I'll Stop the World (29)

Dave frowns at me, as if noticing my presence for the first time. “I told you you weren’t invited, Bore-en.”

“And I told you that’s not a thing, you wet toe sock.”

His eyes narrow for a second, but then his face relaxes and he smiles, smacking me on the shoulder. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” He glances around, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flask. “Truce?”

I look warily at it, and he rolls his eyes. “What, you think I’m trying to poison you? Look.” He unscrews the cap and takes a swig, then holds it out to me again. “See? Totally fine.”

I debate for a second, then decide—what the hell. If Stan and Mom can both drink away their problems, I might as well do the same. Maybe some mild intoxication therapy will do me good. I accept the flask from Dave and gulp down a mouthful of whatever’s inside, which turns out to be whiskey. My throat ignites as it burns its way down to my stomach. I chase it with another deep swig.

“Justin . . . ,” Alyssa mutters under her breath.

“Damn, Warren,” Dave says, laughing. “Here, you hang on to that. I’ve got more where that came from.”

“No, he’s done,” Alyssa says, trying to grab the flask from me. “Come on, Justin, give it back.”

I turn away from her, blocking her with one arm. It may be psychosomatic, but already I can feel my nerves uncoiling inside me, soothed by a gentle warmth.

“No worries.” Dave grins. “I’ll just grab it from you later. Have a great night, kids.”

He saunters off toward the house, hands in his pockets, as Alyssa continues to try to grab the flask from me. My head swims with a gentle waviness as I tip more whiskey down my throat. By the feel of it, I’ve already downed half the contents. “Stop it,” I mutter as I bat away Alyssa’s insistent hands.

She crosses her arms, glaring at me. “Your mom is an alcoholic, Jay. And from the looks of things yesterday, I think Stan might be one, too. How can you possibly think getting drunk right now is a good idea? Plus, you got that thing from Dave. There’s no way he’s not up to something.”

Now it’s my turn to be annoyed. “I’m not a little kid, Alyssa. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“Someone has to.”

I shake my head, turning my back on her. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

“Justin, come on, what are you doing?”

I wave one hand over my head, not bothering to turn back to her as I walk away. “Having fun. That’s what you wanted, right?”





Chapter Eighteen


LISA

Lisa spotted Charlene at the edge of the driveway, flattening out one of the colorful signs they’d made the day before that had somehow gotten folded in half. Her heart gave an excited flutter at the sight of Charlene in her pink skirt and bright jacket, her golden hair pinned up on one side of her head and cascading down the other in curls that sparkled in the glow of the fire.

“What happened here?” Lisa asked, crouching down next to her.

“Stupidity,” Charlene said with a sigh. She wore a roll of duct tape around one wrist like a bracelet; she tore off a length to attach the sign to a new stake. The old one lay in pieces beside them, half in the ground, half broken off in the grass. “Dumb game that involved half the basketball team and a lot of jumping and, of course, some idiot falling on a sign he could’ve easily just walked around.”

“Wow, sounds like I missed a lot,” Lisa said, helping Charlene push the stake back into the earth. They both leaned back to survey their work. The sign was obviously a little worse for wear, but at least it was legible.

“Yeah,” Charlene said, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes. “Where were you? I thought you were supposed to get here earlier.”

“I did, actually,” Lisa said. “But we stayed in the truck for a little bit. Shawn needed to talk.”

Something flickered behind Charlene’s eyes. “About what?”

Lisa winced internally, knowing Charlene wasn’t going to like the answer. “It’s . . . private. I’m sorry,” she hurried to say. “It’s just that it’s his business, not mine, you know?”

“But you’re the one he talks to about it,” Charlene said.

“Yes, but only because he doesn’t have anyone else.”

“Really?” Charlene raised her eyebrows and stood, taking a few steps into the driveway. She craned her neck, searching the crowd around the fire, until she found what she was looking for and pointed. “That guy doesn’t have anyone else to talk to?”

Lisa followed Charlene’s finger with her eyes. Shawn stood in the middle of a crowd of their classmates, laughing with his head thrown back as admirers pressed ever closer to him, like moths to a flame. “That’s different,” Lisa said quietly.

“How?”

“They don’t know him like I do,” she tried to explain. “He needs me.”

Charlene nodded slowly, biting her lip, and Lisa realized what she must be thinking. “Not like you, though,” she rushed to say. “And, of course, after the election—”

“Will things really change after the election, Lisa?” Charlene asked. “If he needs you now, won’t he need you then, too?”