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.He reached in and pulled Randall’s leather jacket from a hanger.“It needs to be cleaned,” Jesse said, displaying the spill of caked vomit down one of the flaps.Randall jerked one hand impatiently, and Jesse handed the jacket to him.He felt for the hard lump of the flask in the inside pocket, and, to his relief, found it.Jesse stood over the bed, watching intently as Randall removed the flask and uncapped it.It was more than half full.“You must have hit the scotch pretty hard,” Jesse said.No, I didn’t, Randall thought.I’ve hit a lot of goddamn things pretty hard, and never fallen so fast.“Jesse, did I.” He couldn’t finish and let out a frustrated sigh.“What?” Jesse asked, a smile in his voice.“I didn’t.try anything, did I?” He brought one hand to his aching forehead.Jesse spoke, mouth inches from his ear.“No you didn’t.And I was very hurt.” Jesse tousled Randall’s hair before crossing to his side of the room.Randall tried to prop himself up on both his elbows and his stomach yowled.He landed on the pillows with a groan.Three deep breaths and the cramping in his abdomen abated.This was not a hangover.This was something worse.Had the scotch truly been rancid? Could scotch even go bad? He had no idea.Something else had been in the scotch.He froze, eyes on the ceiling.The realization quickened his pulse, flushing his veins, sending blood to his brain and clarifying his thoughts.Jesse’s voice startled him.‘Your hand looks like your legs.Only newer.”Randall let his eyes fall to Jesse, who was leaning against the edge of the window.“Different,” was all Randall could manage.“I figured.” Jesse seemed to lose interest in the subject, his eyes narrowing on the crack between the shade and the window.“Remember the phone call last Friday?”Randall grunted no.“The one you asked about.”“Yeah?”“It wasn’t my Father.It was his lawyer.”“Jesse, I didn’t mean to.piss you off about it.”“Yes, you did,” Jesse retorted calmly.“My dad’s a pretty good addict, if there is such a thing.I mean, I remember him showing up at school functions, acting all the gentleman, when I knew he’d sucked down a few lines in the limo on the way there.Well, a few weeks ago he kind of lost control.He was having some big party at the house and he and a few guests ended up in the neighbor’s pool.Considering this is the third time this year Dad’s got the two pools confused, the neighbors decided to file a trespassing charge.I’m sure it didn’t help that he refused to get out of their hot tub even when the police showed up.”Pale light around the shade had brightened into a beam that sliced across Jesse’s chest.“Anyway.He’s looking at twenty-eight days.”“Prison.”“No.Rehab.”“That sucks,” Randall said, his voice wary.“So you’re not going home for the break?”“I was never going home for the break,” Jesse said, his eyes on Randall’s.Quickly Jesse lifted the shade.Even the pale light of dawn forced Randall to squint, and at first he didn’t see the flakes tumbling past the window, which seemed to hold Jesse in sudden thrall."People like snow because they think it unifies everything,” Jesse said in a low voice.“They think it draws all these disparate elements into one landscape.Like how a layer of white over everything draws your attention to things you didn’t notice before.The telephone pole, the wires overhead, the rooftops.” Jesse paused, his eyes glazed and distant as they stared through the glass at the silent snowfall.“Bullshit,” he whispered.“Too much of it is suffocating.It robs each thing of what it really is.”Randall realized he had been gazing at Jesse for longer than he usually allowed himself to, for fear of feeling that familiar hot flicker of panic that told him looking too long would make him want too much.But given what Jesse had just shared, it would be too rude just to curl up into a ball.For the first time, Randall felt Jesse’s solitude like a crushing weight; here he was at Atherton, friendless and having run across country to escape the nightmare of his only living parent.But the longer he watched Jesse gaze out the window, the more Randall could feel Jesse’s hunger for his companionship.It was too loaded an invitation for Randall to accept.“Well.” Jesse broke the silence, turning to his bed.“Since you don’t look like you’re about to choke on your own vomit, I’m going to get some sleep, okay?” He slid beneath his comforter and rolled to face the wall.Randall couldn’t say anything in response.He couldn’t tell Jesse that he knew his solitude, knew the damage that resulted from turning yourself into an orphan.He reached down and shoved the flask under his bed.In the driveway, Eric’s Camry sat alone in a bed of deepening shadow as late Saturday afternoon turned into an evening of darkening pewter sky.Randall’s hangover slowed his steps, even though he was invigorated by a strange blend of purpose and fear.By the time he reached the front steps, he had managed to convince himself that the bottle hadn’t been poisoned and that his mind was running wild with guilt-fueled fantasies.He’d skipped dinner the night before.Could drinking on an empty stomach drop you to your knees?With one hand on the banister he realized there was still only one way to quiet the racket of accusing voices in his head.Get the bottle.He’d taken several steps when he heard the unmistakable sound of voices raised in argument in the living room, and while he couldn’t make out the words, Randall could hear Eric arguing, and another male voice trying to trump his volume.Randall squeezed himself between the Camry and the side wall of the house, moving slowly toward the gate to the backyard, illuminated by the bright halo of a security light.At first, instinct had driven him into the alley.He hadn’t called to say he was coming over, maybe hoping to catch Eric off guard, but that meant running the risk of being seen.Now, as he listened to footsteps and saw a shadow pass over the wall of the neighboring house, curiosity led him to eavesdrop.Eric and his guest moved into the kitchen.Randall shut his eyes, hoping it would help him concentrate on the muffled voices inside.The sudden song of water through pipes told him Eric was standing at the sink beneath the window.“How many times do I have to ask to be kept in the dark?” The other voice gave an inaudible response, and when Eric spoke again, he had obviously turned from the sink because he was harder to hear.“I don’t see why it’s so important to you.” Nothing, and then Eric again.“Just a look? That’s all? Even when you know you don’t have my approval?”They left the kitchen and the conversation was lost within the house.Next, Randall heard footsteps plodding down the front hallway.When he heard the front door open, he held himself flat against the side wall.Mitchell Seaver strode past the entrance to the driveway, tossing his head back and brushing his bangs off his forehead before he disappeared.Randall moved swiftly down the driveway and caught a glimpse of Mitchell a block away before he made a sudden right, heading away from campus.Randall managed to wait almost a minute before mounting the front steps.Eric threw the front door open with such force that Randall guessed he had been expecting Mitchell to return.“Did you call first?” he asked.“No.Sorry.”Eric nodded, his eyes flitting past Randall, probably checking to see if Mitchell was still in the street.“Can I come in?”Eric shrugged and let out a grunt.“Good to see you too,” Randall muttered as he brushed past Eric through the doorway.The dining-room light was on and Randall’s eyes flew to a stack of stapled student papers on the usually empty dining-room table.Eric crossed briskly out from behind him, and Randall watched as Eric began to leaf through them with feigned nonchalance [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]