Page 24 of What Boys Learn

“Anything else?”

She reached for a roll of LifeSavers and accidentally bumped several candy bars to the floor.

Man behind her. “You’re a little young to be out drinking, aren’t you?”

She ignored him.

The cashier took her money. She bent down to pick up the fallen candy and felt a hand on her ass. She spun around, ready to slap or swear, but it was him—not a stranger.

“You were taking a long time,” he said. “Thought I’d check on you.”

She let him guide her by the elbow. Open the door. “After you.”

He wasn’t as drunk as she was. Hopefully. Since he was the one driving.

Back in the car, a drawl from the front passenger seat. “About time.”

She tossed a bag of chips forward. “Hey, I paid with my own money. Say thank you, maybe?”

“Thank you,” came two voices, followed by laughter as they pulled away from the pumps.

And now she was happy again. They were the three musketeers. Now she could think back to the moment in the gas station, when she felt a hand touching the lower corner of her jeans pocket, a playful pinch, and instead of being angry she could watch the scene like a movie in her head and imagine what he was thinking when he did that, how he’d come into the store so they could have a moment away, just him and her, two instead of the three. Would they find a way to be alone? Would he take her hand and lead her into the trees? She had to get her head straight or she’d spoil it.

“Nice car, isn’t it?” came the voice from the front passenger seat.

“I guess.”

Truth was, she could smell gasoline from the back seat and the ride was bouncy, like there was something wrong with the shocks.

Didn’t matter. In minutes, they’d be at the forest preserve, seeing the flick of lighters and flash of eyes in the parking lot hidden by woods, out in the warm summer air where she could breathe away the nausea stirring in her gut.

A yellow light turning to red. The last one, before they would turn down a smaller county road.

The half-moon, visible from the side window. Green light and they accelerated fast into the darkness.

“Your reward.”

Another beer, not as cold as the first ones, being handed back, already opened. She didn’t want it. If it hadn’t been opened, she would have just set it down at her feet.

When they got to the forest preserve, she had to pee, that was the first thing. Not vomit. Just pee. Though everything was starting to spin as soon as she stepped out of the back seat, stumbling several feet across the parking lot until she felt his firm grip on her elbow.

“Whoa, hold on,” he said. “Careful.”

The sharp pinch hurt, but she needed it, too, like a slap that would shake all these bees out of her head.

“That’s right,” he said. No slur in his voice, no boyish nervousness. He sounded nothing like the guys at school and nothing like her father. She didn’t know how to judge ages. “Come over here. That’s right, honey. Just stand here. Get your bearings.”

She leaned against the closed car door, listening to the engine tick. It was hot. So hot. The door, the air, everything: a humid Illinois night that felt like a stifling blanket, covering her face.

“Try this.”

She took a swig. It burned her throat.

“You like it?”

“No.” She coughed.

That mud smell, rising off the river, which was really more of a creek, brown water running between big oak trees. Laughter at the far end of the parking lot, where maybe a dozen people were already gathered by their parked cars. She could hear the pop of cans. Smell smoke—pot, regular cigarettes. Music coming from somewhere, but not loud. Glints of light that may have been lighters, may have been fireflies. A light haze over their heads, obscuring most of the stars.