Crush

Megan Stevens, whose father was a doctor, had posted.

Thank God! Emma’s awake. Dad says she woke up at three and asked for a glass of water. I already told you about the X-rays, no serious damage. So I think we can all breathe a little better. Dad thinks she’s going to be okay. Totally okay. Thank God!

“Thank God,” is right, Jonathan thought. A night’s worth of tension fell from his shoulders. He smiled, even laughed a little with relief. He went over the post again and then again to make sure he had read the note properly, letting the wonderful news sink in and be real.

…She’s going to be okay. Totally okay.

Jonathan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He signed off of the Web, shut down his computer, and went to bed.

Friday night Jonathan stood at the counter at Perky’s. His father had shown up at home late that afternoon seeming flush with cash. He gave Jonathan forty bucks and told him to “make a night of it.”

Some night. All day he’d thought about visiting Emma in the hospital, but fear of embarrassment kept him away. He didn’t really know her. They weren’t close, no matter how badly he wanted to believe they could be. So he’d struggled with going, talked himself out of it, and then struggled some more. Finally he’d decided to stay away. Her real friends would be visiting; her family would be there. She was okay, and for now that had to be enough.

So he hadn’t gone to the hospital, and he didn’t know what to do. David already had plans. He was going to dinner with his parents. Jonathan didn’t want to go to a movie by himself because that just screamed “loser,” and he certainly wasn’t going to sit around the house to see his father’s good mood cross the finish line. He’d walked down to the outdoor mall and browsed through the DVD store for about an hour, checking out the latest titles. He’d checked out the electronics store, comparing the specs on digital cameras, televisions, PlayStations and X Boxes. Things he couldn’t afford—not if he wanted to get out of Warren and away from his parents—but things he definitely wanted.

Then he found himself outside of Perky’s. The usual high-school crowd was gathered, with the notable exceptions of Emma and Toby Skabich. Ox and Cade were inside, sharing a small round-topped table with a couple of girls Jonathan didn’t recognize.

Whatever, Jonathan thought. Without Toby, Ox and Cade seemed to have become helpless. They were like a snake without a head.

He walked into Perky’s and went right up to the counter and ordered himself a mochachino, because he’d always wanted to try one. (And maybe with the leftover cash I can send flowers to the hospital…for Emma.) The guy behind the counter reminded him of Myrna from Bentley’s Bookstore Cafe. He spoke slowly, his eyes clouded and distant. Maybe all coffee clerks were a little burned out.

Jonathan grabbed his drink and turned from the counter to begin the search for a table. It was unlikely. On Fridays, from the moment school let out until the shop closed, the place was slammed. Kids came and went in shifts. A lot of adults, too. But luck was on his side, and he found a small table in the back shoved against the window, across a narrow alley from the men’s room.

The counter blocked his view of Ox and Cade, which meant it blocked their view of him, and Jonathan was happy as hell about that. He pulled a book from his backpack and opened it on the table.

He wouldn’t read. The book was a prop. Nothing more. It was weird enough being out on a Friday night. Usually he hung out at David’s, watching direct-to-DVD trashy slasher movies. But David had plans. Jonathan was on his own, but he didn’t want to just sit in Perky’s staring at everyone. So, he pulled out the book.

He’d picked the paperback based on its lurid cover. Something cheesy, so people wouldn’t tag him as too brainy. He had no idea what the book was about, just one of the dozen remainders he’d bought cheap from the store and brought home. It didn’t matter what it was about, though. It was, after all, just a prop.

Every time he stopped moving, every time he wasn’t distracted by conversation or motion, he thought about Emma. Or he thought about the murders.

All week at school, everyone had been in mourning, talking endlessly about how “great” Toby had been. Even the kids he’d picked on joined in the chorus of his coolness. A lot of the kids looked scared, and Jonathan understood that. What he didn’t understand was how so many of Toby’s victims could suddenly act like they’d lost such a great friend. He felt bad Toby was dead, but he just couldn’t bring himself to join his fan club.

He took a sip of his drink and was surprised by how sweet it was. It tasted good and all, but he was used to coffee tasting like coffee. He never used sugar, rarely added milk. The taste so surprised him that he swallowed wrong and started coughing, just about the time Ox appeared over the counter.

Like his name suggested, Ox was huge. His legs were probably bigger around than Jonathan’s waist. He had black hair cut short to his head, and his cheeks were stubbled with a five-o’clock shadow that belonged on a guy twice his age. He was dumb and cocky, a typical combination for a high-school hero, but when he saw Jonathan, he looked surprised, even embarrassed. He nodded quickly as he passed, making his way to the restroom.

Jonathan didn’t know how to respond, so he dropped his head and pretended to read his book until the men’s room door closed. He took another sip of the too-sweet coffee.

When Ox emerged from the men’s room, Jonathan was pretending to read again. He didn’t look up, so he was startled when Ox sat down in the chair opposite him.

“Hey,” Ox said.

Jonathan was almost too stunned to respond. He closed the book and searched the room over Ox’s shoulder, expecting to find Cade barreling down as part of an attack.

“Hey,” he replied nervously.

“Good book?” Ox asked.

“There’s a lot of blood,” Jonathan said, though he had no idea if that was true or not. He thought it sounded dumb enough to impress Ox.

“Cool,” Ox said, nodding his head several times after the word had left his lips. He seemed undecided about something, and he did an odd thing with his lips, sucking them in between his teeth as if he was preparing to heft a tremendous weight. “Look,” he finally said, “Cade and I were talking earlier, and we feel like crap for what’s been going on. Really, man. That locker stuff was Toby’s thing. It was just for laughs, you know? But it was totally lame.”

Was he apologizing? Jonathan couldn’t be sure. He didn’t say anything, just watched Ox, who looked at him, then the table, then the floor.

“It’s like nothing against you or anything,” Ox said. “It’s just something we did…for laughs, right? I don’t want you to think we have anything against you. I mean, it was Toby’s deal. Cade and I were just always there.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said. You were always there. Laughing. High-fiving like a pack of morons. No. Like a pride of morons, he thought.

“It’s like, I can’t believe he’s gone. You know?”

“Sorry,” Jonathan said. It seemed like the right response, but it felt awkward on his tongue.

“Yeah. Thanks. You’re a cool guy. I guess I kind of always knew that,” Ox said. “You’re a bit scrawny, but a good guy.”

Ox was trying to make a joke. Jonathan forced a smile, still thinking the monstrous kid was a dickhead, but maybe a lower-level dickhead than he’d once believed.

“Thanks, man,” Jonathan replied.

“So, we’re cool?” Ox asked.

“Sure.”

“Cool,” Ox said rapping the table with one of his giant hands. “Yeah. Okay. Cool. I gotta get back over there. I just…okay. Cool.”

Ox stood. He appeared confused about which way to walk. He leaned toward Jonathan, who flinched. Ox rapped him lightly on the shoulder. A friendly gesture. Then he turned and made his way around the counter, leaving Jonathan stunned, confused, and relieved.

What the hell is going on? he wondered. Were things actually getting better for him?

Then he lifted his drink for another sip and paused with a cloud of whipped cream against his lip.

Kirsty Sabine walked into the coffee house.