought of what Lance said, like how it’s never too late to change the game. People were starting to look at him different. Not everyone—most adults still kinda flinched when he walked in a room—but some. Like Jenny. Like his mom, who was acting just a little more relaxed lately. Not like his dad, but who gave a shit about that asshole. That’s what Lance said. “You’ve gotta adjust your expectations,” Lance said. “Don’t expect him to be different. And if he comes at you, stay cool. Don’t take the bait.” Lance said a lot of dope shit and Damon tried to remember it all, running the lines through his brain on a loop. Instead, there was that thing his dad said earlier. Just for the night. See how you do. Shaking the keys in Damon’s face. Why did he have to do it like that? Why couldn’t he just be decent and say, Good job, Damon, you’re not a fuckup after all, you’re doing all that homework and not doing nothing to chill yourself out, not drinking, not smoking, not even when your body’s screaming at you to give it some relief, and in the three months you’ve been home the teachers haven’t complained about you once? Instead he had to shake those keys like Damon was a dog begging for a walk and raise that eyebrow like he was a hundred percent sure Damon was gonna fuck it up. Like he wanted him to. Like he’d rather be right than have a son he could actually try to like.

As they walked down to Elisabeth’s front door, Damon still had his dad in the back of his head, not his words but his face, that smirk like I know who you are. Damon tried to put Lance’s words on top, to remember that the past was not the future, he could be anyone he decided to be. But when they got into the party, the music wrapped them up, and there were girls and red cups scattered everywhere, and he knew this was where he belonged.

—

Damon and Ryan walked through Elisabeth Avarine’s living room and out to the redwood deck. The deck glowed under yellow spotlights and beyond the rail there was nothing but black trees and the canyon underneath, the earth skidding down to a creek that was shushing along below.

Nick was over in the corner, just chilling with these girls in a circle of cushy patio furniture. He sat in a chair with a freshman perched on one arm; three more girls spooned each other in a long chair next to him, and there were two more armchairs with dudes who jumped up and disappeared when they saw Damon and Ryan coming.