Period 8 - By Chris Crutcher Page 0,27
gave me a big enough grubstake that they at least have to treat me like one.”
“Never hurts to have a little leverage, I guess.”
Arney nods. “So,” he says. “Wanna see a movie tonight?”
Hannah hesitates, then, “Sure, why not?”
“You cool with it? Paulie and all?”
“I said yes. That means I’m cool with it. Don’t keep asking me that, Arney. If we want to see a movie, we see a movie.”
“How ’bout I pick you up about seven thirty?”
“Great.” It doesn’t really feel great, but every time she thinks about Paulie, of what he did, a fire smolders deep inside.
Two hours later Arney sits across the table from Mary Wells at Marv’s, a small pizza joint on the outskirts of town. “You sure everything’s okay? I was worried about you.”
“I’m sure,” she says. “Things just got crazy.”
“I was worried you were going to blow it all,” Arney says, reaching across the table and grabbing her wrist. “You know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown back up, like with your future and all?”
“It’s all I hear, Arney.”
“It put your parents in a real spot.” He runs his hand lightly across the top of hers, still holding her wrist with the other.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Mary says. “I am. I’m getting it back together. Things are fine with Dad.” She tries to pull her hand away. Arney holds it gently but firmly, runs the back of his finger down the side of her cheek. “Okay,” he says. “I was worried, that’s all. You have so much to lose.”
Logs and Paulie hoist themselves onto the dock at the end of a three-mile swim, both gasping for air.
“Man,” Paulie says, “you gotta quit trying to shame me in those last five hundred yards. You know I’m not going to let you win.”
“I win every time I pull myself out of the water,” Logs says. “Before long I won’t even be able to challenge you. I gotta feel dangerous as long as I can.”
“You’ll die dangerous,” Paulie says. He looks past the other end of the dock at a luxury car parked next to his Beetle. He elbows Logs. “Who’s that?”
Logs squints to focus, shakes his head. “Sucks getting old,” he says. “I gotta get closer.”
Mary Wells leans out the driver’s side window as they approach her father’s Lexus. “Hey.”
Logs stops. “Mary Wells.”
“Mary Wells,” Paulie says right behind him.
She looks down sheepishly, recovers. “I thought I’d find you here, Mr. Logsdon. I just wanted to apologize for missing Period 8 the last few days.”
“No apology necessary. It’s completely voluntary.”
“I know, but I’ve been there every day since the middle of my freshman year; I thought I owed you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe it, but I’d love to hear one. You’ve kind of singlehandedly turned the school on its head this past week.”
“I know. I have a lot of apologizing to do. And a bunch of work to make up. I just wanted you to know I’m okay.”
He looks at the car. “I take it you’ve seen your dad.”
Mary nods.
“Good,” Logs says. “I was starting to worry about your scholarship.”
“Me, too.” She raises her eyebrows. “Could I talk with you for a minute, Paulie?”
Paulie studies her.
“That’s my clue,” Logs says. “Got to get home to my cat. He gets all surly when I’m late.”
Paulie turns for his car.
“Please,” Mary says.
Paulie stops. What the hell. “I gotta get my sweats.”
“I’ll wait.”
Paulie sits in the passenger seat of the Beetle after removing the wetsuit, a towel covering his legs and butt while he struggles out of his swimsuit and pulls on a pair of sweat pants. I should drive the fuck out of here. But seconds later he’s standing next to the Lexus.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
Paulie gazes at her without expression. He didn’t realize how angry he was until he saw her sitting there. When she was maybe dead and then missing he felt the same compassion and confusion everyone else felt, but she’s here and all put together again, and he aches for what he lost.
“I know you and Hannah split,” she says. “It was my fault.”
Paulie looks over the glossy black roof at the reservoir. He can’t trust himself to talk.
“I’ll make it up to you, Paulie. I will.”
“How are you going to do that? How are you going to do that, Mary? Jesus, what were you doing? I couldn’t get away from you.”
“I know,” she says. “I was . . .” Tears stream down her cheeks. “I just don’t want you to hate me. I couldn’t