Chapter 21

The Clearwater Marriott was a lavish ten-story hotel, with a sparkling white and gray marble facade, and an ornate entrance way out front. The sun had set almost an hour ago, and it was very warm, though a cool breeze blew in from the Gulf. Cars lined up around the block, as teenage couples wearing ill-fitting rented tuxedoes and fancy dresses stepped out onto the curb.

"Where the fuck am I gonna park?" wailed Sky, frustrated with the never-ending traffic jam ahead of us.

"I know the area," said Ginny, who sat next to me in the back seat of Sky's GTO. "Pull over there," she said, pointing to an empty parking lot a block down the street. "That's for the City Pier, but you can still use it at night."

"Good idea!" I said.

Sky slammed the car in reverse and peeled out, and in two minutes we were walking up the sidewalk to the hotel.

"Man, this is a great building," I said, tugging at my shirt collar, which was strangling me. "How could they possibly construct a hotel this tall on the beach, without it sinking into the sand?"

"Simple," said Ginny, as she slipped her hand around my waist. "They use pile-drivers to put dozens of long concrete slabs into the ground, then they reinforce them to make the foundation. The building actually sits on top of those concrete posts, not the sand."

I glanced over at her and smiled. "How the heck do you know so much about this stuff?" I laughed.

"Well, Mr. Genius," she said, smiling. "You're not the only one who reads books and does research. And besides -- my father's an architect. He told me about this place when they were building it last year."

I laughed and glanced over at Sky. He and Melissa weren't talking much. I crossed my fingers that the night would go okay.

The band inside the banquet room was fairly polished. Somebody told me they were some hot local group from Miami, which I didn't doubt. They were a lot better than Pete's little combo, that's for sure.

Shit -- Pete. I hadn't thought about him in weeks. I should've called him. What was that he said the last time I saw him? He said he'd wait for me -- 'when I was ready, and the karma's right.' What the fuck did that mean?

"Here's your drink!" said Ginny, handing me a glass. She leaned over and whispered, "I think somebody's already spiked the punch."

"As long as it's not LSD," I muttered, as I took a sip. Blah. Whatever it was, I thought, it still tasted like shit.

I still hated dancing. While Ginny and I struggled with our little modified twist, I glanced over at the other couples. Most of them looked relaxed and totally comfortable, like they were having a great time. I felt like a complete and total idiot.

"You don't look like you're having a good time," said Ginny, leaning into me.

I smiled wanly. "I'm the most uncoordinated guy in the room," I said.

Ginny looked up and kissed me. "Not to me," she said, grinning.

"Thanks," I said. I decided to pick up the pace a bit and imitate a move I saw one of the teens do a few couples away from us. I lifted up my arms and spun around, but almost immediately collided into someone. I looked up and saw the angry face of Ben Kingston, the linebacker on the Tampa Central football team.

I immediately stopped and backed up. "B-Ben!" I said. I hadn't forgotten what he'd done to Tim back in the locker room a few weeks earlier.

"Watch it, Larson, you fuckin' dick!" he snarled.

"Sorry, man," I said, meekly. "I'm a total klutz at this."

"That's okay." He laughed and leaned down towards me, glancing over at Ginny. "Hey, Wil," he whispered. "You gonna slip her that giant salami of yours? She looks like she really needs it."

I winced, but didn't answer.

Ben stood back up and laughed wickedly, then went back to dancing with his girlfriend.

"What did he say to you?" said Ginny, giving Ben a look and pulling me back by the shoulders.

"He said they were serving food in the other room," I said, taking her hand. "Let's go get something to eat."

By 11:15, we were all pretty beat. Ginny and I stood near the entrance, anxiously looking for Sky and Melissa.

"Where the hell are those two?" I fumed. "I'd like to get home at some point." Inside, I was actually thinking about what Sky and I would be doing later on tonight, on the boat.

Ginny looked back into the ballroom, which had to have at least a thousand raucous kids on the dance floor. The band was performing a pretty fair cover version of Sly & The Family Stone's "Dance to the Music," and the floor pounded with the beat.

Suddenly, we heard a noise from the hallway behind us. There was a lot of yelling, like somebody was having a knock-down, screaming argument. Oh, shit, I thought. It sounded like Sky and Melissa.

Ginny and I looked each other, and we both winced.

"It's them, isn't it?" she said.

I nodded. We trotted down the hall and turned the corner. Sky and Melissa were nose-to-nose, yelling at each other at the top of their lungs.

"Just go to hell, Sky!" she shouted.

"You stupid BITCH!" he yelled. "I knew I never should've taken you here in the first place!"

"I've had enough of this," she snapped. She looked over and saw me and Ginny, staring at her. "Ginny, I'm leaving. Can your aunt give me a ride back home?"

Ginny turned to me, with a look of concern on her face.

I nodded to her. "Go ahead," I said, quietly. "I'll be okay. I'll get out of here somehow. I'll call you tomorrow," I said.

"You're a doll," she said, giving me a little peck on the cheek.

Melissa stormed out the side entrance and walked over to the sidewalk. Ginny shrugged her shoulders and made a helpless expression, then ran out right behind her.

Sky stood there, fuming.

"Hey, nice night for a fight, huh?" I said, sarcastically.

"Go fuck yourself," he said.

I leaned forward. "You know," I said quietly, "it's long enough that I think I might just be able to do that." I grinned and wiggled my eyebrows.

"Go to hell, Wil!" he snapped, and walked out the door.

What the fuck is this, I thought. Oh, screw it. Sky had been pretty moody lately -- probably just the pressure of final exams. I decided to go back inside, sit down, and listen to the band, which had just started playing a really good cover version of The Beach Boys' new hit, "I Can Hear Music," which was one of my total faves. I winced on a couple of the band's bad harmonies, but I decided to avoid jumping up on stage and trying to help them out this time.

As the song ended, I thought about what I'd been through over the past year. I felt like Sky and I had come full circle with each other. We'd been friends almost forever, then we just about fell apart at Christmas. Now, summer was just about here, and we were closer than ever -- more than I ever thought possible. I decided then and there, I'd have to stay going to Tampa Central. I knew that was the best way I could continue seeing Sky. We'd find a way to avoid letting anybody know what was going on. And after we graduated in a few years... well, that was too far away to think about just yet.

I glanced at my watch. Shit -- it was already 11:30. I walked out the side door and looked around. Sky was nowhere in sight. I walked down the street and found his GTO was still in the parking lot next door, but it was locked and empty. Where could he be? I looked over at the City Pier and saw a forlorn figure standing on the dock in the shadows, looking out towards the Gulf.

I ran across the stretch of sand that separated the parking lot and the pier, and climbed up the ladder. The figure turned and looked at me. It was Sky. Tears were running down his face.

"What the fuck do you want?" he snarled, turning away from me.

"Hey," I said softly. "What's the problem, man?"

He started sobbing. "I don't fuckin' know," he said, through his tears.

We walked a few feet down the dock until we found an open space, then sat down on the side and let our legs dangle over the edge. I put my arm around his shoulders.

"Melissa just drives me fuckin' nuts," he said, wiping his eyes. "I swear, part of me really loves her, but then she gets so totally stupid about everything, I'd just like to... Sometimes I'd like to just fuckin' strangle her!"

"C'mon, Sky," I said, soothingly. "Don't let her get to you. Listen, you and I are still gonna go back to the boat, right?"

He nodded, then turned his head and kissed me.

I grinned. "Hey, maybe I could get Ginny to find you somebody else."

"Yeah," he said, attempting to smile. "I think I'm too fucked-up over Melissa. Maybe I should start seein' somebody new."

"Let's go," I said, standing up. "She's gone back with Ginny to her aunt's place. She'll get her a ride home."

Sky stood up and looked over at me. The moon was shining bright, and I could see it reflecting in his blue eyes. He'd let his hair grow a little longer, now that football season was over. I hadn't noticed before that his sideburns were starting to grow in.

"Hey," I said, tickling the side of his face. "You're turning into the wolfman!"

Sky laughed. "Oh, yeah," he said. "I'm gettin' in some sideburns. Pretty cool, huh?"

I sighed. "I probably won't be able to grow any sideburns for another two years at least," I said. "I'll be 14 next month. Shit, I'm lucky if I shave even once a week."

"Shut up, Wil," he said. He took me in his arms and kissed me, hard. We stood there for thirty seconds, and he gently reached down to my groin. In moments, I was rigid. I felt his tongue move past my teeth, and I moaned. I closed my eyes and put my hand on the back of his head.

Suddenly, we heard laughter behind us. We froze and broke off our kiss, then turned.

It was Melissa. She was standing on the dock ladder, one foot on the wooden deck, the other on the top rung.

"I... can't believe it!" she laughed. She pulled herself up and walked towards us.

"What are you doin' here?" Sky snapped.

"I came back to get my purse from your car," she said, still laughing. "But instead, I found you two... Oh, this is too much!" She laughed again, still louder this time, but I saw an enraged look in her eyes.

Sky took a step forward. "Shut up, Melissa!" he cried.

She was almost hysterical. "I always knew Wil was... different. Even you said he was a fag!"

My face reddened.

"But you!" she said, shaking her head, then laughing again. "Oh, my God. Wait 'till the others hear this!"

Still laughing, she started back down the ladder.

"YOU'RE NOT GONNA TELL ANYBODY ABOUT THIS, YOU BITCH!" he screamed, and leapt towards her.

She screamed, her hands clawing at the air, and she fell backwards. Sky lay on the dock, gasping for breath, and I ran over to him and helped him up. We stared over the edge.

Melissa lay on her back on the sand, motionless, ten feet below the pier.

"Oh Christ, oh fuck, oh shit!" he cried, as he climbed down the steps. I followed him down and jumped over the last five rungs.

We knelt beside her. Melissa lay in the sand, her black dress flowing out on the beach. The moon caught the little pearl necklace around her neck, and it sparkled and shined in the light. She looked beautiful.

I felt for a pulse. "She's... she's still alive," I said. "But I think she's hurt."

Sky turned to me. "I swear, I didn't even touch her, Wil," he whispered.

"Sky," I said. "We gotta call an ambulance."

He shook his head. "Help me lift her up."

We dragged her over to the car. Sky held her while I unlocked the doors. He slipped her into the passenger seat and fastened the seatbelt, then slammed the door.

"We really should get some help," I started.

"No," he said. "I'm gonna take her to St. Joseph's. It's only two miles on the other side of the Courtney Campbell Causeway. That's the closest hospital I know of. I can be there in less than ten minutes."

"I'm coming with you," I said, pushing past him to the back seat.

He put his hand against me. "No, Wil," he said, firmly. "This is my problem, not yours."

"It's our problem!" I yelled. "I can help, really!"

Sky shook his head. "Stay here, Wil," he said, quietly. "Go find Ginny. You can get another ride home. Gimme at least an hour, then call the hospital. I'll check her in under her name. Don't tell my folks yet -- I'll call 'em after I hear from you. I'll take care of everything."

I nodded. "Be careful, Sky," I said, as he got in the car and slammed the door.

He leaned out the window and looked up at me. "This isn't your fault, Wil."

Tears came to my eyes. I never would've convinced him to go to the prom if I'd known this would happen.

I looked at him. "I love you, Sky."

He nodded, then tried to laugh. "If we make it through this, there's still the boat."

"Hurry up, asshole!" I said.

He nodded and cranked up the engine, then screeched down the street, towards the Causeway entrance.

I trudged back to the pier and sat down. What was I going to do now? I glanced at my watch. It was just 11:45. I looked up at the moon, then realized there was a pay phone beside me.

"Who do I know around here that I could call at midnight?" I asked out loud.

Pete.

He was only ten minutes away, in Madeira Beach. I jumped up, slipped in a dime and dialed his number. He answered on the second ring.

"Thanks for calling the offices of Midnight Tunes Entertainment!"

"Pete!" I cried. "It's me, Wil."

"Shit," he said. "Something's very uncool."

"You gotta pick me up, man," I said. "Sky... we... there's been an accident. Meet me in front of the Clearwater Marriott, and I'll explain."

"I'm on my way."

Fifteen minutes later, I was holding on for dear life behind Pete on his Honda as we roared down Gandy Bridge. He'd convinced me I should just go home and call Sky from there. He agreed with Sky that I should stay out of this, at least until we found out if Melissa was okay.

"I'm starved, man!" he yelled, over the rushing wind. "Can we grab somethin' on the way to your place?"

We stopped by Steak & Shake on Dale Mabry Boulevard, which had a quick drive-through lane. Even though it was right across the street from our hated rivals at Plant High, I thought the burgers there were the best in Tampa. Pete and I each had a double cheeseburger and a chocolate shake.

"These are cosmically good, man," he said, grinning at me. "Totally cool."

I nodded. "Nothing like 'em," I said, taking another huge bite. I always loved Steak & Shake. Like Krispy Kreme doughnuts, this was one of those great Southern fast-food traditions you couldn't find in any other part of the country.

We finished our meal. I checked my watch. It was only 12:30. I still had fifteen minutes to get home and call Sky.

We hopped back on Pete's motorcycle and zoomed down the highway, then rode the two miles down Kennedy Blvd. and took a right, over to my house on El Prado. As we turned the corner, my heart stopped.

There were two police cars in our driveway, one with its lights still on.

Pete pulled up in the yard, and I hopped off, tossing him the helmet. "Wait!" he called. "Lemme come with you!"

I ran up the steps and into the living room, leaving the front door wide open. My mother was on the couch, with tears running down her face, and a cop was sitting next to her with his hand on her shoulder. The police car lights flashed through the front entrance, illuminating all of us in bizarre shades of blue and red.

She looked up at me and screamed. "Oh my God!"

Mom ran up to me and hugged me, sobbing. What was this all about?

My father got out of his chair and walked over to me. His face looked haggard and drawn. "Son -- we... we thought you were dead," he choked.

"But I'm here!" I said, annoyed. "What the hell's going on?"

"Do you know Schuyler Jones?" asked one of the officers.

I nodded.

My dad stood next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. "Son, I have some bad news. They found Sky's car, on the Causeway. There's been an accident. Two bodies... burned beyond recognition. We thought for certain that you..."

I collapsed to the floor, as my whole world fell apart. I began to scream. And I couldn't stop.

I kept screaming, even when my parents tried to console me.

I kept screaming, even when the police tried to gently talk to me, pleading with me to stay calm.

I kept screaming, even when Pete held me, tried to reason with me.

I kept screaming, even when the ambulance came, and they tied me down to the stretcher, and drove off into the night.

Only when they shot me with 1500 milligrams of Nembutol did my screams finally cease. I was out for almost exactly two days.

I slipped in and out of consciousness. I heard voices. Someone was saying I had some kind of breakdown. I could dimly see my parents, with Pete standing next to them. Then blackness.

It was the dream again. I was back at school. I think it was early summer. Sky and I had just finished another hard workout in the gym. We were naked in the shower together, and we were alone. I glanced up at him. His muscles rippled as the water cascaded over his tanned body. Sky turned to me, and I could see he had a huge erection.

He grinned, and reached out and pulled me over to him. I tried to protest, but he told me nobody would ever find out. He kissed me, passionately, and reached for my groin. I moaned with desire.

Suddenly, Sky opened his mouth to scream, but I heard no sound. He fell back away from me and hit the shower wall. As I watched in horror, his body burst into flames. I looked up at the faucet, but the water had stopped. Sky fell to the floor, screaming in silent agony as the flames consumed him. I desperately reached out to him, and the room went black.

I opened my eyes. The room was dark, and I couldn't see very well. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't move. My arms felt heavy.

"What... where am I?" I asked, groggily.

"I'm here, Wil." It was Pete. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder.

"I... I can't move," I said. My throat was sore for some reason.

Pete leaned down to me and whispered. "They've got you in restraints. You're in the hospital, Wil. You've been here for two days."

Suddenly, I remembered.

"Oh, god," I croaked. "It wasn't a nightmare." I began sobbing, quietly.

"No," he said. "I'm sorry, Wil. Sky's gone."

I nodded. I understood. I didn't remember anything after we got home, but I accepted what had happened.

"The nurses will kill me for this," Pete said, "but I'm gonna let your arms loose. Promise me you'll stay in bed, Wil."

"Yeah. I'm okay now."

He unbuckled the restraints and I sat up. "Tell me what happened," I said, quietly.

Pete had an expression of utter sorrow on his face. "It's all here in the paper."

He handed me yesterday's issue of the Tampa Tribune. The front page of the metro section had a medium-sized headline: "Two Local Students Killed in Fiery Crash -- Police Suspect Alcohol a Factor."

I looked at the photo beside the headline, and could see the remnants of a GTO, burned to a cinder, behind what used to be a giant Texaco tanker truck. The bridge looked pretty damaged as well. A second picture showed the rear bumper of the car mostly intact, with a 'Tampa Central Cheetahs' bumper sticker still barely visible on the back. I couldn't read the rest of it, because I didn't have my glasses or contacts, and my eyes were brimming with tears.

"Sky's dead, isn't he." I said it as a fact, not a question.

"Yes." Pete paused. "I'm going to call your parents. Stay here, and don't move. Wil, listen to me: you're alive. You've gotta stay strong, man. We'll get through this together, I promise."

I nodded. I was too exhausted to cry, or talk, or do anything. I leaned back and closed my eyes.

"You gave us quite a scare when they brought you in."

I looked up, and it was a nurse, a pretty black woman in a light green gown.

"I thought nurses only wore white," I said, sleepily.

She smiled. "We have every color of the rainbow here. I'm Nurse Janette."

I nodded. "Is it time for me to leave yet?"

She looked over at the clock. "Your parents will be here in a few hours, Wil," she said. "Listen, there's some people here to see you."

"I don't want to see anybody," I said, dully.

The nurse leaned over to me. "It's Sky's parents," she said, quietly. "I really think you should talk to them."

I sighed, then nodded my head. She opened the door.

When they walked in, I stared at their faces. Dr. Jones and his wife looked like they had aged ten years since I'd last seen them, only a few days ago.

Sky's mother hugged me. "I'm so sorry all this happened, Wil," she said, quietly. "This is not your fault. It was just an accident. We just thank God that you're alive."

Dr. Jones put his hand on my shoulder. "I can't tell you how glad we are that you weren't in the car with them. If you had, it would've been as if we'd lost two sons."

"I'm... I'm so sorry about this," I choked, starting to cry.

"No, Wil," Dr. Jones said. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about. Can you tell us one thing?"

I nodded.

"Was Sky... were Sky and Melissa drinking at the dance?"

"No," I whispered. "Only the punch. They were totally sober, I swear."

Dr. Jones nodded. "I'm glad to hear that," he said. "The autopsy isn't going well, because of the..." He almost choked, then caught himself and took a deep breath. "Because of the amount of gasoline at the scene. They hit a gas truck on the Causeway." His lower lip trembled.

I stared at him. I'd never seen Sky's father like this before. He'd always been so... so calm, so completely under control.

Mrs. Jones kissed my forehead. "You get some sleep, Wil," she said. "God bless you." They turned to leave.

"Dr. Jones?" I called. He turned back to me. "Can I... can I see Sky?"

He slowly shook his head. "I don't want you to see the body, Wil," he said, closing his eyes and bowing his head. "I want you to remember him the way he was."

Mrs. Jones began sobbing quietly, and he led her away from the room.

They released me from the hospital the next morning. My father drove the car home, and my mother sat next to me in the back, fighting back tears, with her arm around my shoulder. Sharon sat in the front seat and watched me. I could see her eyes were red and swollen.

We pulled up into the driveway, and the four of us got out of the car.

"Are you strong enough to walk upstairs, son?" asked my dad, quietly.

I nodded.

Later that afternoon, my father knocked on my door. He opened it and said, "I'm sorry to bother you, Wil. Two detectives from the police department want to talk to you."

I nodded, and two men in suits walked in. "Do you mind if we talk to your son alone, Mr. Larson?" asked one of them.

"We just want to talk to William about Schuyler Jones," the other said. "It's routine. Just some background information."

My father glanced over at me.

"It's okay, Dad. I'll talk to them," I said, quietly. My father nodded and closed the door.

"William..." the taller man began.

"It's Wil," I said, dully. "One L."

"Sorry," he said, "Wil. You were the last person to see Schuyler Jones on the night of June 7th, isn't that right?"

No, I thought. The gasoline truck driver Sky ran into was the last to see him alive, just about two seconds before all of them died.

"Yeah," I said.

"Wil, we have a difficult situation with this case," said the other man. "Did you also see Melissa Rivington that night?"

"We went to the dance together in Sky's car," I said.

He nodded. "Look, Wil," the shorter detective said, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I shouldn't be doing this, but I'm gonna give it to you straight. You know Sky and Melissa died in the car crash that night."

I nodded.

"The speedometer was frozen at 116 miles an hour, so that much we know," he said, consulting his notes. "Initially, we thought they both died instantly, along with the truck driver they rear-ended. Unfortunately, a routine autopsy determined that Melissa Rivington was already dead before the crash."

My heart stopped. I looked up at him. "That's impossible," I whispered.

"That's what we said," he replied. "Think, Wil. Did you see Sky and Melissa together again before you left?"

Before I could speak, I saw Sky's face in the dean's office. "It was all me," he was saying. "Wil had nothing to do with this." I knew what Sky would want me to say now.

"No," I said, quietly. "The last time I saw Sky was in the hotel lobby, with Ginny. Then I left with a friend of mine."

The two detectives nodded. "Yeah. Virginia Randall. That checks out with the other witnesses."

They got up to leave, then paused at my door. "Wil," the tall one said. "No one else knows about this. The department has decided it would do no good for their families to know. Two teenagers are dead, and nothing can bring them back."

I nodded. "Nothing can bring them back," I repeated.

"I'm glad you agree, Wil," he said. "Please keep all of this information to yourself. And please call our office if you remember anything else about that night."

That terrible night.

He closed the door. I lay there and stared at the ceiling for the rest of the day.

Pete came by on Wednesday to go with me to the funeral. Sky's parents called and insisted that we ride with them in the limousine, along with his brother Bill, who had come down from college, and his sister Carol.

We rode together in silence. I felt completely numb. I don't really remember what happened at the cemetery. I can see glimpses of a minister mumbling some words, crying faces, and a casket being lowered into the ground. I think Coach Lucas was there. Chuck, too. I dimly recall Ginny standing next to me, sobbing and holding my hand. I didn't feel anything. No tears. Nothing.

I didn't feel like going to Melissa's funeral the following day. We sent flowers and a note instead. I stayed in my room and put the White Album on auto-repeat.

I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Suddenly, I was conscious of a warm shape near my arm. I glanced over and it was Samantha, my sister's pet Siamese. The cat softly mewed, then licked my arm and curled up beside me. It purred happily, then put its paw out on my arm and nuzzled its head next to me. I closed my eyes and slept.

Three days went by. I cancelled my plans to join the Greater Tampa swim team. I didn't feel like doing anything. I stayed in bed mostly and just listened to music.

My parents insisted that I come with them to see a psychiatrist, but I adamantly refused. They tried to tell me I was in shock, but I shook my head. I'm just tired, I said.

"I'm so tired... I haven't slept a wink." The Beatles song from the White Album kept playing through my head, over and over again.

I kept running over the facts. No matter how I examined the equation, it always came out the same way: Sky was dead because of me.

I had helped Sky get better grades. His parents rewarded him by buying him a car. If he'd never gotten the car, he wouldn't be dead. All my fault.

Sky had fallen in love with me. He kissed me on the pier. Because of that, Melissa saw us, and she fell off the ladder and died. Sky tried to take her to the hospital, and died on the way. Still my fault.

I hadn't insisted on riding with him in the car. If I had just been there, he would've lived, I know it. My fault again.

When I felt better, I decided I would go to the library and do some research on suicide. I'd find a way to take care of it, as quickly and painlessly as I could. Maybe I'd feel up to doing it by my birthday in a few weeks.

On Saturday, there was a knock at my door. I looked up from my bed. My mother leaned her head in.

"Wil," she said. "There's someone here to see you."

"Tell them to go away," I said. "I know what it's like to be dead."

Suddenly, a voice from the outside began singing from the same Beatles song. "I know what it is to be sad. And it's makin' me feel like... I've never been born." Maybe it was John Lennon.

She opened the door and Pete walked in, grinning.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"Can I come in?" he asked.

I stared at the wall. "I won't stop you," I said.

Pete turned to my mother. "Thanks, Mrs. Larson." She nodded and closed the door. Pete walked over and sat down on my bed. He reached out and ran his fingers through my hair. He sighed.

I looked up at him. Tears began running down his face. He was shaking.

Suddenly, I started to cry. I began sobbing, first quietly, and then as loudly as I could. I sat up and wrapped my arms around him. My body was wracked with sobs. We held each other for a long time.

I don't know how he did it, but Pete managed to convince my folks to let me stay with him at his beach house for a week or so.

We mostly sat around listening to music. Sometimes, we walked up and down the beach. I didn't feel like swimming, though. I just sat on the sand and looked out at the Gulf of Mexico for hours. It was beautiful. I always loved how the sunlit waves reflected that strange greenish-blue color. I loved the sound of the surf as it foamed up on the sand and hissed away. I even liked the slightly fishy smell of the ocean, and the odd stench of the green kelp that washed up on the shore late at night.

I wondered how it would feel if I walked out into the water and started to swim, and just kept on swimming until I just couldn't swim any more. I bet I could get out there at least fifteen miles, maybe even twenty miles, easy. They'd never be able to find me after I stopped, I thought.

One day, I was sitting on a beanbag chair in Pete's bedroom, and we were listening to some Beatles 45s. I started singing along with "The Ballad of John and Yoko," which had just come out a few weeks earlier. Pete looked up and grinned at me.

"Good song, huh?" he said.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. I joined in with the chorus.

 

	"Christ, you know it ain't easy You know how hard it can be. The way things are goin' they're gonna crucify me."

Pete chuckled. "Lennon's right," he said, shaking his head. "They're gonna crucify him someday, man."

I stopped singing. "Shut up, Pete," I snapped. "That's not what he means in the song." Suddenly, I was filled with anger, and I began to sob, quietly. I wasn't even sure why.

He walked over and sat next to me, on the floor. "Wil," he said, quietly. "Listen to me. I need you to come back to earth."

I stared at him, then I shook my head. "I can't, Pete," I said, suddenly feeling very calm. "I'm going to die soon."

He laughed. "No, you're not, you douche."

He sounded so sure of himself. I hated him immediately. "Shut up," I snapped.

"Wil," he said, leaning over to me and grabbing my shoulders. "You're gonna live a long, long time. Trust me. I know."

I stared at him. "You knew that Sky was going to die, didn't you?"

He suddenly looked like he had a lifetime of pain etched on his face. "I knew it the day I met you," he said, simply.

I closed my eyes. "But you didn't tell me," I croaked.

"I tried," he said. "You saw what happened. Sky was meant to die. He was always gonna die. It was his time, man."

"No," I whispered.

"It was over water, Wil," he said, sadly. "I didn't see the bridge in my dream, but I saw his face and the fire, floating over water. That's what I couldn't understand. It was karma."

"FUCK KARMA!" I said, jumping to my feet and shaking with rage. "Fuck YOU, fuck KARMA, fuck GOD, fuck the COSMOS, fuck EVERYBODY!"

Pete looked up at me and grinned. "I agree with you," he said. "Fuck 'em all."

"Damned fucking right!" I yelled.

Pete started laughing.

"What are you laughing at, asshole?" I snarled.

"I'm laughing at an ASSHOLE!" he yelled. He laughed harder.

I started to smile. "Shut up," I said.

"Oh, pardon ME," he said, laughing. "You're trying to suffer, and I'm interrupting you!"

I glared at him. "You know I'm responsible for his death," I said, angrily. "If it wasn't for me, Sky would still be alive. Melissa, too. Even the truck driver. All because of me."

Pete laughed again. "You are such a selfish asshole, man," he said, shaking his head.

Without thinking, I reached forward and tried to punch him in the face. Like lightning, he grabbed my hand and pulled it back down to the bed, twisting it, then lay on top of me, roughly.

"GODDAMMIT! Listen to me, Wil!" he said, loudly. "I've already heard all your fucking arguments! Trust me, you won't win an argument about logic with me, man! I'm gonna be a fucking philosophy major! There's no way you're the one to blame for what happened. True, you're one of the proximate causes, but you're not the only one. You're not even the main reason, not by a long shot!"

Tears ran down my face, not just from the physical pain of my hand, but the reality that I knew Pete was wrong. He had to be.

He leaned down and kissed the tears from my face, then let go of my hand. He sighed and looked at me, sadly. Suddenly, he jumped up and paced back and forth by the bed.

"Alright," he said. "You wanna get into this now? Fine. Let's go down this logically. You say it's your fault that Sky got the car in the first place, right? Because you helped him get better grades?"

I nodded.

"BULLSHIT!" he yelled, making me jump. "Sky got better grades because he worked for it. If it wasn't you, it could've been anybody else helping him. Or even Sky by himself."

I nodded, meekly. I guess that was possible.

"And do you know why Sky got the car?" he asked. "Because he was a fuckin' spoiled rich kid, whose parents gave him everything he ever wanted."

"Don't say that about Sky," I said, quietly.

"I'm sorry, Wil," he said, sitting on the bed. "But it's true. I know everybody liked Sky, but you have to see -- it's partly his parents' fault for buying a stupid fucking immature 16 year-old kid a hot car like that! And it's Sky's fault for wanting it in the first place!"

I closed my eyes.

"LISTEN to me, Wil!" he yelled again.

I opened my eyes and stared at him. "But Melissa would've never seen us at the dock if it wasn't for me," I muttered.

"BULLSHIT AGAIN!" he yelled. "Sky wouldn't have been there at all if he hadn't fought with her in the first place! And Melissa's partly to blame, because SHE was stupid enough to threaten you two on the dock!"

"I should've ridden with him in the car," I said. "He might not have had the wreck if I'd gone."

"YOU ARE SO TOTALLY FULL OF SHIT!" he yelled, so loudly it made me wince. "That stalled truck would've still been on the same bridge, and he still would've had a wreck, only this time you would've died, too. All for nothing."

I looked up at him. "But what if..."

"Goddammit, you are IMPOSSIBLE, Wil!" he said, angrily pacing back and forth. "Okay, 'what if.' Let's say by some miracle you did go with them and made it to the hospital alive, or you stayed at the pier and called an ambulance. You've still got a dead girl in the car. The cops show up, they arrest Sky, convict him of murder, and he goes to the electric chair. Meanwhile, you go to prison for five-to-ten as an accessory, and you get butt-fucked by every guy in jail, ten times a day. Sky's still dead, Melissa's still dead, and your life is ruined. Add it up, Wil."

I shook my head. "You try to make it sound logical, but it's not," I said. "Life isn't that logical."

He leaned forward and kissed me again, and ran his fingers through my hair. He kissed both my eyes, which were brimming with tears again.

"No," he said, softly, holding my face in his hands. "Life isn't always logical, Wil. Neither is love. But I want you to know something: Sky died mainly because of Sky. Not you, not me, not because of the cosmos. Just because of himself." He let me go and leaned back.

I opened my eyes and stared at him. Pete reached out and put his right hand on my shoulder and gave me a squeeze.

He took a deep breath. "The main reason Sky died was because he was an asshole, and because he was driving at 116 miles an hour on a two-lane bridge at midnight."

I shut my eyes, imagining how the wreck looked, how it would sound. I could see the glass break, the metal crunch, the bodies going through the windshield, and the back of the truck exploding in a ball of fire, all in slow motion. I could smell the gasoline fumes, the stench of burning rubber, and the faint scent of the ocean below.

"He wasn't an asshole," I said, quietly, my eyes still closed. Sky was wonderful. Then again, he could be totally incorrigible sometimes.

"Listen to me, Wil," he said. "If Sky hadn't crashed that car then, it would've been the next day, or the day after that, or a week later, or a month later. Any way you look at it, it was gonna happen."

I let out a long breath. Finally, I nodded and lay back on the bed. I felt exhausted.

"And you know what?" he said, laying beside me and gently kissing me. "I'm grateful to God or fate or Buddha or whatever the fuck you want to call it that your karma was so good, you weren't there. That's why you lived, Wil. It wasn't your time, man."

He rolled over on his back. I turned and put my arm across his smooth chest, then buried my head in the crook of his arm.

We lay there together for a long time. My tears eventually stopped, and I relaxed. After awhile, Pete sat up and slowly took off my clothes, then pulled off his own shorts.

"I seem to recall when we were last here, I had to hurry," he said, smiling. "Now, we're gonna take our time."

It was nearly an hour before he would allow me to climax. For the last five minutes, all I could do was whimper. When Pete finally let me finish, I yelled out so loudly, I was certain the neighbors at the motel next door would call the police. But they didn't.

Pete sat up, dazed. "My GOD," he said, laughing and wiping off his mouth. "Wil, I think that was, what, about a gallon of cum?"

"I'm sorry, man," I said, catching my breath and grinning. "It's been awhile."

He pulled me close to him and we slept for hours, while a cool ocean breeze fluttered the blinds on he window.
 
   
 

© 2001, John Francis