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Illustration by David Dann
“HEY, LANNY, turn up the heat, will you? It’s freezing back here.” Ricky’s toes were frozen. He wished he’d worn socks. His boots weren’t enough to keep out the cold, and it was cold in the back seat.
He reached over the seat and poked the driver. “Hey. Turn it up, OK?”
The kid behind the wheel glanced in the rearview mirror. “Sorry, man, heat back there’s busted.”
“Jesus,” Ricky groaned, slumping back. He stamped his feet on the floor. “If we don’t get there soon, I’m gonna get frostbite.”
The five kids in the car were friends, all high school students. The four boys had known each other since grade school. The fifth—the girl—was new. She had moved to Peabody the previous spring. Her name was Louise, but she went by Eezie. She didn’t seem to care how it made people react. She was in the middle, Ricky on one side, Big Ben on the other.
“Poor baby,” Eezie cooed. She snuggled up to her sockless companion, resting her head on his shoulder. The fuzz of her angora beret tickled Ricky’s nose, and her hair smelled like cigarettes and patchouli. “That better?” she asked coyly.
“No. But, uh, yeah.” The boy pulled his hands up into the sleeves of his pea coat and leaned into her. He looked up toward the front seat. “Hey, man, how much longer?”
It was Lanny’s idea to go up north. He said his parents always went to New Hampshire in the summer and there they would spend a couple of weeks in a cabin owned by his uncle. Now that it was winter, the place was closed up and nobody was around. The friends could drive up there, Lanny explained, spend an afternoon hanging out in the woods, maybe smoke a little dope and get back to nature. What he didn’t say, but what the friends instinctively understood, was that it was a place they could go to get away from the tedium of having nothing to do for yet another long weekend.
Though it was late March, the ground was still covered with patches of dirty snow. As the car droned along in I-95’s right lane, occasional wet patches sent up gritty spray audible in the wheel wells. Passing trees, reaching like boney fingers into the suet-colored sky, provided roosting places for the crows who reluctantly abandoned road kill as the car passed. Traffic was light, but it was still early and most potential drivers were only just waking up to their Saturday morning coffee. Trucks were out, though, and each dirty rig that passed the Chevy sedan left an additional layer of spotty grime on the windshield. Every so often, Lanny pushed open the triangular vent window, reached out and wiped a corner of the glass with a wadded rag. When the spray was wet enough, he’d run the wipers for a few strokes, creating a translucent smear.
“Man, how can you see through that?” laughed Harry, riding shotgun. Long red hair dangled from under his Red Sox cap in irregular rivulets, but it was his scarlet mustache and goatee that were Harry’s most impressive accomplishment. He looked like a flamed version of Mr. Zig-Zag.
“I mostly can’t. But it’s OK. We’re almost there,” said Lanny, squinting through a clear spot. He too had a mustache, though it was little more than wishful thinking. His most prominent feature was his dark-framed glasses with their thick, Coke-bottle lenses. They always seemed to be sliding down his nose. He pointed to a passing road sign. “There—next exit.”
The old car slowed after a few minutes, its right blinker signaling the approaching change. As it merged onto the off ramp and banked right, Eezie and Ricky in the back seat slid up against Big Ben, rousing him. The hulking youth groaned and straightened up. “Where are we?” he muttered. And then, looking out the window, he tried to focus. “We there yet?”
Ben was over six feet tall and had the physique of a linebacker. Peabody High’s head football coach tried every year to recruit him for the varsity squad, and every year the coach failed. Ben would rather read science fiction than run wind sprints and execute tackle drills. With his shoulder-length blond hair and lantern jaw, he resembled Thor from the Avengers. The only thing that wasn’t big about Ben was his voice. It was high-pitched and breathy, and when he spoke it was usually in short bursts, almost as though he hoped no one would notice the disparity.
“Soon,” said Lanny. “We take 107 to East Kingston. Not far from there.”
The driver was the only one of the friends who had his own car. Lanny had purchased the Chevrolet, a chalk-colored 1960 Impala four-door, right after getting his license, using money he’d saved from working at his father’s hardware store. It was a beater and had its quirks, but the Chevy was dependable enough that the teens spent much of their free time riding around in it. One lazy summer afternoon, they had tried to improve its frumpy exterior with paint from the hardware store. Ricky, the artist in the group, painted a large Thor on the car’s hood in tribute to Big Ben, and Eezie had been talked into dipping her bare feet in purple paint and walking a footprint racing stripe from the rear of the car to its front bumper. Harry added a huge peace sign on the trunk and Lanny had painted a passenger-side door with the words “JACK’S DENT” and an arrow pointing to an indentation, a spot kicked in one night by an inebriated townie of that name. Just above the front grill they spelled out the word “FURTHER” in psychedelic script, a tribute they hoped would connect them to the Pranksters in the minds of the culturally informed.
The car was taking them farther now than they had ever gone before. The excursion was an adventure, a lark, something different to do. Something adults might do. And weren’t they really adults? All of them seniors in high school, spending their last semester tied to their families and their sleepy little town? It was time to get out and explore the world. That’s what Lanny said, and they all agreed. “Day-trippers, one-way tickets, yeah!” Harry made them all laugh.
But it didn’t feel much like a lark to Ricky, not now. He had only a vague idea where they were going, and no idea what they would do when they got there. He was cold and uncomfortable, and would have skipped the New Hampshire sojourn altogether if Eezie hadn’t said she’d go. When she snuggled up against him, things brightened and he hoped it meant something more than just one friend warming another. How could it not? But now she was curled up against Big Ben, her eyes closed, her scarf pulled up over her nose. Was she asleep? Ricky turned to the window, wiped away a bit of condensation and stared out at the passing landscape. The Granite State was gray and colorless, and his feet were freezing.
SOMEONE HAD TURNED the lights out after a half-hearted game of spin the bottle, nobody really taking the corny kissing routine seriously. They were all just friends, laughing and being silly on the floor at Harry’s house, in his parents’ living room. Mr. and Mrs. Kellerman were away for the weekend, and Harry had invited the crew over for a summer solstice celebration and pizza party. Lanny, Big Ben, Ricky and a few others were there. The new girl too. She had recently moved into one of the ranch houses in the development over by Northshore Mall, and now Ricky found himself sitting in the dark next to her.
Eezie Callahan wasn’t pretty. At least Ricky didn’t think so when he first met her at a Student Mobe meeting one afternoon after school. He’d seen her in the halls, but hadn’t really paid any attention. Now that they were in a classroom together with a group of other students against the war, all good friends of Ricky’s, she suddenly stood out. As they discussed the upcoming peace march in Boston, he watched her. Her long hair, champagne blond with a slight wave, was parted in the middle and framed her face with a severity that emphasized its plainness. Like the farmer’s wife in that Grant Wood painting, Ricky thought. Though she was small, he noticed that Eezie tended to hunch over when she walked, giving the impression she was wading upstream. Her Southie accent was so thick it almost seemed like a put-on. But her laugh had a bright ring that came easy, and her eyes, ringed with too much mascara, were brightly mischievous. By the end of the meeting, Ricky was smitten.
Since then, they’d gotten to know each other, and Eezie had become a regular member of the crew. Riding around, hanging out, going to protests—they were always together. Ricky sensed that she was interested, but the opportunity to explore more than friendship never seemed to arrive. Ricky was not one to create opportunities, but now, on the floor in Harry’s living room, it seemed circumstance had provided him with an opening.
“Do you want to smoke a joint?” Eezie asked, leaning back against the foot of the sofa.
“Yeah, OK.” With the curtains parted on the picture window opposite them, the big room was softly illuminated by the streetlights outside. Ricky watched the light play over her silvery hair as Eezie felt around in her bag for the dope. After a moment, she retrieved a tampon case, extracted a joint and put it between her lips. Ricky laughed softly. “That’s where you keep your weed?” He smiled and added, “I’ve got matches.”
The flash when he lit one revealed bodies on the floor around the room. Some couples were making out, others were quietly talking. Big Ben sat gently strumming Harry’s 12-string. Ricky held the match and Eezie sat up, guiding his hand to the joint as she took a few puffs. She leaned back, passed it to him, and then coughed as she exhaled. Ricky took a long drag and then handed the reefer to Lanny who was stretched out beside a girl from their chemistry class.
“Watch,” Ricky said quietly, and then, pursing his lips, he puffed out a perfect smoke ring. It hovered in the half-light for an instant and then vanished
“Far out!” Eezie giggled. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“My stepdad. Only he does it with cigarettes.”
“Show me how.” She rolled over on her stomach and pressed up against him. “What do you do with your lips?” she whispered, propping herself up on elbows and leaning in close.
Ricky met her gaze. No, she wasn’t pretty, not really, but the way the light caught in her green eyes made her somehow beautiful. He felt his face flush.
“I … I can’t do it without something to smoke,” he managed to say. Then, without thinking, he kissed her. It was only a peck on the lips, but it startled Eezie. She pulled back, her eyes disappearing into the darkness. Then she laughed.
It was the ringing, easy laugh that was so much a part of her appeal.
“Oh, I get it,” she said, amused. She raised her head, looked around the darkened room, and then rested her gaze on Ricky. “Everybody else is, and here we are—you and me. So, I guess, why not?” She rolled on her back and pulled Ricky to her. This time, they shared a real kiss. And many more. She never learned to blow smoke rings.
The party broke up a little after 1 a.m. and Ricky assumed he’d drive Eezie home—he had borrowed his parents’ car for the evening. But she went off with Lanny while he was looking for his jacket. When he saw her at the mall the next day, she was as friendly as ever. But it was as though the party had never happened. That confused Ricky, but he was too shy to say anything. When she asked him to drive her to Brookline so she could visit a friend, he did so, and she slid over next to him on the car’s bench seat and had him put his arm around her, just like they were a real couple. The next day, though, she passed him in the hall at school without saying a word. He found himself sniffing his coat collar for traces of her patchouli scent and hoping to catch glimpses of her in the parking lot after class. Whenever the crew got together, she was often there, and Ricky made sure he was, too. But though she was affectionate and even flirtatious, Eezie continued to treat him as nothing more than a friend.
Ricky suddenly found himself carrying a torch for a girl he wouldn’t have even noticed just a few months earlier.
THE CAR ROLLED through the village of East Kingston and, at the light, Lanny turned left. Snow lay three or four inches deep on either side of the road, and a ribbon of dirty ice running down the center of the lane repeatedly caught the tires, jerking the Chevy whenever it strayed off the track. After a few miles, Lanny swung the car onto a snow-packed side road and slowly, bumping over ruts, drove into the woods. Around a bend and down a slippery incline, the car emerged into a clearing. Lanny pulled up to a great pile of dirt-streaked snow left by a plow, and shifted into park. He sat back, and then turned to his passengers and smiled with satisfaction.
“Well,” he pronounced. “Here we are.”
On one side of the clearing stood a shingled cabin, a small, single-story building raised up on flagstone columns that were girded by drifts of snow. Its windows were shuttered and steps leading up to a screened porch were partially buried in white. Icicles hung at irregular intervals from the eaves and mossy shingles showed in places where wind had blown snow off the roof. Though an ornate sign reading “WELCOME” hung on the screen door, the place looked abandoned.
“Groovy, man!” said Harry as he climbed out of the car. He surveyed the scene and then inhaled deeply. “Man, I love country air!”
Ricky slid out of the back seat and held the door for Eezie. She stood, dug a pair of mittens out of her shoulder bag and, squinting in the noon light, pulled them on. Ricky rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet. “Oh, man, pins and needles! I can’t feel my toes,” he said, smiling at her. A snow ball hit him in the back.
From the other side of the car, Big Ben hooted. He scooped up another handful of wet snow and lobbed it as Ricky dodged to one side.
“Hey, man, I thought you were a pacifist!” Ricky shouted. He held up two fingers. “Peace, brother, peace!” A second snowball struck him in the chest. As Ben skirted around the car with another clump of snow, Ricky retreated toward the trees. Eezie backed away, laughing. The boys squared off at the edge of the clearing, and then Ricky ducked behind a large maple. Big Ben circled.
“You can’t escape me, you hippy peacenik!” Ben growled in a high-pitched approximation of menace. As he stooped for more snow, Ricky emerged from behind the tree and sprinted back into the clearing. He stopped and whirled a few feet from where Eezie was standing by the front of the car. In his hand he held a glistening shaft—an icicle nearly two feet long that he’d broken off a low branch.
“Stand back, you war-monger! I shall save yon fair damsel with my crystalline saber!” he declared, striking a swordsman’s pose. A snowball the size of a grapefruit whizzed by his head. “For that, you shall pay!” he shouted, and with mock fury charged Big Ben, frozen sword thrust forward. It shattered against Ben’s chest as the two collided and together they fell into a drift.
“Alas! I am vanquished,” the bigger boy moaned, lying on his back. “I think I’m just gonna lie here for the rest of the afternoon and stare at the sky. It’s kinda relaxing, being dead.”
Laughing, Ricky rolled over and stood up. As he dusted himself off, he found the girl standing next to him.
“Oh, my hero!” Eezie cooed with comic gratitude. She smiled, her eyes bright. Then she closed them, pressed up against him and quickly kissed him on the cheek. Surprised, Ricky took a step back and blushed. A rush of pleasure mingled with confusion clouded his mind. Before he could speak, Eezie grabbed his red hands in her mittens. Their soft warmth felt inviting.
“But you must be freezing!” she said, suddenly concerned. “We should get inside the cabin and warm you up.” Then she turned to the recumbent figure on the snow. “You, too, Benny. You can’t lie there all afternoon, silly.”
Across the clearing, Harry was watching Lanny clear snow off the steps leading up to the porch’s screen door with an ice scraper from the car. The door itself was blocked by a crusty drift just inside the porch, and Lanny struggled to remove it by hacking at the snow through a hole in the screen.
“Man, it doesn’t look like anybody’s been here for a long time,” Harry said, sounding doubtful. Eezie, Big Ben and Ricky joined him at the bottom of the steps. They all watched their friend’s progress.
“No, no, I told you,” Lanny said between chops. “They close it up every year after the summer’s over. Nobody’s been here since then.” He forced the screen door back another few inches. “You’ll see, the place is really nice inside. Once I get this door open, we’re cool.”
“I don’t know about cool, but I know I’m definitely cold,” Ricky said, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them. He pulled up the collar on his pea coat. The four friends watched expectantly as Lanny pushed the door open a bit more. After a few more hacks, he stood and wedged himself through the opening. From inside the porch he turned and faced his companions. “OK, we’re cool,” he said with a satisfied smile.
The others climbed the steps and squeezed through the opening. Big Ben was last, and when he forced his way through the gap, the door frame gave an audible crack. “Oh, shit,” he squeaked, smiling sheepishly. They all crowded around Lanny who was on his knees, rummaging through the galvanized milk box adjacent to the cabin’s front door. He dug out several handfuls of leaves and shredded newspaper, tossing them aside with an air of disgust. “Mice!” he said.
“What are you looking for?” asked Eezie.
“The key,” Lanny replied, peering into the box. “My uncle always leaves a key in the milk box.” He tilted the box forward, feeling around in it with his free hand. “Anybody got a match? I can’t see anything.”
Ricky lit a match and leaned in over Lanny’s shoulder. “A little closer,” he said. “Yeah, OK, that’s good.” He squinted, and then muttered, “It’s gotta be in here.”
“Ow! Shit!” Ricky dropped the match and shook his hand. He stuck two fingers in his mouth. Lanny tipped the box on its side, upended it and then flipped it upright again. He felt through the pile of dirt and debris left behind. “Nothing.”
“Maybe under the doormat?” said Eezie hopefully.
“If only there was a doormat,” said Ben. Lanny stood and tried the door, confirming that it was locked. He then felt along the lintel above its frame. Again, nothing. “You guys see any flowerpots, or big rocks, anything you could hide a key under?” Lanny said, a hint of concern in his voice. The friends spread out across the porch, moving the ratty wicker chairs, tipping back a dusty settee and looking under anything that wasn’t nailed down. Still nothing.
“Maybe we could pry open one of the windows,” suggested Harry.
“I say we just break the glass on the door,” said Big Ben. “I’ll go get a rock—”
“No rocks, big man,” Lanny interrupted. “We’re not gonna bust any windows. Just give me a moment to figure this out. My uncle’s probably hid the key somewhere else. We just gotta …” His voice trailed off at the sound of a vehicle moving through the woods. The friends turned in the direction of the entrance road.
The sound became louder, and then a rusty orange pickup truck came into view, rounding the curve through the trees. It rumbled down the incline and out into the open, rolling slowly across the clearing and then stopping behind Lanny’s car. Its motor switched off, and in the sudden silence, the friends exchanged concerned looks. A loud creak brought their attention back to the clearing. The pickup’s driver-side door had swung open.
After a moment, out stepped a stout man dressed in stained brown coveralls, a blue denim barn coat and greasy work gloves. On his head he wore a plaid hunter’s cap with the flaps sticking out like wings. Behind one ear was a cigarette. The man glanced up at the cabin and then walked slowly around the dirt-streaked Chevy. Lanny pushed through the screen door and made his way carefully down the steps. As he walked across the clearing, the others followed at a distance.
The man stopped his inspection and watched Lanny come. When the teenager reached the car, he slowed up. The man looked him up and down, and then turned his gaze back to the decorated Impala.
“Holy sufferin’ blue Jesus,” he said. “What have we here?” He spoke with a thick Down East accent.
“This is my uncle’s place. We’re just visiting,” Lanny said, too fast. “It’s really OK if we’re here.” He looked from the man to the Chevy, and then added, “That’s my car.”
“Your car,” the man said. He squinted his eyes. “What’s that? Superman?” He was staring at the car’s hood.
“That? Uh, no, that’s Thor.”
“Thor. Oh, sure.” He pronounced it “shoe-ah.” “Somebody hit you?”
“Hit me—?” Lanny said, confused.
The man nodded toward the car door.
“Oh, that. That’s just a dent.”
“Uh-huh, Jack’s dent. Who’s Jack?”
“I, uh, nobody really. Just somebody –“
“What you say your name was, sonny?” The man spat and pulled off a glove. He retrieved the cigarette from behind his ear and looked at it.
“My name is Lanny—uh, Francis, actually. Francis Hall.” Lanny looked at the cigarette and then at the man. The man stuck the cigarette between his lips and then regarded Lanny.
“Well, Francis Hall, never heard of you.” He fetched a book of matches from his coat pocket. “Now, who you say is your uncle?”
“Alan Hall,” Lanny said. “He’s my dad’s brother. We used to come up here every summer.”
“That so? Every summer,” the man said. It sounded like “sum-mah.” He lit a match and held it before the cigarette. Lanny stared at it. “Well now, Francis, I don’t know any Alan Hall.”
“But he owns this place,” Lanny replied anxiously. “I’ve been here many times. Really!” He watched the match burn.
“I’m sure you have. Every summer, you say.” The man looked at the match. “But there’s new owners now. Bought the place last year.” He shook the match out. Lanny watched him toss it aside. “I’m the new caretaker.” His accent made it into “kayah-tay-kah.”
“New owners? But that can’t be right!” Lanny suddenly thought it probably was right. He had a vague memory of his dad talking about his uncle’s financial difficulties. He watched the man take the cigarette from his mouth and look at it.
“Oh, yes, it’s right, alright,” the man said. He stuck the cigarette back behind his ear. “I’m afraid you and your long-haired friends are goin’ to have to climb back into the dent-mobile and head back down to Boston or wherever it is you come from. This place is private property.” The man pulled his glove back on. “No trespassing, sonny. Get me?” His tone was suddenly threatening.
Lanny looked down. “Yeah, OK. I get you. I guess we’ll go.”
The man climbed back into the cab of the orange pickup. He yanked the door shut with another wrenching groan and then cranked the starter. When the motor caught, he backed the truck up and out of the way of the Impala. He sat there waiting.
Lanny turned and walked back to his friends. They had heard some of the conversation, and Eezie and Harry were frowning. Big Ben looked concerned. It was Ricky who spoke up first.
“What’s the deal, Lanny? That guy says we can’t stay here?” he asked. “But this is your family’s place, right? He can’t kick us out.”
“Sorry, guys, I guess he can,” Lanny replied. He gestured toward the Chevy. “We gotta go.”
“What? That’s not right! Screw him!” Ricky declared.
“Yeah, we got a right to be here,” said Big Ben. “Isn’t that so, Lanny?”
“No, man, he’s the new caretaker and he says we have to leave,” Lanny said quietly. “I think he really means it.”
“Means it? What bullshit!” Ricky said, getting angry. “We made the trip all the way here, and now we have to go? No way –”
“No, no, I think we better go,” said Eezie. She was watching the pickup truck. “I think Lanny’s right, Ricky.” She turned and gave him a meaningful look.
Ricky frowned. He looked from Harry to Big Ben, and then back to Eezie. “Shit!” he muttered. Then, “OK, let’s go. Jesus!”
The five friends piled into the Chevy under the watchful eye of the caretaker. Lanny backed the car around into the snow and got stuck as he tried to turn back into the plowed area. A few tense moments of rocking the Impala succeeded in freeing the old car and it crossed the clearing, skidded up the incline and disappeared into the woods. The orange pickup did not follow.
“There’s a gas station up at the intersection,” Lanny said when they reached the main road. “Let’s stop there and get something to eat. I need to get gas, too.” When nobody said anything, Lanny quietly added, “Hey, you guys. I’m really sorry about this.”
From the back seat, Ben spoke up, his voice pitched even higher than usual, “Hey, fuck it, man! We’re having an adventure in the country!” And after a moment, the friends all laughed.
“I THINK I CAN finally feel my toes,” Ricky said. He was standing next to a hissing radiator in the Esso station’s office, his wet boots steaming. Harry and Big Ben dropped change into the shop’s vending machine while Eezie sipped a Pepsi from the cooler in the corner. She turned to Ricky.
“Yeah, it’s nice in here. I didn’t realize how cold I was,” she said. She took another sip, and then held the soda out to Ricky. “Want some?”
“Hey, yeah. Thanks,” he replied, taking the bottle. He took a swig and then passed it back. Through the big plate glass window he watched Lanny pay the kid who had pumped gas into the Chevy. Then he looked back at Eezie.“I can’t believe that guy,” he said, still annoyed about the caretaker. “He was such an asshole!”
The girl shrugged. “I guess,” she said. She seemed unconvinced.
“He didn’t have to treat us like that,” Ricky said, pressing the point. “I mean, we weren’t doing anything.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t know us.” Eezie retrieved a pack of Marlboros from her bag. “Here, hold this. Finish it if you want.” She passed the bottle back to Ricky and then dug out a lighter. “The man was just doing his job.”
Ricky chugged the last of the Pepsi and dropped the bottle into a case of empties next to the cooler. “Yeah, doing his job. Hassling ‘hippies.’ That ‘love it or leave it’ shit.”
“Oh, Richard, don’t be so paranoid,” Eezie said, suddenly serious. She lit her cigarette, and then looked at him. “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”
Ricky caught her change in tone. “I wasn’t judging. I mean, it was obvious the guy was a Moral Majority prick. A ‘Nixon’s the One’ guy!”
“Maybe to you. But sometimes people are just people.” She took a drag and, exhaling a plume of smoke, gave her friend a cool look. Then, holding the cigarette in one hand, she turned and opened the office door with the other. A brace of cold air hit Ricky as she stepped outside. As the door slowly closed with a pneumatic hiss, he watched her cross the asphalt and skirt around the pumps. She said something to Lanny and then got into the car.
Harry stepped over to Ricky and held out a Hershey bar. “You want a piece of this, man? Good American health food!” The cooler clunked behind them as Big Ben inserted the coin tray and a bottle dropped down. He pulled out an orange Crush, popped the cap and took a long drink.
“What? No, man, thanks,” Ricky said, distracted. The door opened and the kid came in, bringing another rush of cold air. He looked at the friends and nodded, and then went around the counter and punched the cash register. The machine’s drawer popped open and he inserted Lanny’s bills, separating them by denomination, and then dropped a handful of change into the coin tray. He pushed the drawer closed and glanced around. He looked to be about fourteen.
“You guys need anything else?” he said, unbuttoning his coat.
“No,” said Ricky. He grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. But then he turned back and looked at the kid. “Yeah. Yeah. Maybe we do need something.” He stepped over to the counter. The kid smiled expectantly. “We hear this is a pretty hip little town, you know, full of people who are just people. You know where we can score some good shit?”
The kid looked confused. “Good … what?”
“You know. Good shit. Weed, reefer. Merry-wanna. You got any stone dealers around here?” Ricky smiled solicitously. He lowered his voice and leaned in. “We got bread, man! You dig?”
Harry and Big Ben exchanged looks. The kid pushed his knit cap back and shrugged.
“I … I don’t know. I don’t know any … dealers.”
“Ricky, cut it out,” said Harry. He shrugged at the kid. “Don’t pay any attention to him, man. He’s just bullshitting you.”
“No, no, we got serious bread,” Ricky insisted, standing his ground as Harry tried to shove him out the door. “We … we wanna buy a couple a kilos!”
“Oh, man—shut up!” Ben said, stifling a laugh. “Out you go!” He grabbed Ricky by the collar as Harry held the door.
“Kilos, we want kilos!” Ricky shouted as Ben dragged him backwards into the cold air. Harry managed to pull the door closed. He waved to the kid through the glass. The kid stared, and then waved back.
As the car pulled out of the gas station, Eezie said, “What was that all about?” She looked at Ricky. “Were you yelling at that boy?”
“Yeah, Rick, tell us, man, what was that?” Ben leaned forward in the back seat, peering at his friend around Eezie. “You were messing with him. How come?”
“He told that kid we wanted to buy some dope. He asked him where we could find a stone dealer,” Harry explained from the front seat. He reached over and poked Ricky. “Man, you’re gonna get us busted.” He laughed.
“Why would you do that, Ricky? Why would you tease him like that?” Eezie said. There was that tone again.
Ricky said nothing, and then shrugged. “I don’t know. It was funny. I just felt like it.”
“It wasn’t funny, and it wasn’t very nice of you. You could get us in trouble.” She folded her arms and stared straight ahead. Ricky watched the passing landscape out the window.
“Well,” said Lanny. “Since we’re such dope fiends, let’s go over to the lake on the other side of town and smoke a few jays. There’s a nice little park there that’s perfect for toking up.”
SEVERAL MILES PAST the light on the main road was a small parking area adjacent to a public lake. Lanny signaled a left and turned into the lot, passing between the split rail fences that flanked the entrance. There were no cars other than a snow-covered utility van that took up a space in the lot’s far corner. It bore a faded “Town of East Kingston” logo and had obviously been there a while. Behind it, next to a covered pavilion cluttered with stacked picnic tables, was a large sign that read “Stonemann Lake Park.” Underneath that, in smaller lettering, was the admonition “Park Closes 7 p.m., Police Take Notice.”
Lanny parked the car in a space close to the pavilion and the friends climbed out. After buttoning up against the cold, they passed through the park gateway and followed a footpath in the snow down to the lake’s edge. Stonemann Lake appeared to be completely iced over, frozen all the way across to the opposite shore where a few bungalows were visible among the trees. A large area fronted by several benches had been swept clean of snow, its surface crisscrossed with scoring from numerous skaters. Lanny suddenly sprinted out onto the ice and skidded gracefully across the clearing.
“Man, I should have brought my skates!” he said, laughing. “Check this out!” He skidded back, executing a comic pirouette.
“Lanny, man, you’re gonna fall through!” Ricky said, laughing. “Be careful!”
Big Ben was next, sliding unsteadily in his penny-loafers for a few feet before landing squarely on his backside. “Whoop!” he squawked. Then, “I’m good!”
“If that doesn’t prove the ice is solid, nothing will!” said Harry, stepping into the clearing. They all laughed as Lanny slid over and took Eezie by the mittens, leading her out onto the ice. He pulled her along, sliding easily backwards as she giggled and struggled to stay upright. Ricky followed cautiously, still not convinced the surface would support them all. But for twenty minutes, the friends cavorted around the lake’s impromptu skating rink, shushing across its expanse with finesse and then colliding and collapsing into a pile, all in good-natured fun. The ice withstood the onslaught.
“Oh, man, that was cool!” said Harry as he breathlessly slid over to one of the benches. “But I gotta sit down.” He was followed by Ben and Eezie, and they all sat together, watching Lanny and Ricky take a few final passes. They too then coasted over to the benches and join the others. After a few moments, Harry produced a couple of joints.
“Friends, I think the only thing that can improve on this afternoon’s festivities is a bit of mind expansion,” he said, holding out one of the reefers to Eezie. Making a grand bow, he said, “Mademoiselle, will you do the honors?”Eezie took the joint, put it to her lips and inhaled as Ricky held a match. She took a deep pull and then passed it over to him. Ricky took a drag and, choking back a cough, gave the joint to Big Ben. So it went, the friends taking turns up and down the bench until Harry finished off the roach, holding it in a clip that hung like a pendant around his neck.
“Round two?” he said after he’d dispatched the butt. He looked at his friends, the bemused smile on his face a subtle indication of his elevated state. He held up the second joint.
“Oh, no, man. I’m good,” said Ricky. “More than good!” He giggled. Eezie also demurred, but Lanny and Ben were game, so Ricky handed over his matches. He stood up, looked at his friends and giggled again. “Dig it!” he murmured. “Here we are at Stonemann Lake, getting stoned, man!” Everyone groaned, and Ricky retreated up the hill toward the pavilion under a hail of mock insults. A few minutes later, Eezie joined him. They sat together at one of the picnic tables, staring out at the lake.
“Wow, I’m buzzed,” Ricky said. He could see lights coming on in the bungalows across the way. “Trust Harry to always have some primo weed.”
“Yeah,” said Eezie vaguely. Then she turned and looked at him. “I hope it’s improved your mood.”
“My mood …? What’s wrong with my mood?”
“Those things you said about the caretaker. And the way you teased that boy at the gas station.”
Ricky frowned, and then looked down. “Yeah, OK,” he conceded. “I guess I was in a bad mood. That wasn’t nice, what I did to that kid. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. He could see people moving about near one of the bungalows across the way. They seemed to be doing something down by the lakefront. “It’s just that my feet were cold and we couldn’t stay at Lanny’s to get warm. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Was he just imagining the people on the opposite shore?
“I hate when people are judgmental,” Eezie said quietly. She kicked the snow. “It makes me not want to be friends with you.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right—I hate people who judge other people, too. I mean, that’s really a drag. I don’t want to be like that.” Ricky leaned in close, feeling a sudden blush of affection. He rested a hand on Eezie’s knee. “But we are friends, aren’t we? I mean—aren’t we more than friends?” Even as he said it, he knew he’d made a mistake.
“What do you mean?” said Eezie, looking hard at him. “More than friends? More than friends how?” She sounded indignant.
“I, uh …” Ricky tried to collect his thoughts, tried to reconcile the rush of feelings for Eezie with the embarrassment that now tongue-tied him. But after Harry’s dope, he was too high to rescue the moment. He simply shrugged.
It was then that a rumble sounded from across the lake. Eezie and Ricky looked toward the far shore. Lanny, Harry and Big Ben, huddling together on the bench down by the ice, looked up as well.
The noise grew louder, more insistent. Was that a motor? After a moment, it was joined by a second rumble, and then two new lights appeared on the opposite shore. They were stationary for a moment as the motors thrummed, revving intermittently. But then the friends could see the lights—headlights—move slowly away from the bungalows and out onto the lake. In an instant, the motor sounds became shrill, an angry gas-fueled chorus that rent the frigid silence of the grey afternoon.
It was two snowmobiles. Two snowmobiles that were now speeding across the lake toward them.
Though it was hard to tell from where he sat, it seemed to Ricky that the vehicles were racing each other. One was clearly leading, its headlight bobbing as it flew through drifts of snow, leaving a powdery slipstream in its wake. But the other was close by, weaving first left and then right, looking for an opportunity to pass. Though the lake was nearly a half mile across, the machines were covering the distance rapidly. As they approached, Ricky could see just how fast they were going. He could also make out the driver in the lead snowmobile. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and he seemed to be heading right for the friends.
“Hey, hey you guys!” Ricky shouted at Lanny, Harry and Big Ben. “Those idiots are coming right at you! You better move!”
The headlights grew brighter and the motor whine reached a crescendo as the snowmobiles bore down. The three friends were up and scrambling over the snow toward the pavilion as the first vehicle burst into the cleared area and flew over the ice. It crested the snow at the lake’s edge as Harry and Lanny, with Ben right behind, joined Eezie and Ricky at the picnic tables. The second machine entered the cleared area just as the first roared up the hill and, with breathtaking precision, shot through the narrow park gateway and out onto the icy asphalt of the parking lot. It spun around, sparks flying, as the second machine slowed and then eased its way through the gate. The man on the lead snowmobile switched off his motor and stood up. He leered as his partner removed his snow-dusted helmet.
“Forrey, you chickenshit! What’d you slow down for? Scared to shoot the gate?” he barked. Then he snorted. “I had your raggedy ass all the way across—again!” He dusted snow off his olive drab parka. It had a “U.S. Army” patch over one pocket.
“Fuck you, dude. You wouldn’t let me get by—again. And I’m not wreckin’ my machine on some jackass stunt,” Forrey grumbled. He revved his snowmobile for emphasis. “I’ll get you on the way back!”
“Yeah, whatever,” said the man in the parka. “You gonna sit there all afternoon makin’ up excuses, or are you gonna go get us that beer?” He snorted again.
Forrey put his helmet back on, throttled up his snowmobile and, flipping his friend a middle finger, rumbled across the lot and out to the main road. He made a hard right and, with a roar, he took off toward town along the snow-covered shoulder. He disappeared around a curve behind the trees, the gradually diminishing whine of his snowmobile marking his progress.
“Chickenshit,” muttered the parka man. He climbed off his machine and sauntered across the lot toward the pavilion. “Hey!” he shouted gruffly. “You kids. It’s OK to come out now.”
The five friends slowly stepped away from the pavilion. Ricky was the first to speak.
“Hey, man, that was really uncool,” he said, clearly angry. “Really uncool. You could have hit my friends.”
The man looked to be about 35. His hair, inky black, was brushed back in a halfhearted attempt at a pompadour, but more than a few loose strands hung down over one eye. His skin was weathered and pocked, and he needed a shave. But he moved with the casual insouciance of a man used to being in charge. He ignored Ricky.
“Say, have I seen you kids around here before? Where you from? That your ride over there?” He nodded toward the Impala. “Nice paint job!”
“Yeah, that’s my car,” said Lanny. “Uh, thanks. About the paint job, I mean.”
“Did that yourselves, did you?” The man smiled at Lanny and then shifted his gaze to Ben. “Where you from, big fella?”
“Not from around here. We’re from Peabody,” the big boy said warily. He added, “Massachusetts.”
“Shit, man! Somebody got you by the balls? Where’d you get a squeaky little voice like that?” the man replied, breaking into a hard laugh. “Never mind—I’m just jerkin’ you around. Peabody, huh? That’s down the road a bit. Come up for a little R ’n’ R?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “We just came up for the day. Kinda like a day trip.”
The man looked Harry over. “A day trip, huh? Spend the afternoon hanging out in the park? Nice. But you got wicked long hair, brother. You kids hippies?”
“Listen, man, we weren’t bothering anybody,” Ricky said, interrupting. He took a step forward. “It says the park’s open until seven, so we’re allowed to be here. But you and your friend nearly ran us down!”
The parka man regarded Ricky. “Is this guy with you?” he said, turning to Eezie. “What’s his problem? Don’t he like to have a little fun?”
“He’s my friend,” Eezie said. “We’re all friends.”
“Well, that’s exactly right. We’re all friends. Peace and love, right friend?” The parka man flashed the peace sign at Ricky. He turned back to Eezie. “Say, Blondie—that your name?—you’re a cute button. Ever been on a snowmobile?”
Eezie blushed and laughed her bright laugh. She looked at the boys, and then back at the man. “No. I’ve never been on a snowmobile. But my name’s Louise.”
“Louise? No way. You’re Blondie.” The parka man took Eezie by the arm. “C’mon, what say we go for a ride?” He jerked his head toward his machine.
“No, no, you’ll go too fast,” Eezie said coyly. She pulled her arm back.
“Hey, man, leave her alone!” Ricky said, tensing.
“Relax, friend,” the parka man replied. His voice was thick. “This ain’t no business of yours.”
“But she doesn’t want to go with you!” Ricky said, speaking loudly. “She said she doesn’t—”
“No, I didn’t,” Eezie said, stepping in between them. She looked at Ricky. “I just said he’d go too fast.”
“That’s right. That’s what she said, friend.” The parka man caught Eezie by the arm again, his tone softening. “Don’t you worry, Blondie. I won’t go too fast. And you can use my helmet.” He glared at Ricky and then turned back to Eezie. “We’ll just take a trip across the lake and back. Won’t be gone more than fifteen minutes. Twenty tops.” He winked. “You’re gonna love it.”
Eezie blushed. “OK,” she replied, now excited. “OK, yeah, it sounds like fun.”
Ricky frowned. “Eezie, you sure?” he said quietly, catching her other arm. “I mean, we don’t know this guy—”
“Cool it, friend. You heard the lady,” said the parka man, gently pulling Eezie toward the snowmobile.
“It’s alright, Ricky. Really,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. “I’m just going for a ride.”
“No harm, no foul, right Blondie?” The parka man unstrapped a helmet from the back of the machine and held it out to her. “Here, put this on. Safety first!” He looked at Ricky. “Ain’t that right, friend?”
Ricky said nothing. The four boys watched as Eezie pulled the helmet on and clipped its chin strap. The parka man helped her onto the back of the snowmobile and then straddled the machine himself. He keyed the ignition, and the snowmobile’s engine sputtered and then caught, blowing out twin plumes of sooty exhaust. The parka man revved the throttle and then, using his free hand, wrapped the girl’s arms tightly around his waist. Though he couldn’t hear, Ricky could see that when he looked back over his shoulder at Eezie, the man said, “Ready?”
The sound of the snowmobile suddenly became deafening. Harry covered his ears. The machine jerked forward, scraping over the dry pavement, and then lurched onto the snow. Eezie’s helmeted head bobbed as the man positioned the snowmobile before the gateway. He turned and leered at the boys, giving Ricky a triumphant smirk just as he twisted the throttle. The snowmobile roared and, sending up a scattershot of ice and snow, slipped through the gateway and sluiced down the bank. It barreled out onto the ice and was gone, leaving behind a cloud of frosty white dust.
The boys jogged down to the lake’s edge and watched as the snowmobile sped across the frozen lake, receding as quickly as it had arrived.
“Far out!” said Big Ben. He giggled.
“Man, that guy is going fast,” said Lanny. “Looks like it, anyway.” He giggled, too.
“Hope Eezie’s holding on tight!” Harry held his hands out, gripping imaginary handle bars. “That thing was so loud! Brrrum, brrrum!” He twisted the invisible snowmobile’s grips. The others laughed.
Ricky looked at his friends and shook his head. “Guys, we shouldn’t have let her go,” he said.
“Why? Why not? They’re just going across the lake. That dude looked like he knew what he was doing,” said Harry. “You’re just paranoid, Rick, old boy.”
“He’s just jealous, is what,” said Lanny, laughing.
“You’re all stoned, is what,” Ricky replied, annoyed. “I’m telling you, that guy looks like trouble. That ‘friend’ shit. We shouldn’t have let her go.”
“Yeah, like we could stop Eezie from doing anything,” said Harry. “Really, Ricky, man, relax. She’s fine.”
“I know I’m definitely fine,” said Big Ben. “Super fine! Wish I’d brought my guitar.”
“You’d freeze your fingers out here, dude!” laughed Lanny. “It’s too friggin’ cold to play.”
“Is it? I’m too toasted to tell. But maybe we should make a fire?”
WHILE HIS FRIENDS scavenged for dry firewood, Ricky wandered around to the back of the pavilion. One side of the rustic building was taken up by a concession window, covered over for the winter by a sheet of weathered plywood. Next to it was a sign listing hot dogs, French fries, various sodas and other summery fare with smeary prices chalked below each entry. Someone had drawn a skull and crossbones over the “Sausage & Peppers” choice. Ricky suddenly realized that he was hungry.
But he was too preoccupied to care.
Why would Eezie go off with that asshole? It was obvious he was a macho dork, a bully even. Couldn’t she see that? And why did she react that way when he said he thought they were more than friends. Weren’t they more than friends? Did that night at Harry’s mean nothing to her? It certainly meant something to him. Did she even like him? Ricky pulled up the collar of his pea coat and leaned against the pavilion wall. He watched a car pass on the main road beyond the parking lot.
Why did he feel like this? All needy and confused. Such bullshit! Why did he even care? He hated being vulnerable, hated letting his friends see him this way. Eezie—Louise—was just some girl, one among many, nobody special. She wasn’t even pretty, not really. Why did he even like her? Did he even like her?
“What the fuck,” Ricky muttered. He cupped his hands and blew into them. Shoving them into his coat pockets, he walked around to the front of the building and sat at one of the picnic tables. He could see his friends laughing as they struggled to light a stack of twigs in one of the park’s barbecue grills.
Well, OK. He did like her. He liked her because she was smart and funny. He liked her laugh and her odd, heavily-outlined Egyptian eyes. He liked the way she smelled. He liked kissing her—he especially liked that. And, he suddenly realized, he liked her because she seemed to like him.
So, was that wrong? So what if it turned out she didn’t feel the same about him. He could enjoy her for their friendship. They could hang out, joke around, do things together. She might like him no better than she did Lanny, Harry or Ben, but she did like him. That might be enough.
“Yeah, right,” Ricky said to himself. He broke a small icicle off the end of the table and stuck it in his mouth. It tasted metallic, rusty. Across the way, Lanny was blowing on the fire while Ben and Harry dodged smoke. Flames suddenly appeared over the top of the grill. Ricky sat up.
“Hey! Guys!” he shouted.
“C’mon over, Rick. Get warm by the fire!” said Big Ben. He cupped his hands over the flames as Harry broke a few additional sticks and added them to the pile. Ricky jogged over.
“Guys, it’s been more than fifteen minutes!” he said anxiously.
“We got it going as quickly as we could,” Harry said. “No help from you.”
“No, no—it’s been fifteen minutes. More! You hear a snowmobile?” Ricky pointed toward the lake. “Where’s Eezie?”
The boys turned and squinted toward the opposite shore. It was starting to get dark, and the lights in the bungalows were clearly visible now. But there was no sign of a headlight. After a moment, Harry shrugged.
“The guy’s probably just gassing up. She’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know, man. I don’t like it,” Ricky said, shaking his head. “That guy, I don’t trust him.”
“Be cool, dude. She’s fine,” said Harry, turning back to the fire. The light from the flames flickered over his red hair.
“He was kind of a drag, but Eezie can handle herself,” said Lanny.
“She can handle herself, sure. But with a guy like that? Are you kidding me?” Ricky declared. “The guy’s probably just back from Vietnam or something. You saw his coat, right?”
“What’s that got to do with it?” said Harry testily. “Really, man, it’s no big deal. He’ll bring her back soon. Wait and see.”
“Yeah, Ricky, really, it’s probably OK,” said Ben quietly. “She’s fine.”
“Maybe, Benny. But what if she’s not? With the four of us standing around on the other side of the lake? Like a bunch of clueless dickwads?”
“Man, you’re being a drag. More than usual!” said Harry, annoyed. “What is it with you and Eezie? You don’t own her, man!”
“Fuck you, Harry!” Ricky turned and stalked down to the lake’s edge. The afternoon light was fading quickly.
“That guy, sometimes I think he’s too damn serious,” said Harry to his friends. “If he wants to get anywhere with Eezie, he’d better lighten up.” He chuckled, and the others smiled in agreement.
Lanny picked up a few sticks and broke them over his knee. He added them to the fire and then blew into the flames, sending them higher. “I tell you what, though. Eezie better be back soon,” he said. “It’s getting dark, and we should probably be heading home. Let’s burn the rest of this wood, and then we should put out the fire.” He grabbed a branch and began breaking off its smaller limbs, adding those to the fire. It quickly brightened, casting its light over the three friends and sending up sparks. Lanny backed away and put his knee to the branch. He pulled back on both ends, groaning with the effort. The limb refused to yield at first, but then suddenly gave way, splitting with a loud crack. Lanny jerked back.
From across the lake came another crack. Much louder. Loud enough to echo off the surrounding hills. As the reverberations faded, the three friends looked at each other and then turned toward the lake.
“Did you hear that?” Harry whispered. “What the fuck was that?”
Ricky came running up the path. He sprinted over to the pavilion and climbed up on one of the picnic tables. Shielding his eyes from the firelight, he stared hard toward the opposite shore. “Was that a gunshot?” he shouted in the gathering gloom.
“Lanny was just breaking sticks,” said Ben vaguely. “For the fire.”
“No, man,” said Lanny emphatically. “That was definitely no stick.”
Ricky clamored down off the table and jogged over to his friends. “I think that was a gunshot! But I can’t see anything over there. Too dark. I told you that guy was trouble! We’d better—”
Another crack split the night air. It echoed, and then was followed in quick succession by a half dozen additional cracks. Sound rebounding off the surrounding hills crisscrossed the frozen lake in a confusing cacophony of thunderous claps. It rolled back and forth, and then quickly faded. It was suddenly silent.
“Jesus Christ!”
Ricky scooped a handful of snow and threw it on the fire. It hissed, sending up a cloud of steam. “Put that fucking thing out! Somebody’s shooting over there. Shit!”
The three boys grabbed snow and heaped it into the grill, dousing the flames. “What should we do, Rick?” asked Big Ben, his voice low for once.
“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know!” Ricky said as he paced before the steaming grill. “Whatever’s going on over there, we gotta help Eezie. She could be hurt!” He faced his friends and pointed to the other side of the lake. “We could run there. It’s not that far!”
“And what, get shot? Not a plan, man,” said Harry. “No, I say we wait and see what happens.”
“Wait? I’m not gonna wait, Harry! She may need our help!”
“Yeah, but Rick, we don’t know what’s going on,” said Lanny. “We could just make things worse.”
Ricky shook his head. “I can’t believe you guys. Eezie’s probably in trouble. She needs our help. She was supposed to be back here twenty minutes ago, and now they’re shooting over there, that guy from Vietnam and who knows who else. You want to wait? Go ahead. But I’m gonna do something.”
“We could go for the cops,” Ben quietly suggested.
Ricky regarded Big Ben and then turned to Lanny. “Shit, man. Give me the keys to the car.”
“What?” said Lanny. “Ricky, no.”
“Yes, man. I’m gonna go back to that gas station and call the cops. Now, give me the keys.”
“You can’t do that, Rick. What about the dope?” said Harry, truly alarmed. “You’ll get us all busted!”
“So stash the dope somewhere. Or dump it. Whatever! It’s Eezie I care about, man, not your fucking weed!” Ricky stamped his foot in disgust. “The keys, Lanny.” He held out a hand.
“All right, OK, but let me drive,” he said. “I gotta clean the car out first.”
“No time! I’ll do it on the way. Let’s go. Now!”
The boys started up the path to the parking lot. Lights at the park entrance had just come on, and a few flurries drifted beneath them. It was starting to snow. Ricky reached the car first. He jerked open the passenger side door and slid in as Lanny rounded to the driver’s side and, using his coat sleeve, attempted to brush a dusting of snow off the windshield. From the pathway, Big Ben suddenly called out.
“Ricky! Hey, Rick!”
“Hurry up, Lanny! Use the wipers for that. Let’s go!” Ricky shouted out the car window. Lanny shrugged, dusted off his sleeve and climbed in. He stuck the key in the ignition.
“Guys! Wait!” Ben jogged into the parking lot, followed by Harry.
“Not now, Ben,” Ricky said as he began rolling the window up. “We gotta go!”
“No, no, stop!” Ben shouted as he reached the car. “Look, man, look!” He pointed toward the lake.
Ricky cranked down the window. In the twilight, he could still make out the cabins on the opposite shore. Their lights flickered in the fine snow, now falling more steadily. What he could also see was another light, a single light—a headlight. And then he heard the distant whine of a snowmobile. His friends heard it, too.
“Yes!” Harry shouted, clapping his gloved hands together. He gave Ben a thumbs up, and then darted through the gate and headed down the path. Big Ben rested a hand on the roof of the car and leaned down to the half-opened window. “You see, Ricky? Everything’s OK. Here she comes,” he said gently.
Ricky pushed the door open, forcing his friend out of the way. He said nothing as he climbed out of the car and sprinted across the lot. Ben bumped the door closed with his hip and followed.
“Far out!” Lanny said as he watched the two boys head toward the lakefront through a swirl of flurries. He yanked the key from the ignition, reached over and rolled up Ricky’s window, and then got out. By the time he had joined the others at the lake’s edge, the snowmobile’s headlight was plainly visible, the sound of the machine much louder. “That was a close one, guys,” Lanny said. “No need for cops now! Here comes Eezie, back to safety with her hippie friends.” He chuckled.
“You see, Rick, I told you there was nothing to worry about,” said Harry triumphantly. He waved at the approaching vehicle.
“Those gun shots freaked me out, I gotta say,” Ben said. “But she’s fine. She’s OK.”
“We don’t know that,” Ricky said quietly.
“Oh, come off it, Rick! I can see her. She’s cool,” Harry said impatiently. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hey, Eezie, Eeee-zie!” He waved again.
The snowmobile was closing fast, and Ricky could make out the parka man through falling snow, his hood up and goggles covering his eyes. The person riding behind him was hidden from view, but as the machine jostled over snow ridges, Ricky caught flashes of silvery yellow, visible even in the failing light. It was Eezie’s blonde hair.
As the snowmobile approached the cleared section, the friends moved back. With a final burst of speed, it roared into the skating area and skittered across the ice, creating a cloudy pathway through the collected dusting of snow. At the last moment, the parka man steered hard right and braked, causing the heavy machine to slide sideways across the remaining ice and up onto the path, coming to a full stop just short of the boys. One of its skis knocked over a bench.
The parka man pushed back his hood, pulled up his goggles and smiled. From behind him came wild laughter. Bright, ringing laughter as Eezie stood up and pulled off her helmet. Her face was flushed, her eyes shining.
“Oh … my … God!” She struggled to catch her breath. “I loved that! Jimmy—that was so cool! Even better than the first time!”
“Oh, yeah, Blondie,” Jimmy said smugly, smiling up at her. “The second time’s always better.” He revved the throttle and pulled the goggles back down over his eyes. Eezie stepped off the machine, walked around the toppled bench and joined the boys on the path.
“Hey, Blondie! Whenever you make your next day trip, don’t forget me! Come for a visit anytime,” he shouted over the rumble of the motor. As he shifted the snowmobile into gear, he saluted with two fingers and barked, “So long, friends!”
The machine bucked as it swung around, its treads scoring the snowy ice as it reversed direction. Once in position, Jimmy yanked up his hood, hunched over and opened the throttle. The snowmobile hesitated and then roared, leaving behind a spray of icy grit and a smudge of oily exhaust. In a few moments, it was out past the skating area and gone in a swirl of drifting snow, disappearing into the evening darkness. As its whine faded, the boys crowded around Eezie.
“Oh, guys,” she said. “I’m really sorry I’m late. But we had so much fun!”
“Eezie,” Ricky said, putting a hand on her arm. “What happened? What the hell happened?”
“What do you mean?” She pulled her arm back.
“We heard gunshots,” Big Ben said. “Was somebody shooting over there?”
“Oh, that,” Eezie said. She laughed. “Jimmy let me shoot his gun.”
“That was you?” Ricky said. “You were shooting?”
“I never shot a gun before, and he had his pistol from when he was in the army. Yeah, that was me.” She beamed. “Really loud, but really cool!”
“Hah! I knew it,” Harry said, turning to Ricky. “You see, dude, no big deal.”
“What? What big deal?” said Eezie, confused. She looked from Harry to Ricky.
“Rick thought you’d been shot,” said Harry with a smirk. “He was gonna go get the cops.”
“What! I’d been shot?” Eezie said, astonished. “That’s … that’s crazy!” She turned to Ricky. “Richard, is that true?”
“I didn’t know … you hadn’t come back and …” Ricky paused, flustered. He gestured apologetically. “I … I was worried.”
“Worried? Worried about what?”
“About that guy. That he might have hurt you or … I don’t know.”
“Oh, my god! That guy—his name is Jimmy—he’s a very nice guy,” she said hotly. She glared at Ricky. “I knew right from the start you didn’t like him. Were you really going to call the police? Really?”
“I had the key in the ignition,” said Lanny. “Ricky said we had to go get the cops. We were gonna call them from the Esso station.”
“I didn’t know what to do,” Ricky said defensively. “I just wanted to help. In case you were in trouble.”
“The only trouble I would have been in is if you’d brought the East Kingston police down on us. On poor Jimmy!” Eezie took a breath, her eyes red, becoming teary. “Oh, I would have been so embarrassed!” She shook her head. “I thought you were my friend!”
Ricky shuffled his feet. “I … I am your friend,” he said quietly.
“Well, you don’t act like it!”
“It’s OK, Eezie,” said Big Ben, trying to make amends. “You got back just in time, so everything’s fine. We’re all just glad to see you.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Lanny. “But we really should get going. It looks like this snow is going to keep up, and we’ve got a two-hour ride back to Peabody.”
EEZIE SAT IN FRONT with Lanny on the ride home. The snow turned to a gentle rain by the time the friends reached I-95, and traffic was light once they passed the Worcester extension. No one said much during the trip, and Ben was soon asleep in the back seat. When they were in range, Lanny turned on the radio and tuned in WMEX, filling the silence with a string of hits by the Jackson 5, Simon and Garfunkel, the Guess Who and Stevie Wonder.
Ricky slumped against the door in the back seat. With Harry in the middle, space was tight, but Ricky took little notice. He was too preoccupied with what had happened at the park in East Kingston.
Had he been wrong? Why had he assumed the worst about the parka man, this guy Jimmy? The others had been much less concerned, even when they heard the shooting. Had he been playing the hero solely to prove he was right about the guy being an asshole? Was he just trying to impress Eezie?
He knew deep down that she hadn’t treated him fairly in the way she reacted to his decision to go for the police. As it turned out, that would have been a mistake. But he couldn’t have known that at the time. What if she’d actually been hurt? It was the right thing to do, and she had to know that. But then, why did she react so strongly? Like he’d done something really bad? Like he wasn’t her friend.
Ricky wiggled his toes in his boots. They were numb again. Then he had a realization.
He wasn’t Eezie’s friend.
Not really. He liked her, he was infatuated with her, he wanted to be with her. Those things were all true. But they weren’t about her. They were all about him. And what he wanted. Friendship had nothing to do with it. Ricky suddenly understood that Eezie sensed that about him. How could she not? Her anger over his decision to call the cops had really been anger at his desire that she conform to his needs to the exclusion of her own. The thought overwhelmed him. He felt a burden lift, and with it the tether of his expectations.
“Hey, Lanny, OK to drop me off first? My feet are freezing,” he suddenly said.
“Man, are you ever not cold?” Lanny replied over the music. “OK, you’re first. Ben, I’ll drop you next. Harry, is he awake?”
“Huh, what?” mumbled Big Ben as Harry conveyed the message. “OK, Lanny, cool.” The big boy leaned back and closed his eyes again.
The car took the Andover Street exit in Peabody and drove up past the Liberty Tree Mall toward Danvers. At Holton Street, Ricky said, “Take a left here, Lanny. I’m the third house on the next block, remember?”
Lanny swung the Impala into the driveway at Ricky’s house and shifted into park. He turned and peered over the back seat. “OK, Rick. Go get warm.”
“Thanks, man,” Ricky said, opening the door. “Guys, today was a real adventure. A country adventure. Right, friends?” He exaggerated the word and laughed, and after a moment Lanny and Harry joined in. Then he got out, closed the door and, as the car shifted into reverse, rapped on Eezie’s window. Surprised, she looked up at him, and then rolled it down halfway. Ricky leaned over.
“Hey, Eezie,” he said softly. “I guess I’m really not your hero, and you’re not my fair damsel. I get it. But if it’s OK with you, I’d like to be your friend.” He stood up, stepped back from the car and watched as it rolled down the driveway. As the Chevy swung back into the street, he waved, and as it pulled away, Ricky was almost certain he saw his friend with the champagne blonde hair wave back.