Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(82)

Instead, I climb the ladder down into the empty pool and walk through the snow blanket. Kicking up the perfectly smooth whiteness as I go.

I hate the fact that I can’t run away from myself. No matter where I go, my stupid voice still rattles around in my head. Telling me that I shouldn’t have done this or I should have done that. Like I don’t know all this already? Like I need to keep hearing it again and again? It’s not as though I sat down and planned to ruin everything.

It just . . . happened.

Keep telling yourself that, Coop. Maybe you’ll start believing it.

I believe it because it’s true.

Really? So how did you imagine things would turn out?

All right, shut the hell up, okay? Just, leave me alone.

But you are alone.

You see? This is what I’m dealing with. My own brain has turned on me. Trying to use logic and facts to confuse me.

I make my way past the lifeguard stands, to the deep end of the pool, and sit down with my back against the twelve-foot wall. I grab a handful of snow and press it into a sad looking snowball. Matt, Sean, and me could totally have a killer snowball fight down here. No place to run and hide. It’d be a free-for-all. Sean would end up huddled in the corner, pleading for us to stop barraging him.

It would be good times.

Although, after they hear what I did to Helen, I doubt they’ll ever want to hang out again. I wouldn’t blame them, either. I don’t even want to hang out with me.

I hurl my malformed snowball into the air and it lands just a few yards away, rolling a wobbly path through the snow.

There’s no fixing this. Valerie’s right. I’m despicable.

And I’ve completely blown it. With Helen. With my friends. Everything.

Stupid.

How could I be so stupid?

I punch the ground.

Ow. Damn. That was stupid, too. I rub my throbbing knuckles.

At least I’m not frozen yet. I wonder if I’d freeze to death if I stayed here all night. Like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining. Would I really turn blue like that? Have icicles dripping off my face?

My nose starts to run but I don’t bother wiping it away. Just sniff it back, which does nothing. I tilt my head up and watch the steam stream from my lips. Let the snowflakes land on my face.

The way the light’s shining, and how the snow’s falling, it looks like I’m traveling through hyperspace. The stars hurtling by me.

If I was the Silver Surfer and I had the Power Cosmic, I’d travel through time and go back to this summer. When everything was dope and all my plans worked like a charm. And Matt, Sean, and me stuck together no matter what. Back before the school year. Before being partnered with Helen. And all the crap with Prudence, and the hot dogs, and the Battle of the Bands.

Several ice crystals land in my eyes. Making them water. Snapping me from my daydream. Tears stream over my temples and onto my ears, almost like I’m crying. But I’m not crying. I’m not. It’s just the snow.

I level my head and stare out at the empty pool.

The snowfall is slowing. Just flurries now, floating softly to the ground. Slowly drifting down. Reminding me of the drifty feeling of dancing with Helen in my room.

And then it comes to me. The realization.

I don’t want to take it all back. Not the hours of playing “Would you rather?” with Helen. Or dancing to U2 in my room. Or our first kiss. Or hearing what an awesome singer she is. I wouldn’t trade any of that stuff for a million nights with Prudence Nash. Because who wants Prudence when there’s Helen?

Helen, who was ready to stand up there in front of the entire school and sing with our crappy band because she didn’t want to let the bad guys win. Who has more courage in her pinky finger than I have in my whole body.

I mean, look at me! Sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Bailing on my friends. Leaving them high and dry to explain to everyone why we’re not going to play. Just because I screwed up and don’t want to deal with it.

Jesus Christ, what kind of friend is that?

I get to my feet. Brush the snow from the backs of my legs.

No. If they still want to play — if Helen still wants to play — I’m going to be there to play. I owe it to her. To give her what little I can. She deserves to be allowed to show off her talent. The school should know how incredible she is.

I turn my cell phone back on to check the time — 8:52 p.m. — and notice that I have fifteen messages. Don’t need to listen to them to know who they’re from.

Mj?llnir’s probably already three songs into their migraine-inducing set. If I hurry, I should be able to get back just as The Wicked hit the stage.

I climb out of the pool and over the fence.

And start running down Rockville Avenue.





“WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?” Sean says when he sees me coming down the hall.

“I had to clear my head.” I rub my hands together, trying to get the blood flowing.

The Wicked have already started playing in the gym. Even muffled through the doors I can tell they’re rocking it. They were holding back during the sound check, for sure.

“We called you a million times.” Matt waves his cell phone. “Jesus, Coop. Is it true? What Valerie said you did to Helen?”

I nod, not able to meet his eyes.

“But . . . why?” Sean asks. If my heart wasn’t already destroyed, Sean’s totally baffled expression would break it.