Period 8 Read online

  “It’s too late to make a long story short, but give it a try, ’cause you are killing me.”

  “I’m driving toward her house and she says, ‘Could we just drive around for a while?’ and I say huh-uh because ‘I’m promised.’”

  “You said you were promised?”

  “When in doubt, go with comedy,” Paulie says. “So she says, ‘I just don’t want to go home yet. My dad . . .’ and she lets it trail off, and I’m pissed at my dad half the time—and really mad at him the other half—so I said maybe we could drive around a little, but not too long. This felt bad, and I wasn’t even doing anything.”

  “Yet,” Logs says.

  “So we drove out past Diamond Lake and then along High Drive and through a couple of neighborhoods and I said I had to take her home. We got within a few hundred yards of that long-ass driveway that goes up to her mansion and she told me to stop. I’m goin’ no way but she showed me her watch and said I did not want to be the guy caught driving up her driveway this close to midnight. I thought, most rumors are rumors for a reason and maybe the one about her dad being a teenage boy killer is one of them. So I stopped.”

  Logs closes his eyes.

  “I told her I’d wait until she got at least to the driveway. She wanted a few minutes to ‘collect’ herself, like she was really worried about her old man. Then she started asking me stuff like why I thought she couldn’t get a steady boyfriend. She was calm, like she really wanted to know, so I said the dumb-ass thing: I said well, she didn’t always look quite as hot as she looked right then, and she asked if I thought she was pretty, and I said sure, everyone thought she was pretty. She asked if I thought she was hot, and I was trying to think of a way to say she was without saying she was hot to me. But I gotta tell you Logs, my mind was wandering to a bad place.”

  “At this point your mentor would rather hear generalizations,” Logs says.

  Paulie snorts. “Before I could say anything she put her arms around my neck and asked if I wanted . . . if I wanted . . .”

  “To have sex?”

  “Yeah, but she said the word.”

  This is so far out of Logs’s experience of Mary Wells he can barely believe it, even coming from Paulie.

  “I don’t know if you know what that does . . .”

  “I know what it does,” Logs says.

  “Believe it or not, I was still thinking of Hannah,” Paulie says. “I pushed Mary away, but she was like, desperate. It was like some kind of test of life or death or something. This probably sounds like a guy making excuses for doing something spectacularly dumb, but it’s the truth. I pushed her away and she started crying, sobbing almost. This is crazy but did you ever have sex with someone because you felt sorry for them? That’s not human, is it? I mean, I can’t say I didn’t get cranked up; that’s not human either, but then she was rubbing me and her shirt was off and she was like an animal. When it was over I just wanted her out of my car, because sanity comes rushing back with . . . well, you know what I’m saying. But she wouldn’t get out. She wanted to know if she was good.”

  Logs simply shakes his head.

  “She straightened herself up and asked again if she was good, I mean, like a little kid wanting to know if she tied her shoes right. I said yeah just to get her out of there, then I watched her walk down the road and turn into her driveway, and sat there another five minutes wanting to beat my head against the dashboard ’til I went unconscious.”

  “That would have been the smartest thing you did all night.”

  “By the time I’d driven two miles, I knew I’d have to tell Hannah. I read Shakespeare; I know about tangled webs. So I did, the very next day, and that was that. So when all of a sudden Mary was missing and then she wasn’t, and the more we heard the stranger it got, I started thinking something’s way out of whack here. I did what I did and it’s my fault, but Mary was a whole different girl than the one everyone calls Jesus’s mom. I paid attention in psych. That kind of behavior means secrets.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Messed-up room that nobody saw, two-day lag in reporting . . .”

  “What I said in P-8 today goes double for your brain, Paulie,” Logs says. “You know what they say about assuming.”

  “That it makes an ass out of ‘u’ and me?”

  “No, that it makes whoever does it an asshole. So sit tight. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—most of the time when we don’t understand it’s because we don’t know enough. We need to know more.”

  Only minutes before midnight, Logs unlocks the double doors to the pool at the university and lets himself in, grateful that Coach Graves entrusted him with a key years ago. “If you drown in there,” the coach had said with a smile, “I’ll tell them you lifted the keys from my jacket.”

  Logs doesn’t turn on the overhead lights, knowing the glow from the exit signs and the maintenance room will cast enough light to see the end lines and the wall. He and Paulie are connected by water; both go there for solace and both go there to think. He stands on the starting block, breathes deep, and shoots out over the middle lane.

  Paulie’s right. Something is off. He settles into a pace he could hold all night. Even at this age, Bruce Logsdon swims like most people walk. He could almost do this in the dark. He knows in his gut the number of strokes from one end to the other at any level of fatigue. The water is like a womb. It is safe.

  As he flips in and out of his turns, he considers what he heard in Period 8 today. He’s always known there were stories, but hasn’t always known which ones belong to which student. He’s always surprised to see where rugged stuff lands.

  I wouldn’t even know your name. Arney’s words to Bobby Wright. Absent the mindless shot Arney took at Bobby’s poverty, they could have been Logs’s words, or almost any other kid’s in the room. So many times the greatest pain slides in under the radar. He doesn’t judge himself by what he’s missed, but he’s aware it’s a lot. Probably this Mary Wells thing will blow over; a feasible explanation will reveal itself and time will pass. P-8 has yielded some unexpected intimacies over the years, but there was a feeling in that room today. For a brief moment, mortality raised its head among these kids, and it mined stories from a deeper lode.

  While Logs cranks out laps over at the university pool, Paulie swamps out The Rocket restrooms, watching the wide-angle mirror for late-night university students pulling all-nighters or the occasional homeless person stepping in to get out of the cold, and feeling the fatigue brought on by a day that started with an early morning swim and is ending with a late-night shift. He is blessed with the part of his father’s DNA he welcomes—the ability to operate at pretty much full capacity on five hours’ sleep—but the stress of this day is taking its toll. He rolls the mop bucket and cleaning tools toward the back room, preparing to close out the till and lock up for the night, when the bell over the door jingles.

  “Paulie Bomb.”

  “Hey, Arney, what’s goin’ on?”

  “Had a business meeting with some guys. I’m just headed home.”

  “A business meeting. What kind of business meeting happens at midnight? And what high school kid has a business meeting any time? Man, Stack, you are a different kind of dude.”

  “Ah, my old man wants me to learn about investing. Gave me some capital and the guys I’m working with had to meet late. Couldn’t fit my school schedule into their business day.”

  “Must have been some capital,” Paulie says.

  “If everything works out,” Arney says, “they’ll get a good return. Me, too.”

  “I’m closing up,” Paulie says. “Got coffee in the thermoses, but nothing fresh.”

  “No coffee,” Arney says back. “I thought you’d probably be here. Wanted to ask you something.”

  Paulie stacks the bills in the lock box and opens the overnight safe. “Have to be real quick,” he says. “I’m beat.”

  “What would you think if I started hanging out with Hannah?�
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  The bottom drops out of Paulie’s gut. He doesn’t answer.

  Arney says, “You guys are done, right?”

  “Hannah is.”

  “I know it’d feel kind of funny, but we almost had something going when we were sophomores, back before you guys were—”

  “It wouldn’t feel funny, Arney,” Paulie says. His eyes go cold. “It would feel shitty.” He picks up a thermos and walks it to the sink, removing the lid and dumping the last of the coffee. “But if you want to go out with Hannah and Hannah wants to go out with you, there’s nothing I can do about it.” He puts the thermos in the sink, runs hot water into it. “There’s nothing I should do about it.”

  “I just don’t want—”

  “Do whatever,” Paulie says. “I made this bed and I’m sleeping in it whether I like it or not.”

  “I couldn’t let it to get in the way of our friendship.”

  “Look, Arney, I’m not gonna be a dick and get in the way if it’s something real. If I did, that would affect our friendship.” Paulie’s doubting the friendship as he says it. “This is just a little quick, is all. Feels like revenge.”

  Arney purses his lips.

  “Not by you. Hannah.”

  “Look man, if you’d rather—”

  Paulie throws up his hands, palms out. “Naw, man, do it. If I’m going to purge this shit, I best purge it all at once.”

  “Okay, but only if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure!” He watches Arney walk toward the door, and slams the safe shut.

  “Want me to kick his ass for you?” Justin leans against Paulie’s Beetle the next day, moments after last bell, watching the building empty.

  Paulie laughs. “I could do that myself.”

  “But there’s a certain pleasure to hiring it done,” Justin says. “Man, that is cold. There’s got to be a code.” Justin is not a big guy; five-nine, a hundred-fifty pounds, with five percent body fat and the strength of guys half again his size. He’d give Arney a run.

  “He just asked if it was okay. You know Arney, always testing shit. If Hannah’s interested, well, that tells me something about Hannah.” He reaches for the door handle. “Suck-it-up time for me either way. If it’s not Stack, it’ll be someone else eventually. I can’t shut down the head movies no matter who it is. Hannah’s pissed and she’s pretty good at ‘letting you know how it feels.’ Got a feeling I’ll be logging some miles. On the court and on the sea.”

  “I thought you guys were friends,” Hannah says, sitting in Arney’s Audi in the Taco Time parking lot, her back against the passenger-side door.

  “We are friends,” Arney says. “But I don’t have a lot of respect for what he did. I hate that stuff. Besides, Paulie’s okay with it. He said you guys are history.”

  “That was easy,” Hannah says.

  “I thought the same thing. But he said you were clear it was over, too.”

  Hannah says, “I will not be treated like that.”

  “Well, you won’t have to worry about it with me.”

  Hannah glares. “Arney, we’re talking about hanging out, not getting together.”

  Arney backs up. “I know, I know. I just meant—”

  “It will be a long time before I do that again. I sure as hell don’t need a boyfriend to make me whole.”

  “I was just saying . . . I’m just not like that, is all.”

  “Well, it might give Paulie a chance to think about what he messed up.”

  “Yeah, there’s that.” Arney smiles.

  “I need to think about it.” She looks across the parking lot at a minivan full of teenagers pulling in. “You can buy me a burrito. Prove your intentions.”

  Justin Chenier gets out of the backseat of the minivan and squints, watching Arney and Hannah disappear into Taco Time. While the rest of his friends head for the entrance, he crosses the street to Arby’s.

  .8

  Arney Stack walks toward the exit at Comstock Savings and Loan with Woody Hansen, a well-dressed man in his late twenties.

  “You’re doing a great job,” Woody says. “You have unusual instincts for a person your age.”

  “Thanks, Woody,” Arney says dismissively. “’Preciate it.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder and hurries toward the door.

  Woody steps out onto the sidewalk with him. “You know the risks here, right?”

  “Yeah,” Arney says. “I know the risks.”

  “It’s been smooth sailing so far, thanks mostly to you, but if things go south, there’s no backing out.”

  “Do you know my dad?” Arney asks.

  “Mostly by reputation,” Woody says.

  “Well, if you know him, you know what my resolve is like. I won’t be backing out,” Arney says. “I was born for this. Man, I can hardly wait to get out of high school and into the real world full time. The old man wants me to be a businessman. I’ll give it to him in spades.”

  Woody slaps him on the back. “You’re an unusual man, Master Stack,” he says, smiling.

  “Rubbing shoulders with the mucky-mucks, huh?” Hannah says as Arney gets in the car.

  “Not really,” he says. “Guy’s kind of a dick. My dad gave me some money to invest; he wants me to know how to handle finances. Like, real finances. This guy—he’s like third in command at this place—got me in with a couple of lawyers, plus the guy who runs Mountain Sports and the Quality Comfort Motel. We’ve thrown in on some investments.”

  “Wow. You’re like an adult.” Hannah laughs.

  “Kinda,” Arney says. “Dad 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,” Pau
lie 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.