Good Until it Hurts

35. Glass Rain

School starts a few weeks after that. I just turn around in bed, burrow my face down into the pillow when it's time to get up, and lucky me, Tim's already out so he don't know about it. It's easy to fall back to sleep, and when I finally drag myself out of bed it's already lunch time, and it's too late to go. I dress and count my quarters, if I can afford to call Scott today, but it don't seem like it. Fuck it, then.

I go out instead, walk around aimlessly, lift a pack of smokes, run into stupid Gene Barnes at the park. He smirks at me, and I think of maybe starting a fight with him, 'cause it would feel real good to punch his stupid face, but then he passes me a bottle of jack that's almost full, so we end up drinking instead. It's fine until he starts to brag about his second cousin the River King, saying he went to jail like it's a good thing. He talks and talks about it, and then he suddenly asks what's juvie like, that it can't be as hard as prison, and I tell him to shut up, 'cause I really don't want to talk about it. It makes him pissed, but who cares, the bottle of jack is empty anyway, so I aim it at a trashcan and say nice talking to you, even if it wasn't.

I go home after that, to wait for Davy to be finished with school. It's weird, thinking he's at Will Rogers now, and I still have two years left before I will go there, and we're the same age. But I don't think I will go, since I have to finish junior high first, and I won't do that. I guess I should try and find a job instead, getting my own money, maybe my own place. Maybe move to Oklahoma City or something. I really like that thought.

It takes another week until Tim realizes I haven't been to school. He don't say much about it, though, I guess he reckon he can't get me to go, if he don't want to drag me there every day, and it ain't like I'm not gonna put up a fight about it. He shakes his head and says it's my life, and I snort at him, 'cause it ain't like he graduated either. But sometimes he looks at me like he just knows I'm gonna screw up my life big time, and I remember the time we talked about juvie, how he seems sure I'm gonna end up there again. But I'm gonna do everything I can to not go back there. Even if it's hard to not shop lift or smoke a joint sometimes.

I feel kind of serious about getting a job, so I start to ask around a bit, but all I get is looks up and down and 'No' or 'We ain't hiring' even if they have a sign that they do, and I guess maybe I should dress a bit better, than jeans with holes and a ratty t-shirt, and maybe lie about my age, too. Buts screw them, I don't need a job. Who wants to pump gas into cars or flip burgers anyway. It was a stupid idea.

I think it's real nice, not having to get up early in the mornings or being nagged at never doing my homework, but I'm almost bored out of death most days. Everyone I know is at school or work, and I spend the mornings smoking and watching TV, and then I go out, thinking a lot about what my friends do, and what Scott is doing, but I figure he's in school and reading a lot. I'm glad I didn't told him my plan of trying to get a job, 'cause maybe he would be disappointed it didn't work out.

xXx

I move around in the small space of the telephone booth, take a step to the left, then right, then back again. I have a cigarette in my free hand, but I hardly smoke it. Scott is talking about a new friend he just met, and I feel jealous, even if I should be happy he don't have to be alone. But I want him to not be alone with me.

"So, what, you gonna hang out with him this weekend?" I interrupt him when he starts talking about some party they are invited to, even if I know it's unfair 'cause I party all the time with my friends, too.

"Um, yeah."

"I thought you could come here," I say sullenly, even if I hadn't planned to. I know he shouldn't come here, not when we can run into someone I know. "What about this week, then? You could come on Monday."

"Not Monday, I have school. Don't you?"

Shit. I realize I haven't told him I haven't been going to school. I guess I just thought since he's smart and all, he wouldn't understand.

"I ain't goin' anymore. They wanted me to start over eight grade," I confess, kicking my foot against the wall. "No way in hell I'm gonna do that. I dropped out."

Something stings my finger, and I drop the cigarette, shaking my hand.

"What are you doing instead, then?"

I don't know what to say. I feel like an idiot.

"Curly?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry about Jake, I told you he's just a friend. You know I like you."

"Yeah?" I feel how I start smiling, dipping my head as I glance around, but the street outside is empty.

"I could come next weekend," Scott says, and my heart flutters. "Stay a couple of days if you want to."

"Yeah, that's cool."

xXx

I know we have to be real careful. I have to figure out a few things, like where to go to not being seen. First I think of going to Buck's, see if he has some room Scott can crash in for a night, but that's probably stupid, 'cause Tim is hanging out there a lot. And no way I'm gonna take him home. But maybe I can find some money so he can rent a room at a motel. I ask Angie first, but she just laughs in my face, continuing to brushing her hair, so I go find Tim, who's still at home.

"I need money," I tell him, watching him work on his car.

"What for?"

"I just need it."

"Go get a job, then."

"Yeah, I tried that but no one would give me any."

He glances up from the hood. "I'm kinda low on cash right now."

"I just need like, fifty bucks." I have no idea what a motel costs, but I figure it's expensive, so better be safe.

"Shit, Curly, what trouble are you in?"

"I ain't in trouble!"

He frowns at me, and I guess he don't believe me. But I can't tell the truth anyway, so screw him then. I tell him that, cursing loudly as I turn around to leave.

xXx

I still haven't figured it out, where he's gonna sleep, but I guess we can stay out all night if we have to. I walk to the station early like last time, feeling all jittery and excited, smoking a whole pack as I wait. Only when the bus comes, he don't walk off it. I stand outside, watching people climbing down the stairs until no one else is leaving, but no Scott. And I'm sure it was that bus he said he would be taking.

I walk to the middle door and take a step up the stairs, but he ain't there when I look around, and then the driver comes and tells me to show my ticket or get off. So I do, feeling really confused, but maybe I got the time wrong. I go to look at the time table, but I can't figure it out, so I go back to the bus to ask the bus driver when the next bus is coming. And then I wait, but he don't get off that bus, either. And not the next one. And I start to feel real hungry and grumpy, spending hours just sitting on a bench at the station, so I get up and leave.

Maybe he said Sunday and not Saturday. But I'm sure he said Saturday, that he could stay the night, and he has school on Monday. But I must be wrong 'cause he wouldn't ditch me, would he? Maybe he's hanging out with that other guy instead, regretting he said he would visit me.

Or he forgot about that he said he would come. But why would he do that?

I walk a few miles from the station, and then I walk back and wait again, and after a while there is another bus from Oklahoma City but still no Scott.

xXx

I go home. Tim's there with a few from his gang, and he's real pissed, standing outside our house and staring at his car. I stop close and wonder what the fuss is about, when I notice his flat tires, and it's just not one wheel but all four of them.

"Shit," I say.

"You know anything about this, Curly?" Tim growls at me, opening and closing his fist. "I fuckin' hope you don't!"

And I don't know why I lie, maybe I'm just real pissed, too, of Scott who didn't show and Tim, for always blaming me for things, thinking I'm trouble. I know if I say a name it will be a fight, but I can't really say it's someone in a rival gang, 'cause that would start a war. So I just say I saw Dallas Winston do it, even if I think shit, I should have said Gene Barnes instead, 'cause he's stupid enough to pull a stunt like that, but it's really too late to change my mind 'cause Tim heard it.

xXx

I go call Scott but no one picks up at his house.

xXx

Something is up. I can tell right away, and it ain't just 'cause Tim's face is bruised. I bet he found Winston yesterday, but his expression is so serious I forget that I'm still mad at him, asking what's up.

And Tim tells me about the dead Soc and that Pony Curtis and the other kid Johnny are missing.

"Shit, they killed him?" I say. My stomach knots itself real painful, and my hands get all clammy, 'cause what, they are going to juvie now? Maybe they even go to prison? I almost can't breathe, and I almost can't listen to Tim talking about what he knows, 'cause all the memories hit me real hard, like punches, and I need to get out of the house.

I need for Scott to pick up the damn phone.

xXx

I go to the station again, in case I had the wrong day. No Scott. I wait two hours, and then I go to a pay phone, calling, no answer.

xXx

It feels like everything is going to hell. Tim tells me this and that, saying to lay low, saying to be careful 'cause the Socs are more than pissed, but he don't care to take me with him when he leaves with Ralph in his car. I sit down in our couch and smoke, wishing I had a joint, 'cause all I can think of is Scott and juvie and Pony and Bennett and what happened. I feel real messed up. Especially since I think Scott is avoiding me, probably hanging out with that Jake-guy instead, and I feel fucking tricked, that he maybe lied to me all along.

Davy comes by and wants to talk about the murder, and I go to the park with him, but the fuzz have closed the area around the fountain and one stands there watching, making sure no one gets close enough to see anything. Only there ain't anything to see, what I can tell. No blood or nothing, even if we heard he got stabbed.

"That's where it happened," Davy says, almost excited.

I smoke a lot and haven't eaten for days, 'cause I'm not hungry. I tell Davy I need to go home, that I don't feel so great, and we split ways. But I don't go home, I search for another pay phone, and this time he needs to pick up. I really need to talk to him, ask if I did something wrong, if it's maybe 'cause I told him I dropped out that he don't want anything to do with me anymore.

The signals go by and by and my stomach clenches painfully. I slam the receiver down, then lift it again, punching in the number hard. I don't need a note anymore, I have the phone number in my head, but what if I have it wrong? Maybe that's why he don't pick up? Maybe I should hang up and go home and check.

"Hello?"

I get so surprised I almost drop the receiver. It's his pa answering, I think, but he sounds weird. I fucking hate when one of his parents are picking up, even if they never give me any trouble, but this time I feel more relieved that someone picked up at all.

"Scott there?" I ask.

"Who is this?"

"Curly. I really need to talk to Scott."

His pa don't answer.

"If he don't wanna talk to me, just tell him it's just for a minute," I almost plead. There is some sound in the background, like someone is putting the phone down, but I can still hear someone talking so at least they didn't hang up. I wait, expecting Scott to pick up, but it ain't him when I finally hear someone getting back.

"Hello?" It's another male voice, but I have no idea of who it is.

"Scott there?" I say, almost desperate now.

"Are you a friend of the family?" he asks, voice thick.

"I just wanna talk to Scott!"

"There was an accident."

"What?" I grip the receiver tighter. Try to ignore the worry staring to rise, the sudden pain in my chest. An accident don't mean it has to be Scott who's hurt. It can be his ma or something.

"I'm real sorry, but Scott passed away in a car accident this Thursday. Are you a friend of his? I can -"

I hang up.

xXx

I gasp for breath, double over, hands clutched over my stomach, squeezing my eyes shut, my head buzzing.

xXx

I don't know how I get out of the phone booth. Don't know how I end up outside a closed liquor store. I stare at the bottles in the window, my eyes stinging, my face flushed.

I know what I need. I need to get drunk, get high, get away. Need to scream, slam my arms through the window. I feel desperate to numb it, the pain searing through my body, the words clawing inside me, ripping me to pieces, the voice repeating over and over and over.

Scott passed away in a car accident this Thursday.

But he didn't! I didn't wait for him all Saturday and Sunday and today and he didn't come 'cause he's dead. He didn't come 'cause he couldn't.

He ain't dead 'cause he can't be. I need him. I need him.

My head is spinning, spinning, spinning. My whole body is hurting. It hurts so much I don't know what to do.

I kick at the window. Hard. Harder.

Desperately.

My eyes sting worse. My breaths won't come out normally.

I need to get drunk.

It's a fucking joke! I call him back tomorrow and it's a fucking joke!

I kick at the window again and it finally shatters, glass raining down around me, the window broken just like me.

The End

I hope you don't hate me now... no happy ending :(

It wasn't easy to write this, but I had it planned from the beginning. Sometimes I have thought about changing my mind, but I couldn't - the story starts with this and had to end with this. Curly's second time in juvie was for breaking into a liquor store, and after the first time, he wouldn't risk going back for "nothing".

Thank you all who have read this story and a special thanks to you who have reviewed! Thank you so much for your support, you are the best! :)