Page 85 of Them Bones

John blinked. “Like… the girls? The shop girls?”

“Yeah,” Nick said. “The ones who hang around. They’re in and out enough, they’d know what’s what. Has anyone talked to Sarita? Or Cary’s… harem?”

John bit his lip. It was well known that the girls hung around hoping for a piece of Cary and a free taste, but most of them would settle for any of the guys that were willing. Some came and went, but there were a few regulars that had beenfloating around on laps long enough that it might not be a stretch to imagine them being invited into the back rooms. Still, the only one with a true all-access pass was Sarita, and it would be hard not to notice the mega supermodel sneaking around.

“I haven’t talked to any of the girls, no…” John said.

“Well, there you go,” Nick said dismissively.

John was annoyed. Nick had always been a bit of curmudgeon, but since Cary got back he’d been straight up surly, and John was inno mood.

“I’m not stupid enough to question Cary’s girlfriend,” John said slowly. “If there’s one thing that will guarantee you a coffin with a view, it’s fucking with Sarita. Or worse, his sister.”

“Doesn’t seem he gives much of a shit about either of them, you ask me,” Nick said.

“I didn’t ask. And if I were you,I wouldn’t keep testing that theory.”

Nick paused, his eyes flashing, like he was considering either ignoring John or denying it, but instead he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anymore, anyway,” he said. “Laney won’t take my calls.”

The guy was putting on a brave face. His voice was carefully nonchalant, his features smooth and bland. But John could feel it, in him. The anger.

Nick hadn’t just been beaten up. Nick had beendumped.And apart from the obvious damage to the ego that a dumping always does, he seemed to actually be taking it… hard.

It was the last thing John needed, to be worrying about Nick running off half-cocked into the night, throwing pebbles at Laney’s window and getting a face full of Cary – or Shane, for that matter – instead. Nick was their best packer, and Cary was looking to John to make sense of all of this, keep things going…

“I’ll talk to the girls,” John said reluctantly. “But I’m not talking to Sarita. Cary can do that, if he wants.”

“Cary always seems to do what he wants,” Nick said.

“Trust me, it’s best you just stay out of the way and let him. There’s nothing – and I mean this, Nick –nothingthat is worth Cary’s wrath.”

Nick looked like he wanted to argue but seemed to think better of it.

MRS BENOWITZ

Miriam had been warned about the Hawton boy.

All his teachers said the same thing; he was a strange, unusually quiet child, who kept to himself and seemed to prefer to be ignored.

He was an awkward-looking kid, pale and thin, and never seemed to make eye contact with anyone. She had followed the suggestions of her peers and didn't ask him to speak in class, never asked him to stay after to discuss his homework, never interacted with him at all, really. And Miriam would have been quite happy to continue doing so, if not for his growth spurt.

It came out of nowhere, shortly before Christmas. One day he was the scrawny, pale boy in the corner. The next, he was six inches taller than everyone else and filling in as if he’d been working out. His skin started to glow, like he was outside a lot despite the cold.

The other students, who up until then had ignored his existence, eyed him like he was the new kid, something shiny and interesting.

Miriam worried. She wasn’t exactly sure why (Dustin had never been anything but polite bordering on meek) but she hada feeling the boy wouldn’t hesitate to sock someone. And she had a feeling it was coming.

The kids were restless. They were mid-way through December, and the teachers were counting down the days until Christmas break, herself included. She had several large boxes of wine and an entire season’s worth of professional figure skating competitions that she’d taped stacked by the VCR and ready to go for her vacation. She’d rewatched Michelle Kwan’s Olympic performance at least three times, that year.

If there were going to be fights, they tended to happen right before the Christmas or summer break. And her gut said it would have something to do with Dustin. So she kept him after class.

“I was hoping you and I could have a little chat,” Miriam said.

“Okay, Mrs. Benowitz…”

Dustin waited, staring at the desk, fingers picking at a loose thread in his sweatshirt.

“How are you finding school, this year?” she asked, not sure where to start. He shrugged, and she tried to rack her brain for anything personal she could discuss with the boy. “Are you enjoying your art classes?” she asked, remembering that he doodled in the corners of the pages on his tests.

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