The Crew

Untitled Part 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cannonball was down the beach getting into the water along with the rest of the St. Andy's kids. His figure looked tiny against the curving coastline. D.D. had trudged off, hands in pockets, moving slowly, in no hurry. I looked behind me and saw their backpacks, a half-eaten sandwich lying on a rock, each guy's shoes placed haphazardly by his pack. The world around me fell silent, the rhythmic crashing waves and indistinct sounds of kids shrieking.

It was over. The two guys who'd taken a chance on me and led me in were calling the shots, saying I was a goner. I had stepped on Cannon's toes. A boundary, several actually, had been crossed. What was I going to do? I wanted, no, I needed, Cannon's friendship. But on the flip side of the same coin, I desired more than ever to be my own man. And I wanted Sarah with me, by my side.

In-between this polarization was the fact that I was becoming some other being, separate and severed from Cannon and The Crew, different from everything and everyone. I was becoming my real self. Or at least some version of it. An emotional egg hatching, a developing, irreversible phenomenon.

Was it honestly over? I'd worked so hard to find The Crew, to lure D.D., to separate myself from the nerds. I'd fought my mom, battled St. Andy's, passed through so many barriers I'd lost track. I'd learned a hell of a lot, about how to think, how to act, how to be discerning, how to stand up for myself, how to power through fear. How to rebel. Life lessons I'd never forget. Damn it. Losing Cannon? Losing D.D.? Losing Bear? Losing The Crew?

"What are you doing; are you alright?"

I jerked my head. My reverie had been smashed like the cabinet glass I'd smashed when I'd thrown the bottle at Laura's house. It was Sophia.

"You scared the Christ outta me; Jesus."

She stood 10 feet away, hair blowing in the breeze, a green bandanna tied around her forehead. She sported a red bikini, the top clearly visible beneath a thin white T-shirt tied in a knot above her bellybutton. A smile made its way onto her face, her radiant eyes squinting.

"Cannonball and the guys went for a dip. I didn't wanna go," I said, holding my hand above my eyes to shield against the sun's glare.

Sophia sauntered over, plopping herself next to me. She stared straight at the horizon. Then she cast her gaze in my direction, staring hard, looking at me for the first time since we'd met at the motel party.

"Want to tell me what's really going on?"

She kept staring. "No. I don't."

"Fair enough," she said.

"Hey," I said. "You see Sarah and Laura over there?"

"Yep. I was just talking to them."

How strange. Why had they stayed over there?

I faced her. "Did they say anything, about me, about The Crew?"

A look passed her features, as if she were hiding something. "No. Just small talk. Making fun of the dumb St. Andy's girls, how they run around like twats, giggling. God I hate those bitches."

"Can I ask you a question? I mean, a personal one?" I said.

"Sure."

"Well, I was wondering what happened between you and Cannonball that night at the motel."

Sophia cut off our private staring match. She bloomed red in the cheeks. Picking up a few small pebbles from the sand, she hurled them in the direction of the water. "He seemed distracted the whole time. I asked him what was up. He said nothing at first and then we went into the bathroom." She paused. "You sure you wanna hear this, Jack?"