The Crew

Untitled Part 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cannonball arrived at D.D.'s place with Bear, Bone, and Johnny. He shoved the door open without knocking, dark shades on, lips taut, holding a bottle of rum, walking past me and D.D. over to the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. D.D. and I smiled at each other knowingly, rolling our eyes, shaking our heads at the spectacle that was Cannon. Bear and Bone and Johnny trailed in after, quietly, matter-of-factly, in deliberate understatement that they were bearing several bottles as well.

The scenario was this: St. Andy's was celebrating Beach Fest, a yearly end-of-the-school finale, at Pitus Point Beach, up north, tomorrow. It was this absurd event where the whole school—all 250 of us—trekked out to the beach in Ventura and enjoyed each other one last time before finals and summer vacation started. Summer was only three short weeks away. What no one else knew was that Sarah and I would be splitting dodge. A surge of adrenaline pumped up my body when I thought of it.

The plan: Drink at D.D.'s, go to the show, end up at Lorenzo's, head to the beach first thing in the morning.

It was amazing I was even here. My mother never found out I'd been in the hospital—they hadn't snagged my ID—but due to my escape from home she'd grounded me an extra month. My father always at work, though, she could not prevent me from leaving the house. Besides, I'd just jump into D.D. or Bear's car, straight from campus. She would yell, condemn my friends, but it didn't matter. This freight train chugged on its own.

After distributing the booze, it was time for an old fashioned Crew powwow. We all gripped a bottle and D., Bone, me, Johnny and Bear sat around in a circle looking at Cannon, sipping our drinks, listening intently to our leader spinning his web.

I sat on the fence about Cannon. I longed for his kinship, his approval, his acceptance, his praise, more than anything. At the same time, at some point I'd have to confront him about last summer. But for now, I seemed to have him and The Crew and Sarah as well. I had everything I needed. It was perfect. But some brewing force was present in the room, some energy, and I felt intuitively that change was on the horizon.

Cannon placed his right foot up on a chair, knee bent, shades still on. "Now, boys, we got a lot of stuff going on here in the next twenty-four hours, right? This show's gonna be a solid one with the venue right here in Oxnard, so we can walk. Sobriety is not an option my friends!"

We all cheered, Bone raising his arm, bent at the elbow, fist clenched, imitating a train whistle tugged down twice as we looked at one another in confirmation of our pact.

Cannon authoritatively removed his shades, eyeing us solemnly. I realized there was a "system." Cannon knew what he was doing. He wasn't winging it. It made me think of Mr. Bry, how he'd said sometimes there was a solid rationale for the system, how I might not fully understand that now, being so young, but one day I would.

But all the "systems" seemed to be failing me: Family; education; even The Crew. It was undeniable: Cannon's order was a system, hierarchical, vertical, capitalistic.

"Now now boys, pipe down." He waited for our full attention before proceeding. "Since this is a local neighborhood venue and also our end-of-the-year St. Andy's Prep School Finale, I invited the bitches. Now, this show is key; we're gonna rock this place tonight and not take anybody's shit while we're at it. We all got each other's back, even Dog's!"

Everyone yowled at this stab directed at me, which caught me short. I glowered at Cannon, catching his eyes for a second, the room somehow blurring into the background, everyone gone except me and him, staring at each other. The fierce resolve in his eyes blunted any certainty I'd previously had about where he stood in the whole thing.