All Good People Here(15)

Krissy laughed. “We just do it when it fits. It’s a nickname, Billy, don’t overthink it. Anyway, what about you? What should we call you?”

Beside her, Dave squinted, making a show of studying Billy’s face. “I think Jacobs is a Jacobs, don’t you, Kris?” His eyes slid to hers. “Good work, by the way. You got the fucking king of Wakarusa to deface the field of Northlake High.”

Dave reached over to tousle Krissy’s hair, and she ducked away from his hand with a shriek, dropping the arm that had been around Billy’s neck. “Deface the field?” she said, giving Dave a look.

He grinned. “Surprise.”

Krissy rolled her eyes. “So clever.” But she said it teasingly. What did she care about this shithole school?

“So,” Caleb said, bending over to pull something out of a plastic bag. “I brought spray paint.”

“Nah,” Dave said. “Spray paint’s no good. It washes off too easy.” He reached down into another shopping bag by his feet and pulled out an industrial-sized plastic bottle. “Weed killer. That way they basically have to regrow the whole field.”

Martha clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, Dave, that’s fucking amazing.”

Beside her, Krissy noticed Billy push his hand deeper into his pocket.

“What’re you guys gonna write?” Martha asked.

Dave waggled his eyebrows. “We’re not gonna write anything. We’re gonna draw.”

“Cock and balls,” Caleb said helpfully.

Everybody laughed, and Krissy watched as Billy made himself laugh too. She had the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand, tell him everything was going to be all right.

“Dave,” Caleb said. “You wanna start?”

“And rob you guys of all the fun?” Dave grinned, extending the bottle of weed killer to Caleb, but then he paused, turned. Locking eyes with Billy, he said, “What d’ya think, Jacobs, you wanna do the honors?”

“Oh.” Billy laughed, clearly trying to play off his discomfort. “Nah, that’s okay. Thanks, though.”

Dave jerked his head back. “You sure? No pressure. You don’t wanna do it, you don’t wanna do it. But it is a good opportunity to give this place one last middle finger.”

Billy chuckled uncomfortably again, shaking his head. “I don’t think I hated it as much as you guys did.”

“Really?” Dave said. His tone was steady and inquisitive, almost thoughtful. “This place that takes everything unique about you and spins it to make you seem fundamentally fucked up?” He shook his head, laughing ruefully. “Jesus, my teachers thought I was a devil worshiper all sophomore year because I listened to Nirvana. People still call Martha a slut because she had sex with Robby O’Neil two years ago—”

“Dave!” Martha snapped.

Dave gave her a look. “What? It’s fucking true. I don’t think you’re a slut. You get to do whatever the hell you want to do. All I’m sayin’ is—this town puts a label on us the day we’re born. You remember the time Joseph Pinter called Kris ‘white trash’ when he found out her and her mom live in a trailer park? And Mr. Yacoubian was standing right there and didn’t say anything? He’s a teacher and he just let it happen because Joseph Pinter has a white picket fence and Kris doesn’t.”

Krissy felt Billy’s gaze on her face and she lifted her head to meet it. He blinked a few times, then thrust out a hand to Dave. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Billy had just finished outlining the left ball, the rest of the group watching from the ground, when Krissy heard the two-note warning siren of a cop car.

“Oh shit,” Zoo said, and suddenly they were all clambering to their feet. Martha let out a little shriek that dissolved into giggles and spread among the group. Caleb, who was hammered by this point, tried to stand, but fell backward again with a grunt.

“You guys, get outta here,” Dave said, and in his voice was somehow both a laugh and a warning.

Krissy scanned the field for her Converses, which she’d kicked off earlier.

“Here, Jacobs,” she heard Dave say as she grabbed her shoes and tugged one on. “Gimme that.”

She looked up to watch as Dave extended his hand to Billy. Around them, Martha, Noah, Caleb, and Zoo hurriedly grabbed their things from the ground.

Billy frowned. “What’re you gonna do with it?”

Dave nodded to the police car, which had just parked. “They’re not even out of the car yet. I have time to finish.”

Billy opened his mouth then closed it again, and Krissy suddenly understood what he’d thought was happening. He’d thought Dave—maybe her too, maybe all of them—had set him up, had wanted to watch the king of Wakarusa’s fall from grace, had wanted to see his face splashed in the local paper as the perpetrator of what would no doubt be deemed a “tasteless, offensive prank.”

“Oh, I get it,” Dave said, clearly coming to the same realization. “You thought I was gonna let you take the fall.” He clapped a hand on Billy’s shoulder, gently prying the bottle of weed killer from his hand. “I may be an asshole, Jacobs, but I’m not that kind of asshole.”

Krissy pulled on the heel of her other shoe, then hurried over to slip a hand into Billy’s. “Billy,” she said, grabbing him to follow. “C’mon. Let’s go.”