Famous in a Small Town(23)

We were in eighth grade when it happened. I remember Brit’s eyes, bright and red-rimmed, telling me it was Tanner Barnes and his friends who spiked Luke’s drink as a joke.

“He should be in jail,” she said, voice choked with anger and tears. “He should get arrested for this. He should have to pay.”

This was the origin of Brit’s thesis statement for the next four years—making Tanner Barnes pay. Tanner, who was Acadia’s number one track-and-field star, ranked at the state level. Had scholarship offers from multiple schools. Was close to getting fast enough in the 100 meter to qualify for the Olympic Trials.

He wanted to make Luke look stupid. He wanted to humiliate him. So I’m going to humiliate him right back. One day I’m going to race him, and I’m going to beat him.

How will that humiliate him?

Because he’s an egotistical asshole. So I’m going to do better than he ever did.

I thought of that night outside McDonald’s—What do you want most in the world? I didn’t need to ask Brit, because I already knew.

“That’s terrible,” August said.

“Yeah.” I fiddled with the tab on the top of my soda, and then it was quiet. “So …” I wanted to lighten things up. “Anyway. Anything new with you?”

He smiled a little. “I got a job.”

“Oh yeah?”

A nod. “Dollar Depot.”

“Nice.”

“I think my ability to lift thirty pounds really sealed the deal,” he said. “Also my awesome personality.”

“Can’t forget that.”

It was quiet again.

“Have you done any social media outreach?” The Megan Pleasant plan was never far from my mind.

He made a funny face. “I didn’t think I was really in on the whole … Megan thing. I’m not in the band.”

“Well, we could use your help no matter what. But you should try out.” A pause. “You know, like in case you’re still here for the fall.”

“Maybe.”

“We start back up soon, for the Fourth of July parade. You could audition for Ms. Hill.”

“I don’t have a sax here.”

“You can rent one.”

He gave a noncommittal “Mm.”

I paused, and then spoke carefully: “They have scholarships and stuff, too. To cover the rentals and all that. It comes out of the big fund.”

“Thought you needed the big fund to get to the parade.”

“Well, when we get Megan here, the big fund will be pretty big, right?” I nudged him with my elbow. “At least try out. They’ll have rookie camp for the new students—mostly freshmen and stuff, but also people from other grades who want to join, so you could get all caught up.”

He nodded. “Maybe.”

The back door flew open then, and Brit burst through, Dash following at a more sedate pace.

“Are we interrupting?” Brit said, plopping down next to me and forcing me into August’s side. “I hope not.”

“We were just talking about band stuff,” I said.

“Sexy,” Brit replied, and then leaned across me to August. “You should see Soph on the clarinet. It’s a reed instrument. Lots of tongue action.” She winked, hugely. “Just think of the possibilities. Connect the dots. Between that. And”—she gestured vaguely at his crotch—“all that.”

“Brit.”

“Sophie.” Her eyes were wide and guileless.

“You don’t get how a reed instrument works” is all I could say.

“Of course not, I play snare drum.”

I glanced at August, but he just looked amused. “Is my dick the clarinet? Or the reed? We’re working on a really different size scale either way.”

“What are we talking about?” Terrance asked, pushing through the door with a plastic cup in each hand, Flora right behind him.

“Clarinet-size dick,” Dash replied as Terrance handed him one of the cups.

“Oh geez, can you imagine?” Terrance said.

“I don’t have to imagine,” August said. “That’s pretty much the situation down there.”

Flora’s eyes widened.

“He’s joking,” I told her.

“Dead serious. It’s a total liability.”

Flora started laughing, and then waving her hands in the air as if to get our attention, and then laughing some more.

“What?”

“Just th-th-thinking—” she stuttered, shoulders shaking. “You’d have to use—one of those long plastic bags—that newspapers come in—as a—When you—To protect—” She flapped her hands. “For sex!”

“Flora Maria Feliciano, how dare you,” Brit said as Flora dabbed tears from the corners of her eyes.

“Everyone else gets to make jokes! I don’t get to make jokes?”

“No, it was good,” Terrance said. “I like where your head is at.”

“We know where August’s head is at,” Flora said, and clapped a hand to her mouth, withdrawing it only momentarily to screech: “His knees!”

It was a while before the resulting group reaction died down.