Page 4 of Something Like Summer
Hoping that his luck wouldchange, Ben passed once again through Tim’s neighborhood on his wayhome. Thanks to a squirrel with a death wish, Wilford was strainingagainst his leash so hard that Ben didn’t even notice the commotionuntil a voice yelled out with enthusiasm.
“Oh wow! I can’t fuckingbelieve it! Oh, sorry mom. It’s just so fu- freaking awesome! Thankyou!”
Ben gave one last desperatetug on the leash and looked up. Tim was in his driveway jumping upand down around a gleaming, black sports car. A scattering ofpeople watched him, amusement on their faces. Ben took in theballoons taped to the garage doors just as someone said, “Happybirthday.” Wilford chose this moment to circle a piece of grassbefore squatting, bless him, allowing Ben to stand there and gawkopenly.
“Thank you so much!” Timbeamed across the car at a man who was the right age and build tobe his father before opening the door and diving inside. A secondlater and the engine exploded into life with a roar. It revved afew times before the passenger window rolled down. “Wanna go for aride?”
Ben almost said ‘yes’ outloud. There was muttering from the family as they debated who wouldgo or the importance of driving safely. Ben couldn’t hear any ofthis and had run out of time anyway. Wilford was already dragginghim away down the street.
He should have felt happy.He had finally managed to see his dream guy again, but somethingfelt wrong in the pit of his stomach. Ben considered the feelingand realized that it felt akin to having lost a game. The sportscar sped by, much too quickly for a final glance, before it torearound the corner. To get a car like that for your birthday! Hisparents must have been rolling in it. The unease in Ben’s stomachincreased.
That was it. Someone likeTim had looks, a perfect body, and a rich family. He was probably ajock and would instantly be popular, despite being new to the area.The chances of Tim even noticing a scrawny outsider like Ben werezero to none. The fantasy had been fun, but Ben abruptly felt asthough reality had burst in and crashed the party.
* * * * *
The first day of school wasnot going as planned. Allison’s car had broken down the same daythat he had witnessed Tim getting the ultimate birthday gift. Bensurmised that there was some cosmic harmony in this. One vehiclehad left the world as another was born into existence. Did carsreincarnate? He doubted it. He was being dramatic anyway. Allison’scar wasn’t dead. It just needed a new radiator line. Or was it asparkplug filter? Ben didn’t have the slightest idea what was wrongwith it. He just knew that the car being out of service meant hehad to share the bus with a bunch of nervous freshman and immaturesophomores. He didn’t even have the comfort of Allison’s company,since her father had insisted on driving her to school.
Ben felt as though he couldeasily be mistaken for a freshman as he disembarked from the bus.He was slender and short for his age. Five feet nine inches wasn’tbad really, but it was becoming apparent that he wouldn’t begrowing any taller. Alone and distracted, he probably appeared tobe arriving at high school for the first time in his life. Adisoriented freshman confirmed this, sidling up to him and asking,“How do they expect us to find any of these classes? What’s 3E2mean anyway?”
Ben only shrugged andlooked down at his own schedule, even though he knew that the ‘3’referred to the floor, the ‘E’ to the east wing of the building,and the final digit indicated the room number. His own first itemwas 1W0. He didn’t need to read the class description to recognizewhat that was–P.E., or physical embarrassment as he preferred tocall it. He swore under his breath and started toward the gymnasiumwhere he would be miserable for an hour every morning for the restof the semester.
Ben searched for any signof a familiar face as he pushed through the crowded hallways, butthe fates were against him today. He saw many people he recognized,but most of them were the jocks and snobs he despised. The bellrang as he stepped into gym, the hallways still full of baffled newkids. Ben took solace in this. The coach would have to wait untilall of them found their way to the gym, the rest of the periodhopefully being taken up with issuing uniforms and othertrivialities.
He eyed the bleachers withapprehension as he neared them and almost laughed with relief whenhe saw Leon’s tall, stooped form sitting in the highest row, idlytoying with one of his dreads. Ben made a beeline for the oneperson who had made last year’s P.E. classes bearable. He made itto the top row of benches unscathed—even though some idiot tried totrip him along the way—and sat down next to Leon, enjoying thearomatic scent of marijuana that surrounded him likecologne.
“Hey, what’s up, big guy?”Leon croaked in his all-too-typical stoner’s voice.
“Nothing much. I can’tbelieve we have to do this first thing in the morning. It’s childabuse.”
“At least it’s the lastyear. There’s no P.E. for seniors.”
“Lucky bastards,” Benmuttered. “Hey, maybe the coaches will be too tired to bothermaking us exercise.”
Leon would probably stillbe too stoned to exercise, Ben realized. That meant Leon would berelaxing on the sidelines instead of participating in whateveridiotic sport was the choice of the week. There were a few timeslast year when Leon’s stash had run dry, leaving him sober andtransforming him into an active and capable athlete. Ben hatedthese times, because it meant he was left alone and defenseless,when he usually would have been hiding behind Leon’s magical aurathat allowed him to get away with anything. Ben wasn’t sure what itwas exactly, but the coaches seemed to genuinely like Leon, despitehim being a modern day version of the people who protested againstthe Vietnam War.
Ben let out a sigh as oneof these former servicemen came marching into the gymnasium, ahandful of nervous-looking freshman trailing along behind likeducklings. There were four different coaches who taught P.E., butthe only way to tell them apart was their hair. They were allstocky with limbs as thick as tree trunks. They might have been hotback in their youth, but a war and way too many beers had gracedthem all with tired faces and prominent guts.
This coach, the one withthinning red hair, took attendance by bellowing out each of theirlast names. Leon talked all through this, eagerly describing to Benhis uncle’s collection of Laserdiscs that he had access to allsummer. Film was Leon’s topic of choice. If you knew your movies,you were his friend.
“Bendly?” coachrepeated.
Ben sighed, knowing that ifhe corrected the man it would only make him a future target.“Here,” he droned.
“I see Steyer managed tograduate from summer school,” the coach bantered, sending a pugdog’s smile Leon’s way.
“Hey, Coach!” Leonanswered happily. “They wanted to send me back to junior high but Itold them I’d miss you too much.”
Coach smiled and continuedthe roll call. How did Leon do it? If Ben had tried that line hewould have been called a queer and told to go run a fewlaps.
The rest of the periodcrawled by. Forms for the gym clothes were passed out for them tofill in and bring back the next day. To Ben’s despair, the mintgreen uniforms that always smelled of body odor no matter how manytimes they were laundered were passed out too, but thankfully therewasn’t enough time for them to get changed and play anything.Instead he spent the period listening to Leon talk about the StarWars movies that he took so seriously. When stoned, he treated theevents of the movies as if they were happening in the present alongwith the rest of the world’s events.
“Yodahasto know that Luke isn’t going tobe able to best Vader. He’s totally just playing the emotional cardand hoping to make Vader break down and cry or something,right?”
Ben didn’t have time torespond before the bell rang. He practically dived off thebleachers in a single leap in his eagerness to reach the hallwaysand look for Allison. Or Tim. Another new period meant anotherchance for them to be in the same class. Neither of his targetswere spotted in the hallway, nor were they in his English class.The next period was his first elective, Spanish, which also failedto contain either of the people he was looking for. There was atleast an amusing conflict between the teacher and a kid from Mexicowho was looking to earn an easy A.
Lunch period brought reliefin the form of Allison. He found her at their usual meeting spot,next to the vending machines in the large cafeteria that linkedboth wings of the school. They had their choice of seats since theyboth brought their lunches, while most of the other kids werelining up to buy hot food. As much as Ben was tired of white breadsandwiches, they were better than any of the food choices that theschool offered. There were legends of neighboring school districtsthat allowed the fast food giants to cater for their students, butthis district wasn’t one of them. This “healthier” food was soggyand flavorless. Even the soft drink machines were filled only withsugar-free lemonade and some sort of chocolate drinks that didn’tcontain one grain of cocoa powder.
“Ronnie Adams!” Allisonsang out as they sat down at their table.
