Winger

o-hall that night

JOEY NEVER SHOWED UP.

Something was wrong, and I knew it. I could feel it jangling my nerves like the sound of the empty whiskey bottle I’d kicked when I walked the hallway in the dark the night before.

I got back to O-Hall at about four o’clock that afternoon.

The place was quiet and empty, which was typical for a Friday afternoon. Downstairs, everything had been cleaned up from the night before. But I was still sick from that lingering feeling you just can’t shake after waking up from a terrible nightmare—remembering the muddy shoeprints, the water on the floor, the shower running in the bathroom, and those weird sounds I’d heard coming from the woods.

But it wasn’t a dream. Kevin Cantrell knew that. He knew enough about O-Hall and the boys we lived with, though, so it was no big deal to Kevin.

I could not make it not a big deal.

I was stressed out and in a bad mood from everything that had happened; and I wished I didn’t feel so alone, that Annie could be there with me.

As I passed by the downstairs hall door, I decided to go for a run before dinner.

I froze when I saw Mrs. Singer watching me from the other side of the door. I wasn’t about to open it, but somehow, she didn’t scare me as much as she used to. I still wouldn’t look at her face, though.

I just watched the doorknob and listened to see if she was going to come out.

She didn’t.

I went up to my room and changed out of my clothes and into my running things.

I didn’t go all the way up to Buzzard’s Roost. It was getting too dark, and I had to turn back. But I stopped at Stonehenge and sat down for a while on that same fallen tree where I’d sat so many times with Annie Altman.

I missed her so much. Even though she’d only been gone for a few hours, it felt like I’d never see her again.

I walked the wishing circle.

That night, Chas and I watched television with Mr. Farrow. Awkward. It was like sitting in a sauna naked together. We were the only ones left in O-Hall, but we didn’t say anything to him, or to each other. I could tell Mr. Farrow was uncomfortable around me, though, and I probably would have thought it was funnier if I could only get rid of the creepy feeling that I hadn’t been able to shake since the day before.

So, later, when we were lying in bed, I was so frustrated and sick of the silence that I actually broke down and started talking to Chas Becker.

“So, did you break up with Megan, or was it the other way around?”

I heard Chas exhale and roll over.

He didn’t say anything for about a minute, and then, finally, “Why do you fucking care?”

“ ’Cause I can’t stand how quiet it’s been.”

“She broke up with me. So, go for it, little Pussboy.”

“I already told you about that, Chas,” I said. “I’m sorry. Me and Megan aren’t doing anything.” I folded my hands behind my head and sighed. “Did the cops come and talk to you?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

Chas grunted. “What could I say? That we drink booze and play poker and do crazy shit? That maybe Joey’s just doing some stupid consequence or something? I don’t know anything about Joey. He just ran away.”

“Yeah. I hope he’s okay. I hope he comes back.”

“I always thought you guys seemed a little gay for each other,” Chas said.

I wanted to say, ask your girlfriend how gay I am, Betch, but I’d had enough fighting for a while.

“You’re an . . .” But I stopped myself because I didn’t want to cuss at him. “That’s messed up, Chas. Can’t Joey have any friends without it being about that? Aren’t you his friend too?”

“Me?” Chas said. “I don’t have any fucking friends.”

Go figure.

At least he was smart enough to know that much.

Chas Becker really was a genius, when it came to knowing how pathetic he was.