The Saint. Kathleen O'Brien
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what?” Cullen stood, and his big, beefy body blocked the sun. “You’re not writing any more papers? Hey, man, that’s not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m just saying I think it’s time to stop. I mean, it’s cheating, and sooner or later we’re going to get caught, and—”
Cullen bent over, putting his face so close to Eddie’s the threat was unmistakable. “Listen, Mackey. If you want to suddenly get religious about all this, you do it after summer term is over, understand? Sure it’s cheating, but you’re in it up to your big red ears already, and you’re not pulling out until I’ve passed English.”
Eddie stood up, too. He didn’t like being threatened. He wasn’t as big as Cullen, but he worked out, and besides, he was smarter. He liked his chances against the big oaf any day. “Watch your tone, Cullen, because I don’t take orders from—”
But maybe Cullen wasn’t as dense as Eddie thought. His face changed suddenly, as if he’d realized there might be a better way to handle this.
He lifted his big hands and rested them on Eddie’s shoulders. His fake smile was somehow more unsettling than his scowl had been.
“Hey, sorry, man,” he said in a hearty tone. “I didn’t mean to come on too strong. It’s just that I like you. And I know Binky does, too. I mean, we’d all hate it if you weren’t part of the group, you know? We’d miss you, man.”
Eddie opened his mouth. But nothing came out. This wasn’t an empty threat. Cullen Overton had more social power in his meaty little finger than Eddie Mackey had in his whole body. If Cullen decided Eddie was Out, then he was so Out he might as well live on Mars. And Binky Potter would be draping herself over some other guy by the end of next week.
Cullen’s small green eyes were bright with triumph. He patted Eddie’s shoulder a little too hard. “So it’s a deal. Tell you what. I’ll pay double, you know, because it’s summer. And you’ll write me a seriously C-type Tennyson paper. Thanks, man.”
He began to walk away. But then he turned around with one last, fake smile so big his white teeth glinted in the sun. “Oh, and Jeff said he might need one, too. I’ll tell him to get with you soon, so you have plenty of time, okay?”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
Eddie sat back down on Mr. Metzler’s front seat. He was tired suddenly. The party hadn’t wound down last night until about two in the morning, and they’d had to be out here by seven. He still had three lawns to mow this afternoon. Maybe being booted into social outer space wouldn’t be so bad, really. At least then he could get some sleep.
But Binky… He heard her laughing with her friends. She had a sweet laugh, throaty and mellow, not shrill and sarcastic like the other girls. She might be a little greedy about jewelry, but he believed there was something special about her. Something worth fighting for.
Fighting for, maybe. But was she worth cheating for?
He wiped his hand over his eyes, and when he opened them again he saw that Coach McClintock was walking over to him. Oh, great. Eddie was sure he was going to get a lecture for taking so long with the Caddy, but to his surprise Coach just leaned one hip against the front fender and seemed to be admiring the sparkling windows.
“Nice job,” Coach said casually.
“Thanks.” Eddie hoped his voice didn’t sound as pooped as he felt. He didn’t want to sound indifferent. He cared what Coach thought of him. A lot.
“I hope the girls appreciate how hard you guys are working to buy them new uniforms,” Coach said. “Think they’ll come out and wash cars when the football team needs new helmets?”
Eddie cast another look toward Binky and her friends. One of the girls was trying to make some complicated braid thing out of Binky’s long blond hair, and the others watched breathlessly, as if it were brain surgery.
“Yeah, right,” he said. He looked at Coach, and the two of them smiled in perfect harmony on the subject of girls. Well, at least these girls. They were definitely not the future astronauts and Nobel Prize winners of the world. They were born to be pretty and pampered—and pointless. Like really expensive, slightly dangerous pets.
He suddenly wondered why he was killing himself trying to raise money to buy one of his own. He couldn’t really imagine wanting a pet for a wife.
But damn it, he was seventeen. He didn’t want any kind of wife. He wanted to get laid, just like everybody else.
“So how are things, Eddie? Everything going okay?”
Eddie looked up at Coach. His tone was weird. Did he sense something? Did he know something? Had he overheard what Cullen had said?
“Things seem fine.” Eddie chose his words with care. “We’re getting a lot of cars.”
Coach gazed at him with a quiet, oddly gentle expression. “I don’t mean the car wash. I mean you. You seem a little down. Everything okay?”
God, if he only knew! Nothing was okay.
For one insane minute, Eddie thought he was going to blurt out the whole sleazy truth. Thought he might say that he was selling his soul for a chance to get into Binky Potter’s pants. That he had finally found a way to run with the big boys, and it was damn near killing him. That he was tired and trapped and sick of the whole thing.
But how could Coach help? Coach had been born one of the big boys. He practically owned Heyday, as his father had before him. He had no idea what it felt like to be on the outside, straining to get in.
Besides, he was so damn straitlaced. Everyone around here called him the Saint. He’d never allow the paper-selling thing to go on—and he’d never let Eddie get away unpunished.
“Eddie?”
Eddie hesitated, still unsure. Yes, telling Coach would be suicide, but at least it would be over. The temptation was almost irresistible. It would be a relief if someone like Coach could just force him to stop, since he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself.
But in the end he didn’t have the courage. He didn’t have the nerve to see Coach’s face when he realized Eddie was a scumball. He didn’t want Coach to withdraw his offer to bring Eddie onto the team.
And he definitely didn’t have the guts to give up the hope that someday Binky Potter would say yes. Maybe even tonight. They had a movie date at eight, and if he didn’t get started mowing those lawns soon he’d be late. When they went to the movies, she liked to tease him, sucking slick popcorn butter from his fingers one by one till he nearly died.
No way could he give that up.
“Eddie?” Coach’s voice was tighter now. Really concerned. “You can tell me. What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? What could be wrong?” Eddie stood up again and tossed Coach a smile as fake as anything Cullen Overton had ever produced. “Life’s sweet, man. Sweet.”
KIERAN WAS DOG TIRED, and he would have given anything he owned to be able to take a long hot shower, order a sloppy pizza, open a freezing cold beer and spend the evening in front of the TV.
Instead, he had to dress up in a penguin suit and go next door to Aurora York’s house, where he would spend three hours pretending he gave a damn who was elected Heyday’s next parade Ringmaster and Ringmistress. Even worse, he might well be nominated himself, which would mean he’d have to pretend to be delighted.
Frankly, he wasn’t sure he had “delighted” left in his bag of tricks tonight. It had been a very long day.
He did take the shower. That wasn’t optional, not after standing in the sun all morning helping teenagers wash cars. And he got the beer, too. That wasn’t optional, either, not after having spent the entire afternoon listening to the Heyday Historical Society bitch about Larry Millegrew, a newly arrived artist who had dared to paint his house orange.
Kieran