Mr. 60% Read online

“Oh. No.”

  The border agent handed back his license. “Drive safely.”

  Matt swallowed. He stared at the border agent. Thankfully his feet were quicker than his mind and he pressed on the gas pedal and eased out of the security checkpoint. One minute later he was on the freeway, driving home.

  —

  Matt counted the money in his head on the way home. He added up the time since he had left the trailer and figured out how much money he’d made by the hour. He tried not to think about how easy it would be to do it again.

  When Matt returned to the trailer, Amanda and Jack were sitting in the kitchen area, the little table covered with colored markers and Halloween cards. Jack was actually wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants instead of his bathrobe.

  “Hi, Matt,” Amanda said.

  “You back already?” Jack said. He leaned over and stage-whispered to Amanda, “Just watch. Mr. Sunny Disposition here’ll ruin all our fun now.”

  “Nice to see you, too, Jack.” Matt took off his coat and hung it on the doorknob. He walked across the room and took a soda from the fridge. “Looks like quite the arts and crafts project you two have going there.”

  “We’re making cards,” Amanda said. “Turns out Jack has some hidden artistic talent.”

  But Matt noticed the bowl of food amid all the Sharpies and glue sticks. “Hey, it looks like you’re branching out. Are you actually eating something besides ice cream and fish sticks?”

  Jack looked down at the bowl in front of him, then winked at Amanda. “Well, sure I am. Finally got a decent cook around here.”

  Amanda smiled in return. “It was nothing. Just apple slices mixed with cinnamon and sugar, heated up in the microwave.”

  “Tasty,” Jack said, waggling his eyebrows.

  “And it’s even good for you,” Amanda said. “In the dieting world it’s known as Fat Girl’s Apple Pie. You should give it a try, Matt, you might like it.”

  The sense memory washed over Matt. His salivary glands kicked into action, filling up his mouth until he had to swallow.

  “Oh, he’s tried it,” Jack said. “They also call it Poor Man’s Apple Pie. Tell her, Matt.”

  Matt’s face burned. “What?” He knew, of course.

  “His mom,” Jack said, smiling. What was up with him? He was practically bubbly. “Matt’s mom used to make it all the time when he was just a little guy.”

  Matt hurried to change the subject. “So what’re you guys doing with all these cards?”

  Amanda looked sheepish but handed a Halloween card to Matt. The cartoon ghost on the cover sported a freshly drawn reddish-orange beard.

  A powerful wave of nostalgia hit Matt. He remembered being a kid, when every holiday greeting card from Jack had been doctored to give the characters his signature redhead features. Matt still had a shoe box full of those cards in the tiny bedroom closet, the only remaining mementos of his childhood; Santa Clauses with orange beards, Easter Bunnies covered in freckles, leprechauns with flaming hair spilling out from underneath their little green hats. He remembered thinking at the time that he must be the only kid in the world to get cards exactly like these.

  Matt had looked forward to getting the cards so much, had read them so many times, that it still seemed weird sometimes when he saw pictures of those characters in their normal state. The traditional Santa with a white beard was not the one he had fallen in love with.

  He looked at the card for a long time.

  “Matt?” Amanda said. “Is everything okay? We thought that—”

  “What’re you just standing there for? Open it up,” Jack said.

  Matt blinked a few times, shaking off the memories. The caption on the front of the card read, Happy Halloween. Jack had added three little dots after the letters, so now it read, Happy Halloween…

  Matt opened the card. A crowd of red-bearded ghosts circled the words Jack had written on the inside: …from beyond the grave! Jack had drawn a cartoon word bubble coming from one of the ghosts that said, Boo-wahahahaha!

  Jack watched Matt’s face, his eyes crinkled up in delight. When Matt closed the card Jack’s slim shoulders shook with laughter. “Well?” he said between chuckles.

  “I don’t get it,” Matt said.

  “What’s not to get? After I kick the bucket I’m gonna have you mail these out the last week of October. Everybody’ll get a Halloween card from a real ghost!” Jack’s laughter grew louder and longer until it turned into a wheezing attack. When he caught his breath he said, “Isn’t that great?”

  Matt tried unsuccessfully to force a smile. Thinking about a holiday without Jack was the least funny thing he could imagine. He ended up just shaking his head. “You are one morbid bastard.” He didn’t know whether he was kidding or not.

  Jack rolled his eyes and nudged Amanda with his elbow. “I told you. His sense of humor broke when he was a kid. I ain’t been able to fix it since.”

  Matt looked at Amanda and gestured to the marker in her hand. “And you’ve been encouraging him?”

  “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a man who wants to color and use glitter.” She and Jack shared a grin.

  But her smile slipped a bit when she looked back up at Matt. “They were meant to…We just thought it would be funny.”

  Matt’s whole body heated up until he felt smothered by his own clothes. “How many of these did you make, anyway?” He knew his voice was just a little too loud. He picked up a stack of the cards.

  “Loads. I’m gonna have you send them to all of my friends.”

  “Friends?” Matt stalked to the corner and threw the half-empty soda bottle into the garbage can so hard that the can tipped over. Amanda flinched. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” His voice was much too loud for the cramped trailer now.

  “What’s yer problem?” Jack said.

  Matt turned. “Which friends, Jack?”

  Jack’s smile disappeared. “I got friends.”

  “Really?” Matt stretched out his arms and took an exaggerated look around the little trailer. “Where are they?”

  “I got friends, you little punk.”

  “Oh, right, it’s just that they never—”

  “I got lots of friends, in lots of towns.” Jack was forced to stop talking by a series of harsh, dry coughs. Matt crossed his arms, fuming. He faced Amanda, eyebrows raised, and looked a question at her: How could you be in on this? Amanda avoided his gaze and attended to Jack, patting him during his hacking jag.

  “I didn’t spend my whole life in this goddamn trailer, you know,” Jack said after the coughing subsided.

  “Oh, I know, I know, I’m just wondering how I’m going to find all these good buddies of yours to send them your little cards.” Matt hadn’t realized it until this moment but his nerves were still on edge from the border crossing. “It’s not like any of them ever stop by to visit, you notice that?”

  “My friends don’t—”

  “You know what? Go on and invite some of these friends over sometime. Or—I know—maybe they could swing by around midnight and haul your ass to the bathroom and I could get some fucking sleep.”

  Jack growled and pushed himself out of his chair. Matt had seen that look in his eyes before. It meant someone was going to get his ass kicked.

  But Jack slipped and fell back against the cheap vinyl, coughing again. His glare intensified. He grabbed the nearest thing at hand—a glue stick—and hurled it at Matt. It bounced pitifully off his chest.

  Amanda scooched her chair back. “Hey, guys. It’s okay. Take it easy,” she said, looking warily between the two. They ignored her.

  Jack crossed his arms over his chest and glared back at Matt. “Jesus, but yer a killjoy. I’ll look up the addresses myself. Shit, if you had any friends you’d understand why I was doing this in the first place.”

  “Oh, if I had any friends?” Matt clenched his teeth together but the words came spilling out anyway. “Yeah, it’s real easy to make friends when I spend all of my time t
aking care of you.”

  Jack flinched as if he’d been slapped. Matt hated himself, hated that he couldn’t take the words back. Hated that he didn’t know if he even wanted to.

  “Matt?” Amanda said. “I don’t think you should—”

  “Oh, so now you don’t want me here, huh? That it?” Jack’s throat was going dry, his voice raspy. “That’s not what you were sayin’ when yer mom left. You were just a scared-shitless kid.”

  Matt glanced at Amanda, the embarrassment making his anger more intense. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m older now, Jack. I can take care of myself.”

  “Well, so can I. I don’t need you.” Jack rose out of his chair, grunting with the effort. “I never needed you.” He tried to storm away, but his body failed him and he ended up shambling off-kilter down the hall to the bedroom.

  Matt was caught between wanting to help him down the hall and the desire to shove him the rest of the way with both hands. When the door closed, it was a pale imitation of a slam, but Matt flinched anyway.

  Amanda slowly stood up. “I better get going,” she said. Her voice was tight, on the verge of breaking.

  “Here,” Matt said. He reached into his pocket and took out a wad of cash. He peeled off three fifty-dollar bills. “This is for gas.”

  Amanda looked at the money. “Matt, that’s way too much. I can’t take that.”

  “It’s not just for gas, then, okay? It’s for babysitting. For putting up with his shit for a few hours.” Matt jerked his head in the direction of Jack’s bedroom. “No one should have to do that.”

  “I came because I wanted to.”

  “You wanted to be here?” Matt looked around at the walls of the little trailer. He knew he should stop; he wanted to stop. But he didn’t know how. “Then you’re as fucked up as he is.”

  Amanda looked at the floor instead of at Matt. But she still gathered herself and spoke. “I came here because I wanted to, Matt. I like being with Jack, and I wanted to help you.” Her hands were shaking, and she clasped them together.

  Matt reached into his pocket, pulled out another fifty-dollar bill and added it to the three in his hand. He threw the bills at her but they fluttered to the floor. He kicked them across the linoleum at her.

  Amanda lifted her head and looked down the hall at Jack’s bedroom, and then straight into Matt’s eyes. She even took a step toward him. “Why are you acting like this?” Her voice might have been a little shaky, but it was loud.

  “I’m not acting like anything. I am like this.” Matt retreated the few steps to the front door. “You two can make as many fucking farewell cards as you want.” The whole trailer shook when he slammed the door behind him.

  Matt walked all the way into town through a rain that was steady but misty. He walked until it got dusky enough for the streetlights to come on, and then he walked in the dark.

  The anger had left him quickly. Trying to remember why he had gotten so furious was like trying to remember the details of a dream where no one had a face.

  Although the anger had totally drained away, he did not feel empty. That space was filled up now with hatred, with a dull loathing for the Matt back at the trailer. Jesus, that guy was an ass. And taking out his shit on Amanda? Who does that?

  He walked underneath the awnings in the shopping district, looking through the lighted windows at people. Three kids and their parents sitting in a restaurant booth. A girl showing a pair of jeans to her boyfriend. A group of friends laughing about something. Everyone connected to everyone else.

  Matt knew that after Jack died, all of those people would go on with their lives, just like nothing had happened.

  —

  When Matt got back to the trailer it was pitch-black, the rain clouds completely obscuring the moon and stars. The Buick Electra was still there, a dark lump in the gravel driveway.

  He stepped through the door and stomped on the carpet, shaking the water from his hair and clothes. Amanda was sitting on the couch, reading a book under the lamp.

  “He’s in bed,” she said, standing up. “I only stayed because I was concerned about him. Don’t worry, I’m leaving now.”

  Matt took off his jacket and tossed it on the ground. He couldn’t remember ever being this tired.

  “How is he?”

  “He was pretty upset, Matt. Obviously,” Amanda said, not looking at him. “But we found his meds and he was eventually able to get to sleep.”

  Matt slumped into the recliner. Amanda walked to the kitchen table, took her jacket from one of the chairs and slipped it on. She crossed to the door, reached for the handle and paused. “He wasn’t trying to be a jerk or anything, you know.”

  Matt nodded. The nubby weave of the carpet blurred before his eyes.

  “He really thought you’d like the cards.” She turned to look at him. “He was just trying…He said you used to like getting those cards. Back, you know, when things were better.”

  Matt shrugged. There were no words.

  Amanda opened the door, took one step out into the rain, then turned and stepped back into the trailer.

  “Matt, can I give you some advice?”

  He was silent.

  “The last time I talked to my dad, I was so upset because he couldn’t come to my school.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “It was just this stupid picnic at the end of the year, you know? But all the other parents were there—or at least it seemed like it—and I was so embarrassed. So I got mad at him.”

  Amanda took a deep breath and turned back to the door. “You never know when something you say to Jack…is going to be the last thing you say to him.”

  She pulled the jacket’s hood over her head and walked out the door.

  Matt sat in the recliner all night, slipping in and out of restless sleep. He wanted to be at least semialert in case Jack woke up and needed something. Maybe it’d be one of those nights when Jack was awake for a few hours, and then Matt would get the chance to talk to him, to try to explain somehow. But Jack slept the whole night through, the first time he had done that in a long time.

  —

  Matt wasn’t able to completely wake Jack up in the morning. Just enough to get his pills into him along with a couple of sips of water. Jack didn’t say anything; he barely opened his eyes.

  Matt brought some cereal into Jack’s bedroom and ate it dry, out of the box, sitting by Jack’s bed and watching him breathe. He stayed in the room as long as possible, hating the fact that he had to leave to get to first period.

  —

  As he approached the school, Matt tried to focus. Another high-demand time was approaching—spring break—and he had a lot of business to attend to. Every one of his in-house stash spots was full, and he had a lot of distributing to do.

  Matt entered the school and walked by Officer Hershey’s cubbyhole on the first floor. He figured he’d give Hershey a chance to search him right away, and then hopefully he could get down to business.

  But Hershey wasn’t there. Matt roamed the first floor, walking by spots where the big officer sometimes stood to greet students, but he wasn’t at any of them.

  Matt circled back to the cluster of administrative offices on the first floor. Mr. Marsh was standing outside his office sipping coffee. He waved Matt over.

  “Hello there. I haven’t seen you in a while, Matt.”

  “I’ve been pretty busy.”

  “I see, I see. So, have you given any thought to that application I gave you?”

  “I’ve been pretty busy.”

  “We make time for things that are important to us, don’t we, Matt?”

  “I guess. I just don’t know if that’s for me, you know?”

  Mr. Marsh glanced around at the office doors and leaned toward Matt. He spoke in a lower voice. “Speaking of time, be careful about how you spend yours today, okay?” A group of kids walked by, and Mr. Marsh slipped inside his office and closed the door.

  —

  Matt walked up the fi
rst set of stairs to Mr. Fitzsimmons’s classroom. Fitzsimmons usually had a smoke right before the school day started, and Matt could retrieve some of his product there first.

  When he was halfway up the stairs, someone called his name. He turned and two regular customers ran up the steps behind him.

  “Hey, we been looking everywhere for you,” the tall one said.

  Matt eyed them warily. “What’s up?”

  A group of freshman girls walked down the steps and the boys were silent. After they passed, the tall one whispered, “You hear about what happened this weekend?”

  “No, I just got here,” said Matt. “What’s going on?”

  The tall one looked at the guy with the baseball cap. “You tell him.”

  “My sister was here all weekend,” Baseball Cap said. “She’s in the play and they have crazy rehearsal hours. So it’s Sunday afternoon, and she’s out in the hallway behind the stage, practicing her lines and making play posters or whatever the hell else they do. And she sees the dogs.”

  “What dogs?”

  Baseball Cap leaned in eagerly. “Hershey and his cop buddies, they brought, like, five or six dogs in here, leading them all over the school. My sister says they were still here when she left and that was over three hours later.”

  Matt went cold all over.

  “We think they were drug-sniffers,” the tall one said.

  Baseball Cap smacked him on the shoulder. “No shit, they were sniffers. What else would cops be doing with a bunch of dogs?”

  “Anyway, we just wanted to tell you, bro,” the tall one said. “ ’Cause if you get busted, there’d be a serious supply problem around here.”

  The warning bell rang. Students streamed up the staircase and the two regulars floated away with them.

  —

  Matt couldn’t feel his feet touch the floor as he walked through the school. He didn’t hear the conversations around him, either, didn’t hear anything; it was like walking underwater. He ignored the bell for first period and roamed the halls alone after everyone disappeared inside their classrooms.

  Matt cruised past all his stash spots. The loose paneling in the locker room had been fixed up and repainted. The oversized plastic pots with the fake plants in the student lounge had been removed. Everything was gone.