The Long Wait for Tomorrow

  Also by Joaquin Dorfman

  Playing It Cool

  By Ariel and Joaquin Dorfman

  Burning City

  elly held the kid’s arms fast from behind the flagpole, didn’t have to tell the rest what to do. Zack, Cody, and a few of the other players were ready with the duct tape. Starting at the shins, they made their way up past his crotch, large hands surprisingly nimble as they wove Edmund into a gray, opaque cocoon. Edmund’s piercing cries were greeted with laughter and hefty catchphrases, lifted live and direct from any given football practice:

  Go, man, go!

  That’s it, hustle!

  Let’s move it!

  Come on, one, two, you got it!

  And above that, the rip of duct tape unfurling. Soulless and dry, it seemed to fill every inch of the stadium. Empty bleachers, finely shorn blades of grass, all of them echoing with that same, rasping familiarity; even as Edmund’s screams lost traction, turned to meaningless, choking pleas for mercy.

  High above them, the Stars and Stripes whipped soundly along with the wind.

  It was late spring, and Patrick stood to the side, laughing along. Not from any substantial delight in the situation, but more out of an unspoken duty toward it. High school had its rules, laws, hierarchy, and food chain. Absolute, and nonnegotiable, Edmund was simply part of what was and always would be.

  And Kelly was on top of it all.

  It took less than a minute and a half. Kelly’s teeth bit down, severing the roll of tape from its winding tail. Edmund was now strapped, immobile against the iron pipe. Patches of rust rubbed off on his neatly ironed white button-down shirt. Tears ran down his eyes, eliciting further peals of derision.

  And Patrick was more than happy to join in.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Kelly announced, arms folded across his chest. From beneath well-toned muscles, the number 13 peeked out, green numbers against the white football jersey. He tilted his head, addressing Edmund directly now. “You can cry all you want, Eddie,” Kelly informed him. A frenzy of similar statements arose from his teammates as they fed off each other. “Believe it or not, we’re about to do you a real favor.”

  The sprinkler system came to life, a resonance of soprano helicopters accompanying the spray of water.

  Each one of Kelly’s teammates flinched.

  Patrick did his best to take it like a man, but only Kelly truly stood fast against the drizzle. Dirty blond hair catching a bit of the water, letting it fall against his lightly sunburned face; blue eyes unconcerned. Steadfast; letting the water do what it had to do, splashing both him and Edmund; it was as close as they would come to being equals.

  “We know what you saw,” Kelly informed him with calm, easy words. “In case you were wondering what this was all about.”

  Edmund must have guessed as much, launching into his defense: “I didn’t see anything! Believe me, I didn’t! Nothing!”

  “Well, that’s just not true.”

  “It is!” Edmund’s voice wheezed out, already sensing the futility. “It’s true, Kelly, I swear.”

  “Hey!” Cody barked, stepping out just a bit from the rest of the group. His body was all muscle, almost incompatible with his short stature at a mere sixteen years of age. Detonation eyes under a mop-top haircut. “You keep lying, Kelly’s going to skin you alive, got that?”

  “OK, thanks, Cody,” Kelly sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tight while shaking his head. “I’m not going to skin you alive, Edmund. And sorry to insist that we do know what you saw, though I like what you’re trying to say. It’s a good step. I also figure you haven’t told Principal Sedgwick yet—”

  “I haven’t!” Edmund insisted. Grinned manically, frantic hopes surfacing. “I haven’t!”

  “Because if you had, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation. Which is also good.” Kelly gave Edmund a strangely reassuring smile coupled with eyes that didn’t quite agree. “Still, though, I’m afraid that’s not good enough…. We could really use your help here.”

  A knowing chuckle was shared by all.

  “Boys …”

  Kelly didn’t have to say another word.

  The rest got to work, though the next part wasn’t as easy as planned. Their tape job had been a solid one, efficiency exemplified, and getting to Edmund’s belt called for an almost brutal display of force. He was wearing shorts, and as they reached under the web of duct tape, some leg hair had to go, brutally torn from its roots. Edmund screamed as Cody and Zack reached under, crawling upward, working against the adhesive. They unbuttoned his shorts, at which point Edmund must have realized what was about to happen, as he let go of all punctuation. Each shriek became a natural extension of the one before, not a breath taken anywhere between.

  Patrick was struck with a sudden awe, his first time witnessing circular breathing.

  Charlie Parker in his nightmares, his angels whispered.

  Edmund’s shorts were yanked down around his ankles. The white briefs beneath would have been enough to embarrass anyone, but this situation required something beyond the whole nine yards.

  Something damaging.

  They sent his underwear down to join his shorts, and Edmund’s screams cut out all at once. One last dying echo was heard by the in-zone and then the helicopter sounds took over once again. Edmund was exposed. No way around it, though the rest did all they could to make sure he knew it. Pointing and laughing, doubled over in exaggerated delight, it was open house on Edmund’s private parts.

  Splash, splash, Edmund shut his eyes tight as the sprinklers continued to make rainbows in the afternoon sun. His breath began to slow, jaw working, as though trying to summon an invisible, ultimately imaginary force within himself; a desperate comic-book wish gone unanswered.

  Kelly extended his arm toward Patrick.

  Patrick complied instantly, moved with swift motions to ensure the camera’s safety.

  “We’re going to take a little picture now, Edmund.” Kelly took a few steps back, positioned himself … no chance of the camera getting wet, screwing up this priceless moment. “You don’t have to smile or anything, just be yourself.”

  Edmund’s eyes snapped open, and Patrick almost took a cautious step back. The fear was still there, the terror. But upon this traumatic foundation, something unexpected had taken hold: a pitch-perfect rage that seemed to radiate from Edmund in toxic waves. It was pure hatred. A dark plague that couldn’t possibly be coming from the same pathetic creature who moments ago could barely find it in him to scream at his own captors. And now his voice barely trembled under the weight of his own fury.

  “I’ll kill you,” Edmund told them, Adam’s apple working. Grinding out the threat with little compunction. “I swear to God, I’ll kill you all.”

  All at once, Patrick felt his resolve weaken. And, somehow, he could sense this same uneasy relapse poisoning the rest.

  All except Kelly, of course.

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Kelly replied, improvising gracefully through this unscripted moment. “Do what you’re told, Edmund, and none of us has to die.”

  He held the LCD screen up to his eye, and the deal was sealed with a click.

  Edmund’s face regressed into its previous incarnation as the others returned to the fundamentals. Cocky smirks, unchecked swagger. Hyperactive taunts bringing comatose tears to Edmund’s eyes, allowing Patrick’s angels to bless him with their reassurance:

  Everything as it always was and should always be.

  “Cody!” Kelly called over his shoulder.

  Cody ran over, grin painted with a fresh coat of excitement. He watched with wet lips as Kelly removed the memory card from the camera and handed it t
o him.

  “Keep it secret, keep it safe,” Kelly ordered. “Like we discussed. No uploading, no test runs, even between us.”

  Cody’s eyes narrowed. “Kelly, this is the only copy we have.”

  “That’s just the point,” Kelly said, half turning to address Edmund, encapsulating all of them into the pact he’d forged. “It’s a matter of good faith.”

  “Kelly …”

  “He has to trust us, Junior,” Kelly insisted.

  A sour expression flickered across Cody’s eyes at the word Junior.

  Kelly gave him an apologetic look, a compensatory slug on the shoulder. “Run home now, Mad Dog.”

  A spoonful of sugar, and once the medicine went down, Cody did as he was told. Ran across the field, did a few rapid hops, spins, all the while clutching at an imaginary football. He charged past the in-zone, bleachers, and over the chain-link fence, taking a shortcut to the parking lot.

  Kelly turned back to Edmund.

  He extended his hand toward Patrick, who quickly reclaimed his camera.

  “There you have it,” Kelly said. “Cody’s gone. That picture belongs to him now; you’re never going to see it again. And neither will anyone else….”

  Edmund began to struggle madly against his bonds. From fear to anger to pure, unhinged denial. With each fresh turn, the sprinklers offered just enough lubrication to aid in his final struggle. A few of the others allowed for worry, but as far as Kelly was concerned, it was all over.

  “Tell Sedgwick what you saw, Edmund”—Kelly spelled it out with terrifying ease—“and that picture gets posted online faster than you can blink. We find out you told anyone else … you even tell me what you saw, and it turns up in everybody’s mailbox yesterday, understand?”

  Kelly didn’t wait for the OK.

  Edmund’s thrashing had done its job. The water had sufficiently weakened the adhesive, and he broke free with a pathetic sob. Ripped through the duct tape and ran across the field, barely managing to hold up his shorts and white cotton briefs.

  “Leave it,” Kelly said, raising his arm in response to his followers, assuring them there was no need to give chase. He watched as Edmund stumbled his way toward a caged freedom, strands of duct tape streaming from him like an unraveling matinee mummy. “It’s all right … now he knows it.”

  High fives and congratulations all around.

  Kelly turned to Patrick and gave him an approving smile.

  Patrick grinned in return, everybody’s watches set to the afternoon sunlight.

  Kelly slipped out his fifty cents.

  One quarter, then another, a ceremonious moment amid the swath of afternoon shoppers. Patrick stood to the side, watching with parallel reverence. Taking care not to stand too close, to give Kelly his moment with the fountain.

  Kelly’s eyes narrowed, stared across the wet expanse dotted by jets of cascading water. Alongside the miniature geysers stood statues of frolicking children: pure bronze, elated expressions frozen in time. Scores of submerged wishes, quarters, nickels, dimes, surrounded their russet brown sneakers. Arms extended; chasing after each other, or perhaps an unseen bronze puppy that lay just beyond the boundaries of their wondrous bronze world.

  All along the outdoor promenade of South Point Mall, people continued to stroll by, oblivious.

  A conclusion was reached, and Kelly slipped one of the quarters over his thumb with rehearsed dexterity. He flicked his thumb in an extension of that same movement. The twenty-five-cent piece was sent through the air, glinting head over tails, a perfect arc resulting in a satisfying, isolated splash.

  Patrick waited for a moment, then launched into their traditional follow-up: “What’d you wish for, Kelly?”

  Kelly smiled slightly. “What would you have wished for?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Kelly pretended to consider this, then handed Patrick his second quarter. “How about you give it a shot?”

  Patrick turned the coin over in his hand, regarded Washington’s head with suspicion. “What do you think I should wish for?”

  “How about getting your ass off that wait list, and into Ohio State?”

  Patrick paused. He knew the drill, what was expected of him. Even in his own head, he could see it playing out: him nodding, concentrating, and casting the suggested wish onto the waters. Just as they always had, since they were young enough to sacrifice penny bubble gum for the sake of a wish.

  Instead, he found the quarter glued to his palm.

  “Patrick?”

  “I don’t know …” Patrick coughed. “I mean, you know…”

  “No, I don’t,” Kelly replied, annoyed. “You want to come with me to Ohio State or not?”

  “Of course …”

  “So?”

  “I’m just saying.” Patrick shrugged, then began to negotiate. “How about the game? State championship on Friday, we’ve been waiting all year for this moment. How about I wish for—”

  “Look, maybe if the season had actually happened when it was supposed to. Back in the fall, when a loss might have actually swayed a scout or two. But the season was postponed, I got into Ohio State, and you got wait-listed. Now which one of us needs a favor from God? You or me?”

  “Well …” Patrick tried to match Kelly’s irritated tone. It came out sounding meek, almost wounded: “Maybe I don’t want any divine intervention in my life.”

  “You don’t really get to choose that kind of thing.”

  “Then what’s the point of the wish?”

  “There is no point. It’s just something we do, something we’ve always done.”

  “Then you do it,” Patrick told Kelly, holding out the coin with a conciliatory raise of his eyebrows. “OK? Will that—if you do it, make the wish for me, can we just drop it?”

  Kelly took the coin, muttering: “Consider it dropped.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “One wish coming up,” Kelly mumbled again, voice already losing its edge. Slipping back into the well of concentration, focusing. “This one’s for Pat.”

  Patrick gave a relieved hum of approval. He kept his hands folded in front of him, a diminutive five-eight bodyguard to Kelly’s six-one stature. Watched as Kelly prepared himself; going through the motions as though he’d lived it all before, seen it all before. A tradition stretching so far back, Patrick didn’t even know if it had ever meant anything. Didn’t even know why they had come so close to fighting over a world neither of them even believed in.

  Patrick was still wondering, so lost in the fountain’s rush of water that he didn’t notice Jenna approaching.

  Neither of them did, probably the only two who hadn’t seen her exit from the main shopping mall at their backs. It was a rare occasion when Jenna didn’t manage to turn every head within sight. Attention wandering, necks craning from text messages and iPods, it was the moon and the tides with her. Even after a full day of school and work, hair tied up in a simple ponytail, black-and-white Foot Locker shirt doing all it could to ignore the subject of her breasts, she could still make the air-conditioning sweat.

  Round lips, almond-shaped eyes shimmering despite the lengthy shadows of surrounding buildings, she made her way over the red tile sidewalk and snuck up behind Kelly McDermott.

  Patrick caught her in the act, unnecessarily tiptoeing as she inched her hands around Kelly’s head.

  Too late, no time to react, and Jenna’s palms swept in, locked themselves over Kelly’s eyes.

  Kelly’s mouth turned to a nauseated grimace of astonishment, his arm jerking up in a spastic salute to nothingness. It was a mere split-second reaction, but just enough to send the spirits scampering as the coin went flying, ricocheting with little grace off the bronze eye of a capricious child-statue.

  The quarter landed with an unceremonious plunk in a nearby garbage can.

  “Damn it!” Kelly barked. He reached up, clamped down hard on Jenna’s wrists, and spun around. “Jenna, what the hell? I was in the middle of something, you couldn�
��t see I was doing something?”

  Jenna backed up two steps, alarmed. “Kelly, what’s wrong with you?”

  “I just lost my quarter there.”

  “Hell, I’ll get you another one, here—”

  “It doesn’t matter!” Kelly yelled, exasperated. The stares that had followed Jenna over there now promptly retreated to their own business. “It was that one, that’s the one that mattered.”

  “What difference does it make?” Jenna sniped, tearing herself from Kelly’s grip.

  “It’s never going to be the same,” Kelly insisted. “Goddamn it, Jenna.”

  “Kelly …”

  “Never mind,” Kelly said. He leaned back against the rim of the fountain, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head clear. “Just, never mind … You done with work, baby?”

  Jenna blinked, unsure if this was the same conversation. “Yeah.”

  “Tell you what, we’ll grab a bite to eat, how’s that sound?”

  “Yeah, sounds good.”

  Kelly turned to his wingman, smiling now. Almost encouraging … “Patrick, you in? Know you love that double cheeseburger, onion, pickles, mayo … 57 Sauce, amigo.”

  Patrick hadn’t caught up quite yet, managed a pert nod. “Gotta get my stuff first.”

  “Gonna get some money from the ATM.” Kelly bounced himself off the fountain and swooped in to give Jenna a quick kiss on the lips. “It’s good to see you, honey.”

  And Kelly was headed across the promenade, stopping only to pick up a doll for a clumsy five-year-old, who then went on her way without a single thank-you.

  Patrick saw Jenna looking after Kelly. Her face was awash with the honest confusion of a misfired prank, unable to give in to her livid instincts. She turned to Patrick, as though expecting an answer from him. Patrick shook his head, as he frequently did when apologizing for Kelly.

  These were times Patrick wished he had it in him to act.

  Put Kelly in his place.

  But neither Patrick nor Jenna was entirely certain where that place was.

  There were times, it seemed, when Kelly McDermott was simply eternal.

  They left Jenna in the car, out on the street.