“What I didn’t tell Theo,” Auggie said, “is that I like fucking around with cars because sometimes it feels really good not to know if you’re going to live or die.” Clicking on the hazard lights, Auggie slid out of the car. “Have a good night, Orlando. Guess I’ll see you back in the dorm.”
Orlando’s face was pale as he stared at Auggie.
Then Auggie shut the door and started walking. He squished along the shoulder of the state highway, heading back to campus. He paused at the edge of town, at Theo’s street, and squinted, but he couldn’t see the little brick house. Then he walked on again. He stopped for a second time at the stretch of road where he’d driven the Porsche into the drainage ditch. He remembered sitting on the asphalt after Theo had punched him. He remembered the heat of the road on the September night. Grabbing up the pack of smokes that had fallen out of his sleeve. Wanting so badly to be cool, to be popular, to be liked, even after some asshole had just loosened his teeth.
Well, so long and fuck off to that kid, Auggie thought, and he kept walking.
18
By Thursday night, Theo knew he had waited too long; he had made a mistake. He sat in his kitchen, the last Christmas ale on the table in front of him, the Percocet just far enough that he’d have to stretch to reach it. He liked the ale’s ginger and cinnamon and honey. He liked how the taste complemented the lingering scent of sawdust; Cart had been here earlier, and the floor was almost finished. He liked how his classes had gone that day. He liked that he’d biked to campus and back and still didn’t feel like he needed the cane, although he thought he might pay double for it tomorrow. He liked everything except for the fact that he was a low-down, shitty coward, because he still hadn’t tried to talk to Auggie.
Theo took another long drink of the ale, felt distant panic at the realization that the bottle was almost empty, and told himself it was just a normal response when you were almost out of beer. He reached for the Percocet without getting up; his fingertips fell short of the plastic bottle. He’d biked to and from campus today. He’d done really well without the cane. He didn’t need a pill, maybe not technically. But maybe—maybe he could think of it as preventative. Maybe taking one tonight, he’d sleep better. He wouldn’t feel it when his leg stiffened up. He’d wake up tomorrow refreshed and ready to go. Sure, yeah. That sounded like the way a normal person thought.
But he just took another drink and sat there.
The problem was that he had waited too long. If he’d sought out Auggie the day after their fight, if he’d made Auggie sit down and talk to him—and Theo knew he’d have to force him to talk, because he knew how badly he’d hurt Auggie—if he’d done any of that, they could have figured it out. But instead, Auggie had gone and posted the video. And that meant that Auggie had gone to Lender and made some kind of deal. Theo hadn’t been able to stop himself; since Cart had shown him that video, Theo had gotten on his computer every day and checked Auggie’s social media accounts. Radio silence on all fronts. The numbers dropping by the tens of thousands every day.
Auggie had thrown his whole life away for Theo. And Theo knew he should feel grateful. Theo knew he should head straight to Auggie’s dorm and thank him on hands and knees, thank him for putting an end to this madness, thank him for sacrificing himself to protect Theo and Lana. But Theo didn’t feel grateful. He felt so shitty he wanted to die, and the only times he didn’t feel that bad were when he was teaching, or when he was drinking, or when he was limping around the house doing gopher jobs for Cart. And how many times could Cart ask him to clear the nail gun or check the compressor before the joke got old?
A sound came from the front of the house, and Theo tensed, his fingertips white on the Great Lakes bottle. Not a knock. But a footstep, maybe. Not Cart; Cart had picked up a swing shift because two patrol officers had called in sick. Auggie?
Theo was up and moving before he could reconsider. He was limping more than he expected, and he checked the front room as he moved through it. Cart had brought over an old TV to replace the one that had been destroyed, so that was all right, because sometimes Auggie wanted to watch basketball. And the pile of books and papers on the couch would have to be moved. And thank God Theo had taken the pills into the kitchen.
When he opened the door, though, the porch was empty: just a dusting of snow and the yellow glare of the porch light. A raccoon, maybe. Or just the wind knocking something around. Theo was closing the door when he saw a single pair of footprints in the snow on the porch. Their shape was fresh and distinct. He hesitated, shut the door, and bolted it.
For a moment, he stood there. Auggie had cut a deal with Lender. The running clock wasn’t running anymore. Nobody wanted anything from Theo. Lender had been dealt with. Lender would have gotten the Ozark Volunteers to back off. The whole thing was done and over.
A board creaked.
An old house, Theo thought. Just an old house. Cart said the joists need serious work. And you thought maybe he was just making up reasons to hang around, but maybe he was right. An old house, and the floors creak, and that’s all, the end of it.
He spent ten more seconds
