Fanfic: Metamorphosis - Ch 1 (WIP) Kyle Lewis (of Kish), Pre-College, rated R
Story Title: Metamorphosis
Author's Name: bertiebwriting (aka closetofheroes)
Rating: R
Warnings: No Oliver. Maybe some violence and sexual situations in later chapters.
Summary: Kyle Lewis in high school.
Chapter One - The Phone Call
They had always disliked Lisa Goodman by default. Spoiled and small-minded was how she’d always struck them. She’d sit with her friends in the middle row in class, flirt a little with the more popular guys, and get slightly below average grades. She didn’t seem particularly dumb, but she didn’t seem much interested in working harder than she had to either. In fact, it seemed pretty clear to Kyle that she was simply riding out school until she was free to get back to the important business of sitting by the pool, painting her nails and drooling over the lawn mower man.
So when Steve told him that he’d asked her out, Kyle couldn’t have been more surprised.
He got the news one late afternoon, after school-he’d just finished part of his homework and was preparing to have dinner before heading downtown to meet Steve when Steve himself rang to tell him about it. It was a while before he managed to absorb the information, though. For Steve to go from scarcely talking to girls to asking out Lisa-it was like finding himself in some sort of freaky alternate reality.
“Steve-seriously? You asked Lisa out?”
“Yup.” Steve’s voice crackled through the phone at Kyle’s ear.
“Like, on a date?”
“Yeah, man.”
Kyle was at a loss for words-he wasn’t sure if Steve was expecting him to be pleased, or what.
“When did-when did this happen?”
“Today.”
Kyle felt exasperated. Steve wasn’t usually so sparing with his words; this was the guy who used to get sent out of class for talking at least three times a week, before Kyle showed him how to pass notes without the teacher seeing. Now Steve was choosing to be reticent just when Kyle wanted him to explain himself.
“Yeah,” he said, “but when today? In school, you mean?”
“Yeah,” Steve responded patiently. “This morning after second period.” He sounded as though he had suddenly advanced five years and was trying to explain something that he didn’t think Kyle was old enough to understand.
“So-what did she say?” Kyle gave an uncertain laugh.
“She said yes. Why else would I be telling you?”
Even his voice sounded deeper. It gave Kyle a creepy feeling-like his friend was possessed, or cloned, or lobotomized or something.
“But-you’ve never been on a date before.”
“Yeah, well, now I am.” The serious tone eased off a little as he laughed. “What, you think I can’t hack it? I’m fifteen, dude. I can ask a girl out. It’s about time.”
“Geez. I guess. But-Lisa? I mean, why her?”
“Hey, Lisa’s okay.”
Kyle heard his mom snort. He glanced over at her where she was stir-frying some chicken. “Just a sec,” he muttered to Steve. Covering the mouthpiece, he hissed “Hey-mom. Why don’t ya pick up the phone upstairs if you wanna listen in?”
She shrugged. “Don’t get all self-righteous with me, kiddo. If it’s a private conversation why don’t you take it upstairs? Tell Steve from me he’s a moron.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. His mom was a small woman and even in her heels she was a few inches shorter than her fifteen-year-old son… and she had to be the lesser of the two when it came to physical strength. None of this made arguing with her any less futile than it had been when he was five, though.
Still, he wasn’t going to use the upstairs phone-it crackled worse than the one downstairs-so he turned his back to his mother, the short cord wrapping around his hip, and brought the phone closer to his face.
“Uh, sorry. Mom.”
“Yeah, I figured. HI, MRS LEWIS!”
“Jesus! You just about cracked my eardrum, asshole!”
“Heh. Wish I could cuss like that around my mom.”
“No, look-seriously, how did this happen?” Kyle asked. “I thought you hated Lisa.”
There was a pause-and it dawned on Kyle then that Steve was yanking his chain. The tight feeling in his gut eased up to be replaced by annoyance. He should have known. Steve had told him some fairy tales before just for the pleasure of teasing him, and as far as fairy tales went this definitely had all the hallmarks of being one of his more elaborate ones, the kind he usually saved for April first. Lisa had done nothing but sneer at them for years, and Steve had always freely and enthusiastically voiced his dislike of her. In fact, back in the day when they were a little less mature, Steve had used to entertain Kyle and their friends by doing a comical impersonation of her, involving snubbing the tip of his nose with his finger and uttering a high-pitched laugh like a whinnying horse. The idea of him voluntarily asking her out-and of her saying yes-it had to be a joke.
“Look, I know it sounds weird,” Steve said at last. “It probably sounds crazy to you. That’s what you think, right?”
He actually sounded worried, and despite his suspicions Kyle felt compelled to reassure him. “No, man. I don’t think that.”
“It’s hard to explain. But Kyle-” that serious tone crept back-“there’s a reason I’m telling you all this, okay.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Well, when I asked her I was figuring we’d go out tomorrow or whatever, but she kinda told me to meet her tonight. So…”
“…so you can’t come see Terminal Justice with me.” Kyle felt disappointment fall on him like a weight, even though he was still sure Steve was full of it-but if he reacted too strongly, the harder Steve was going to laugh at him for falling for his stupid joke. “Man, that’s too bad,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.
“I know.”
“And you can’t go out with her some other night?”
“I can’t, Kyle. If I cancel on her I might not get another shot.”
Kyle sighed. He couldn’t take this uncertainty any longer. “Okay-Steve, c’mon.”
“What?”
“You’re messing with me, right? I mean, you’re telling me that you’re gonna pass up seeing the most anticipated action thriller this year with your coolest friend in order to hang out with Lisa Goodman? No way.” There was silence on the line, and Kyle started to feel irritated. “Come on, man, I get it-what d’ya want me to do, break down and cry?”
“Dude-I’m not messing with you.” Steve sounded a little annoyed. “You can ask Travis if you don’t believe me! He was there when I asked her.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah, how many times?”
Kyle hardly knew what to think; all he felt was a faint, numb dismay. “You’re going on a date with Lisa Goodman.”
“Yeah-me, Steve Golding, on a date with her, Lisa Goodman. Making sense now, or d’ya need me to draw you a diagram?"
“So you really are flaking on me tonight?”
Steve sighed. “I don’t want to, bud. I just can’t afford to pass this up.”
“But I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Kyle was startled at how pathetic his own voice sounded. He wasn’t one of those popular jocks in school-he and his friends had never quite managed to assimilate with any of the usual cliques and mostly got through school by keeping themselves inconspicuous-but still, he’d always worn his own quiet brand of awesomeness, and worn it well. Now, a few simple words had stripped it away-and here he was, whining like a complete loser.
“I can’t do it,” Steve was saying. “I know, the timing sucks-”
“Come on, dude, it’s Terminal Justice! Brad Wallis is gonna be kicking butt!”
“I can’t. I’m sorry,” Steve said. “It’s… I’m sorry, okay?”
Kyle didn’t say anything. He suddenly felt like crap, and Steve’s apologies made it worse. It wasn’t just the movie-Steve had backed out of stuff like this before, when he’d gotten grounded, or when he got sick, or when his mom made him cancel because relatives were in town. But he’d never bailed on a friend out of choice.
Steve coughed awkwardly. “Look, why don’t you go with Travis instead?”
“Yeah… maybe.”
“Or you could call up Simon, he’s usually free.”
“Yeah-okay, thanks for the suggestions, mom.”
“Whoa.” Steve sounded taken aback. “Just trying to make things right, dude.”
Kyle sighed. “Just don’t worry about it, okay. It’s just a movie. Probably sucks ass anyway.”
“Come on, you forgive me, right?”
“Sure.” Kyle swallowed, the flare of anger dissipating. “Sure, man. I just-I’m just kinda surprised, I guess.”
“Look, I know she’s pissed us off a lot over the years. But-maybe we’re growing up a little now. Ya know, the whole time I’ve known her I’ve probably been just as shitty to her as she’s been to me.”
“I guess.” Kyle didn’t think Lisa gave a crap what Steve or Kyle or any of their circle of friends said to her, but he didn’t say so.
“Anyway, I had a detention with her a while back. I guess after talking to her some I realized that she’s-she’s actually nice. And you gotta admit, she is pretty. I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask her for a couple of months, actually.”
“Months?”
“I guess. Something like that.”
Kyle tried to process this.
“How come you never told me?”
“Well, I’m telling you now. It’s-it’s not really that big of a deal, Kyle.”
Kyle nodded, looking down at his shoe. Steve sounded odd, sort of self-conscious, as if he was expecting Kyle to laugh at him. Somehow that brought it home more than anything else how serious Steve was.
“You really do like her, huh?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I like her.”
“Okay,” Kyle said, not knowing what else to say. “Well-sure. Lisa’s-maybe she’s not so bad. Yeah, I-I get it.”
Steve sighed. “Man, I knew you’d take it bad-I don’t even know why you’re taking it bad, but I knew-”
“What’s wrong? I just said I get it.”
“Yeah, it’s in your voice. You sound like I killed your fucking dog.”
“No-it’s fine. Really, it’s not a big deal.” With great mental effort, he shifted gears. “Seriously, it’s cool. I mean, dude, way to go! You asked her out and she said yes! Right on.”
“Yeah, well you needn’t sound so surprised.”
“I guess she sees something behind that butt-ugly face of yours.”
“Screw you, man,” Steve rejoined warmly. He wasn’t ugly-far from it-but it was customary to throw out an insult when the opportunity presented itself, and it did seem to ease the tension. Steve had been sounding almost like a stranger; now he sounded more like Kyle’s best friend again.
“So, when are you seeing her?”
“In about an hour. I’m trying to figure out what the hell to wear. Somehow that shit seems to matter all of a sudden.”
“Yeah, Lisa would probably notice if you wore something that looked cheap.”
“Yeah, right. Talk about pressure. Christ, she’s seen me in all of these…”
“Hey-dude, wear that blue shirt. The button down shirt you have.”
Steve laughed, a little doubtfully. “You think?”
“Yeah. She’s probably seen it before but you look good in it-” that sounded wrong, and he corrected himself swiftly. “I mean, it’s a pretty smart-looking shirt, y’know?”
“All right. I’ll tell you later if you made the right call.”
“What are you gonna do? Take her to a movie?” An awful thought suddenly occurred to him. “You’re not taking her to see Terminal Justice, are you?”
Just the idea made his hands feel sweaty. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, the notion that this might be an over-reaction was sporadically flickering, like a bad bulb; but all he could focus on right now was the image of Steve and Lisa sitting in a movie theater watching Brad Wallis on the big screen when it was supposed to be Steve and Kyle… just like it had always been.
Steve’s reaction was almost worse, though. He seemed affronted at the idea. “Are you kidding? You think a girl like Lisa would want to see Terminal Justice?”
“Well, how should I know?”
“That’s just-that’s just not a date movie, man.”
“Oh,” Kyle said lamely.
“You have much to learn, young grasshopper,” Steve said, which made Kyle smile a little. “Anyway, we’re keeping it casual for now. I’m gonna take her to the Juno Center downtown.”
“Take her there?”
“Well, you know. Meet her there. What am I gonna do, pick her up in my Ferrari? I think we’re gonna have some ice-cream at Martinelli’s or something. I guess she hangs out at the mall with her friends a lot.”
“Figures.”
“Kyle, she’s okay. A lot of people hang out there. It’s not like this place is busting with exciting venues, ya know?”
“Yeah, yeah. So what are you going to talk to her about?” Kyle was trying to picture Steve and Lisa together.
“I’ll think of something.”
“It’d be easier if you were seeing a movie, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have to talk so much.”
“Well, ice-cream was her idea. It’s okay, I know how to talk to girls.”
Kyle found himself snickering. “Ya gonna kiss her?”
There was a muffled exclamation, followed the sound of Steve coughing. “Fuck-I don’t know!” he spluttered, sounding half amused and half outraged. “I’m not just gonna grab her, for Christ’s sake; there’s such a thing as timing, ya know?”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Gotta be the right moment, dude. The right mood. You don’t wanna rush it.”
“Geez. What, did you read this stuff up in a book or something?”
“What d’you mean?”
“I don’t know. This is weird. I never pictured you-I don’t know.”
“Hey, I have depths, okay. There’s a whole side of me you don’t know, man. I think she’ll like me.”
“Okay. Well, good luck, all right? Call me after, tell me how it went.”
“Uh… yeah. Sure.” Steve laughed, sounding awkward again. “Anyway, I better go, okay? Yeah. Bye, Kyle.”
Kyle delivered his goodbye without really hearing what he was saying, and hung up the phone on the wall.
For a second he had a strange disconnected sensation, as if he wasn’t really there, but somewhere else, dreaming. He felt the texture of the door frame where he stood between the living room and the kitchen, heard the happy ding! of their old Chime-O-Matic rice cooker, smelled the chicken cooking, and slowly descended back to earth; but he still felt-kind of thrown. Shaken, even.
Out of the blue, Steve was talking like he knew all about dating girls, and Kyle had no idea where it had come from. They spent most of their time together-at what point did the guy figure out how to ask a girl out? When did he even start wanting to?
“Hey, baby.”
It was his mom. When he turned she was standing in front of him, her make-up no longer quite masking the tiredness around her eyes after a long day’s work, looking up at him with concern. She often looked tired, but it didn’t really matter-Nancy Lewis had the kind of face people just couldn’t help liking. In spite of a life that hadn’t always been easy, she had an infectious smile and eyes that were always warm and inviting.
That warmth was doing nothing for Kyle right now, however. He liked his mom-no, he loved her-but she was constantly in his face lately… and right now there was a sinking heaviness inside him which he badly needed to take someplace where her searching eyes weren’t on him.
“Stevie stand you up?” she asked.
“Not a big deal.”
“Hm.” She ruffled his hair, frowning. “I’m sorry, kid.”
He sighed and brushed her hand away. “I’m going to my room.”
“Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Just give me a minute, okay?”
“Okay. Sure. Don’t take too long, all right?”
Kyle trudged upstairs; but instead of going to his room, he entered the bathroom, and after shutting the door behind him he paused and looked around at the general clutter, getting some reassurance from the familiarity of the disorder. There were lipsticks, face creams, a few hair scrunchies that his sister had left behind after her last visit; there were conch shells, cotton balls, candles; a coffee mug on the edge of the bath, and more than one wine glass, all rimmed with Nancy Lewis’s lipstick. A couple of magazines on the floor and a small wastebasket with a discarded pair of hose dangling out of it; a rhinestone encrusted box overflowing with costume jewelry, and a spider plant on the window sill, long stems trailing down to the old stained linoleum. His mom’s stuff.
The room smelled of perfume and peroxide; it was messy, but it was comforting nonetheless. Besides, Kyle was feeling a strong need for privacy at that moment. True, his mom had taken to knocking on his bedroom door before coming in lately, but the bathroom was still the one place in the house where he was guaranteed to be free from interruptions.
He locked the door.
His next instinct was to sit on the edge of the tub and put his head in his hands-but if he did that, he was afraid this bad feeling would get worse, not better, and then he’d have to admit that he was upset. He wasn’t in the mood to analyze his feelings, he simply wanted them to go away. So he went to the washstand, turned on the faucet and threw water over his face; as long as he was moving, doing something, maybe nothing was wrong. In a moment, the weight inside him would lift and he’d be able to face his mom again.
He straightened up, dripping. The weight was still there.
He snatched up a towel, scrubbed his face dry with it and glanced around the room again, looking for a distraction that might occupy him until he felt better. His eye fell on the cloth scrunchies on the window sill and he picked one of them up. It was dark pink-a little dusty, but it still had some of his sister’s dark hairs tangled in it. He pressed it to his nose. There was the tiniest hint of a scent lingering-a strange girl’s smell-but mostly it just smelled dusty. It had been several months since she’d visited.
Rebecca was a full nine years older than Kyle, and her departure had occurred about six months after their father had gotten killed. She had just been finishing high school when it happened, and at seventeen, the loss had been too much for her to deal with-so when she got accepted at a college somewhere in Pennsylvania, she took it as an opportunity to start a new life. That was how Kyle’s mom had explained it to him, at least.
Since then, it had mostly just been Kyle and his mom. Rebecca visited occasionally-not quite once a year, but close-and they’d get together, reminisce a little, catch up on the essentials, then go back to their separate lives. Those visits were always welcome to Kyle, but when his sister was gone, he didn’t particularly miss her. There was a life before his dad had gone, and a life after-she belonged to the former. And he’d been very young-eight years old-when that former life had ended.
It had been a huge shock at the time, though. Jim Lewis hadn’t been some ne’er do well who brought his demise upon himself-he was just a mild-mannered middle school teacher, who had been grading papers on the night the tragedy occurred. It had gotten late-Kyle was already blissfully asleep in his bed, his arms wrapped around his stuffed rabbit-when Jim decided he needed a break and a smoke; so, telling Nancy that he’d be back in ten minutes, he strolled down to the Seven-Eleven on the corner for cigarettes. He was in the building, and had just picked up a People magazine for Nancy, when some jumpy, terrified kid in need of a fix came in, pulled out a gun and demanded that the store clerk empty the cash register. Jim, familiar with teenagers, tried to calm the kid down, to tell him to give it up and walk away before he ruined his life. According to the clerk’s statement he was starting to make some headway, but then a cop strolled into the store. He wasn’t there in response to a call-he was probably just there to buy a few Twinkies-but the kid had freaked out, accidentally firing the gun and hitting Jim in the chest. It had been at very close range, and Jim Lewis had died in the ambulance. The kid got charged with attempted armed robbery and murder.
Kyle sighed, fiddling with Rebecca’s scrunchie. What would his dad have said to him right now? He wasn’t sure-but he doubted that he’d be asking his father for advice, even if he’d been available, any more than he was asking his mom right now. He wasn’t prepared to talk about something so dumb.
But if he wanted to feel okay again, he knew now that it wasn’t going to happen by itself-he was going to have to do some thinking. He didn’t much relish the task, but he’d managed to out-smart bad feelings before-fear, anger, loneliness, disappointment, doubt-oh yeah, he’d done battle with them all. He set Rebecca’s scrunchie down where he’d found it, and then caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror.
For a moment he didn’t quite recognize himself; a frown was creasing his forehead and his eyes looked scared. Kyle regarded himself critically, determinedly blinking the look away, and took a deep breath.
“Okay,” he muttered to his reflection. “What’s going on?”
Steve was blowing him off so that he could go out with Lisa. Well sure, that sucked. How the hell was he supposed to feel about that?
It was a shock, too. That had to be a factor. It was totally unexpected. If he’d seen it coming, it wouldn’t have felt so bad.
But really, why was he surprised? Other guys in his grade had been on dates. And there had been talk among their own circle, about chicks and which ones were hot, for a long while now. Names of various female icons were thrown around, and Steve himself had revealed to Kyle over a year ago that he had a picture of supermodel Cammi Tyler cut from one of his sister’s magazines stuck on the side of the end table by his bed. Kyle remembered that moment well; he had laughed his ass off. Cammi Tyler. ‘In your fucking dreams,’ he’d said. ‘That’s kind of the idea,’ Steve had replied, grinning.
Kyle really didn’t get the fascination, and didn’t know how to pretend to. He didn’t really see any reason to pretend; he’d always done things his own way, and back in fifth grade, when he used to get pushed around and called a freak (treatment that anyone who was a little off-base had to expect) he’d fought for and won his right to be whoever he damn well pleased. If he could keep it real for those assholes, then he sure as hell didn’t have to put on any kind of act for his friends. So he’d laugh, shrug, and proudly declare his indifference. He told them they had no taste, that he was more discerning. When they pressed him to divulge just what attributes a girl would need to have in order for her to meet his standards, Kyle found that he didn’t really have an answer-so he’d say ‘well, when I see her, I’ll tell ya. She doesn’t go to Grangeville High, that’s for sure.’ They’d chortle, apparently agreeing with that last part, and for a while it was almost a game with them-‘which hot supermodel is good enough for Kyle?’ If it made him seem arrogant, that was okay-these were his friends, and they knew him.
Kyle frowned at himself in the mirror. No, Cammi Tyler hadn’t bothered him. But Lisa Goodman-that was different.
Lisa was nothing like Cammi Tyler, that was for sure. She was-well, just a boring schoolgirl. And kind of a snob. How Steve could actually want to put himself through the ordeal of asking Lisa Goodman out when he had a perfectly good picture of Cammi Tyler by his bed was beyond Kyle.
But Lisa had something on Cammi-she wasn’t a cut-out piece of paper. She was real. She was right there in Grangeville. Steve going out on a date with her-it made Cammi Tyler seem like a thousand years ago.
“Sell-out,” Kyle breathed stubbornly, still talking to his reflection. “Steve, you’re a fucking sell-out.” He looked away, considering, picking up one of his mom’s necklaces and fiddling with the catch.
Sell-out… it sounded good, and it was as apt a classification for his friend’s bone-headed enterprise as any.
But the accusation sounded false, somehow.
Because he didn’t really know what he was talking about.
He didn’t. Kyle was the last person qualified to dispense advice to his friend about girls, or challenge him about which girl from school he chose to ask out. Cammi Tyler, Lisa Goodman, who was hot, who was not-it was all a mystery to him. The whole subject was-retarded.
And he didn’t want to get into it. Why should he? Everything was perfect the way it was. Kyle and his friends had known each other since they were little kids, and they had formed a tight-knit group over the years. They had fun. They watched movies together, read their comic books together, surfed and rafted together-and they went through all the crap school could throw at them, sharing detentions, enduring the humiliating, sarcastic barbs from the teachers they didn’t like, warding off potential bullies through solidarity.
And Steve-Steve was always there. He and Kyle had known each other since kindergarten, and been best friends since third grade. What’s more they lived only a block away from each other-so evenings, weekends, those long, endless days during summer vacation, Steve was always the first person Kyle thought of. When they were nine they had sleepovers nearly once a week, making a tent out of Steve’s Batman bed sheets and reading comics by flashlight. When they were twelve they’d built a secret fort out in the woods, and once rode their bicycles all the way to Steeple Hill so they could race each other down (Kyle had hurtled over his handlebars and hit the asphalt so hard that he still had a patch of numb scar tissue on his knee). When Steve’s dog Maisie had died Kyle was the one who’d comforted him and helped him make a grave for her; when Kyle was worried about his mom, Steve was the one who would let him talk, and always had an idea for some crazy stunt that would help him feel better. How could dating get to be more important than that? How could Lisa fucking Goodman be more important?
He set down the necklace and leaned on the edge of the washstand, staring down at the little drain. Yeah, that’s what was really bothering him. Steve downgrading from a supermodel to a schoolgirl didn’t matter; the fact that Lisa was real and Cammi wasn’t didn’t even matter, really. What mattered was that somehow, all that stuff was suddenly more important to Steve than Kyle was. And somewhere deep down Kyle knew that while ‘sell-out’ sounded good, there was another accusation that better matched his feelings about Steve going with Lisa.
Traitor.
His eyes suddenly felt hot and itchy and his chest hurt.
“Kyle?” His mom was calling up the stairs. “Dinner’s ready!”
He opened his mouth to call that he’d be right down, but that pain in his chest had risen up and tightened around his throat and he found that he couldn’t. Weird. A little alarmed, he straightened up and instinctively checked the mirror.
Holy shit. Was he crying?
“What the hell…” he trailed off, shocked at the choked sound of his voice, still more shocked at the expression he saw in his own reflection, looking helplessly back at him. His eyes were hurt and lost and wet, tears were on his cheeks that he hadn’t realized were there, and his lips were parted, breathing in shallow gulps. He looked away abruptly, hating the sight, and clutched the edge of the washstand, working to get himself back together. Kyle hardly ever cried-he wasn’t sure of the last time it had happened, but he didn’t think it had been since he was in 5th grade at least.
He breathed deeply and slowly, great shaking breaths rattling from him, and between breaths tried to listen, fearing that his mom might come up the stairs and overhear him. Once his breathing was close to being under his control again he shoved the tears away angrily, swallowed hard and took a few steadying breaths before looking at his face again. His lower lip was trembling still.
“Lewis, you fucking pussy,” he muttered. “Cut that shit out.”
He glared at himself, his mouth set to a hard line. In a moment the trembling had stopped.
What the hell was the matter with him?
He sniffed, took another deep breath. He was supposed to be having dinner with his mom-he had to get a grip.
Lisa Goodman.
It was kinda funny when you thought about it. Stevie and Lisa, sittin’ in a tree!
Kyle managed a smile. Man, when he told Mike about this… and Riley, he’d probably piss his pants laughing.
It’d never work out, he realized. Steve and Lisa-no, it couldn’t work. No way. Like his mom said, Steve was being a moron-Lisa was and always would be a total bitch, no matter how pretty Steve thought she was. He pictured them sitting together, eating ice-cream. In his mind’s eye, they were staring off in different directions, bored as hell. And Steve was thinking, as clear as if he’d had a comic-book thought-bubble over his head:
Wish I’d gone to see Terminal Justice with Kyle.
And maybe a second bubble in the next panel, closer now on Steve’s dejected face:
…Why didn’t I listen to him?
Maybe he’d even call Kyle later, humbled and contrite: I’m so sorry about that, man. You were totally right, it was dumb. Let’s go to Mickey D’s, get some fries and laugh the whole damn thing off, what d’ya say?
Kyle looked at his face in the mirror one last time. His eyes were a little red. Maybe he could convince his mom that he’d got something in his eye.
Yeah, Steve would get over it. He was being a moron. He’d get through this little phase and then-then everything would go back to normal.
Author's Name: bertiebwriting (aka closetofheroes)
Rating: R
Warnings: No Oliver. Maybe some violence and sexual situations in later chapters.
Summary: Kyle Lewis in high school.
Chapter One - The Phone Call
They had always disliked Lisa Goodman by default. Spoiled and small-minded was how she’d always struck them. She’d sit with her friends in the middle row in class, flirt a little with the more popular guys, and get slightly below average grades. She didn’t seem particularly dumb, but she didn’t seem much interested in working harder than she had to either. In fact, it seemed pretty clear to Kyle that she was simply riding out school until she was free to get back to the important business of sitting by the pool, painting her nails and drooling over the lawn mower man.
So when Steve told him that he’d asked her out, Kyle couldn’t have been more surprised.
He got the news one late afternoon, after school-he’d just finished part of his homework and was preparing to have dinner before heading downtown to meet Steve when Steve himself rang to tell him about it. It was a while before he managed to absorb the information, though. For Steve to go from scarcely talking to girls to asking out Lisa-it was like finding himself in some sort of freaky alternate reality.
“Steve-seriously? You asked Lisa out?”
“Yup.” Steve’s voice crackled through the phone at Kyle’s ear.
“Like, on a date?”
“Yeah, man.”
Kyle was at a loss for words-he wasn’t sure if Steve was expecting him to be pleased, or what.
“When did-when did this happen?”
“Today.”
Kyle felt exasperated. Steve wasn’t usually so sparing with his words; this was the guy who used to get sent out of class for talking at least three times a week, before Kyle showed him how to pass notes without the teacher seeing. Now Steve was choosing to be reticent just when Kyle wanted him to explain himself.
“Yeah,” he said, “but when today? In school, you mean?”
“Yeah,” Steve responded patiently. “This morning after second period.” He sounded as though he had suddenly advanced five years and was trying to explain something that he didn’t think Kyle was old enough to understand.
“So-what did she say?” Kyle gave an uncertain laugh.
“She said yes. Why else would I be telling you?”
Even his voice sounded deeper. It gave Kyle a creepy feeling-like his friend was possessed, or cloned, or lobotomized or something.
“But-you’ve never been on a date before.”
“Yeah, well, now I am.” The serious tone eased off a little as he laughed. “What, you think I can’t hack it? I’m fifteen, dude. I can ask a girl out. It’s about time.”
“Geez. I guess. But-Lisa? I mean, why her?”
“Hey, Lisa’s okay.”
Kyle heard his mom snort. He glanced over at her where she was stir-frying some chicken. “Just a sec,” he muttered to Steve. Covering the mouthpiece, he hissed “Hey-mom. Why don’t ya pick up the phone upstairs if you wanna listen in?”
She shrugged. “Don’t get all self-righteous with me, kiddo. If it’s a private conversation why don’t you take it upstairs? Tell Steve from me he’s a moron.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. His mom was a small woman and even in her heels she was a few inches shorter than her fifteen-year-old son… and she had to be the lesser of the two when it came to physical strength. None of this made arguing with her any less futile than it had been when he was five, though.
Still, he wasn’t going to use the upstairs phone-it crackled worse than the one downstairs-so he turned his back to his mother, the short cord wrapping around his hip, and brought the phone closer to his face.
“Uh, sorry. Mom.”
“Yeah, I figured. HI, MRS LEWIS!”
“Jesus! You just about cracked my eardrum, asshole!”
“Heh. Wish I could cuss like that around my mom.”
“No, look-seriously, how did this happen?” Kyle asked. “I thought you hated Lisa.”
There was a pause-and it dawned on Kyle then that Steve was yanking his chain. The tight feeling in his gut eased up to be replaced by annoyance. He should have known. Steve had told him some fairy tales before just for the pleasure of teasing him, and as far as fairy tales went this definitely had all the hallmarks of being one of his more elaborate ones, the kind he usually saved for April first. Lisa had done nothing but sneer at them for years, and Steve had always freely and enthusiastically voiced his dislike of her. In fact, back in the day when they were a little less mature, Steve had used to entertain Kyle and their friends by doing a comical impersonation of her, involving snubbing the tip of his nose with his finger and uttering a high-pitched laugh like a whinnying horse. The idea of him voluntarily asking her out-and of her saying yes-it had to be a joke.
“Look, I know it sounds weird,” Steve said at last. “It probably sounds crazy to you. That’s what you think, right?”
He actually sounded worried, and despite his suspicions Kyle felt compelled to reassure him. “No, man. I don’t think that.”
“It’s hard to explain. But Kyle-” that serious tone crept back-“there’s a reason I’m telling you all this, okay.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Well, when I asked her I was figuring we’d go out tomorrow or whatever, but she kinda told me to meet her tonight. So…”
“…so you can’t come see Terminal Justice with me.” Kyle felt disappointment fall on him like a weight, even though he was still sure Steve was full of it-but if he reacted too strongly, the harder Steve was going to laugh at him for falling for his stupid joke. “Man, that’s too bad,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.
“I know.”
“And you can’t go out with her some other night?”
“I can’t, Kyle. If I cancel on her I might not get another shot.”
Kyle sighed. He couldn’t take this uncertainty any longer. “Okay-Steve, c’mon.”
“What?”
“You’re messing with me, right? I mean, you’re telling me that you’re gonna pass up seeing the most anticipated action thriller this year with your coolest friend in order to hang out with Lisa Goodman? No way.” There was silence on the line, and Kyle started to feel irritated. “Come on, man, I get it-what d’ya want me to do, break down and cry?”
“Dude-I’m not messing with you.” Steve sounded a little annoyed. “You can ask Travis if you don’t believe me! He was there when I asked her.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah, how many times?”
Kyle hardly knew what to think; all he felt was a faint, numb dismay. “You’re going on a date with Lisa Goodman.”
“Yeah-me, Steve Golding, on a date with her, Lisa Goodman. Making sense now, or d’ya need me to draw you a diagram?"
“So you really are flaking on me tonight?”
Steve sighed. “I don’t want to, bud. I just can’t afford to pass this up.”
“But I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Kyle was startled at how pathetic his own voice sounded. He wasn’t one of those popular jocks in school-he and his friends had never quite managed to assimilate with any of the usual cliques and mostly got through school by keeping themselves inconspicuous-but still, he’d always worn his own quiet brand of awesomeness, and worn it well. Now, a few simple words had stripped it away-and here he was, whining like a complete loser.
“I can’t do it,” Steve was saying. “I know, the timing sucks-”
“Come on, dude, it’s Terminal Justice! Brad Wallis is gonna be kicking butt!”
“I can’t. I’m sorry,” Steve said. “It’s… I’m sorry, okay?”
Kyle didn’t say anything. He suddenly felt like crap, and Steve’s apologies made it worse. It wasn’t just the movie-Steve had backed out of stuff like this before, when he’d gotten grounded, or when he got sick, or when his mom made him cancel because relatives were in town. But he’d never bailed on a friend out of choice.
Steve coughed awkwardly. “Look, why don’t you go with Travis instead?”
“Yeah… maybe.”
“Or you could call up Simon, he’s usually free.”
“Yeah-okay, thanks for the suggestions, mom.”
“Whoa.” Steve sounded taken aback. “Just trying to make things right, dude.”
Kyle sighed. “Just don’t worry about it, okay. It’s just a movie. Probably sucks ass anyway.”
“Come on, you forgive me, right?”
“Sure.” Kyle swallowed, the flare of anger dissipating. “Sure, man. I just-I’m just kinda surprised, I guess.”
“Look, I know she’s pissed us off a lot over the years. But-maybe we’re growing up a little now. Ya know, the whole time I’ve known her I’ve probably been just as shitty to her as she’s been to me.”
“I guess.” Kyle didn’t think Lisa gave a crap what Steve or Kyle or any of their circle of friends said to her, but he didn’t say so.
“Anyway, I had a detention with her a while back. I guess after talking to her some I realized that she’s-she’s actually nice. And you gotta admit, she is pretty. I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask her for a couple of months, actually.”
“Months?”
“I guess. Something like that.”
Kyle tried to process this.
“How come you never told me?”
“Well, I’m telling you now. It’s-it’s not really that big of a deal, Kyle.”
Kyle nodded, looking down at his shoe. Steve sounded odd, sort of self-conscious, as if he was expecting Kyle to laugh at him. Somehow that brought it home more than anything else how serious Steve was.
“You really do like her, huh?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I like her.”
“Okay,” Kyle said, not knowing what else to say. “Well-sure. Lisa’s-maybe she’s not so bad. Yeah, I-I get it.”
Steve sighed. “Man, I knew you’d take it bad-I don’t even know why you’re taking it bad, but I knew-”
“What’s wrong? I just said I get it.”
“Yeah, it’s in your voice. You sound like I killed your fucking dog.”
“No-it’s fine. Really, it’s not a big deal.” With great mental effort, he shifted gears. “Seriously, it’s cool. I mean, dude, way to go! You asked her out and she said yes! Right on.”
“Yeah, well you needn’t sound so surprised.”
“I guess she sees something behind that butt-ugly face of yours.”
“Screw you, man,” Steve rejoined warmly. He wasn’t ugly-far from it-but it was customary to throw out an insult when the opportunity presented itself, and it did seem to ease the tension. Steve had been sounding almost like a stranger; now he sounded more like Kyle’s best friend again.
“So, when are you seeing her?”
“In about an hour. I’m trying to figure out what the hell to wear. Somehow that shit seems to matter all of a sudden.”
“Yeah, Lisa would probably notice if you wore something that looked cheap.”
“Yeah, right. Talk about pressure. Christ, she’s seen me in all of these…”
“Hey-dude, wear that blue shirt. The button down shirt you have.”
Steve laughed, a little doubtfully. “You think?”
“Yeah. She’s probably seen it before but you look good in it-” that sounded wrong, and he corrected himself swiftly. “I mean, it’s a pretty smart-looking shirt, y’know?”
“All right. I’ll tell you later if you made the right call.”
“What are you gonna do? Take her to a movie?” An awful thought suddenly occurred to him. “You’re not taking her to see Terminal Justice, are you?”
Just the idea made his hands feel sweaty. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, the notion that this might be an over-reaction was sporadically flickering, like a bad bulb; but all he could focus on right now was the image of Steve and Lisa sitting in a movie theater watching Brad Wallis on the big screen when it was supposed to be Steve and Kyle… just like it had always been.
Steve’s reaction was almost worse, though. He seemed affronted at the idea. “Are you kidding? You think a girl like Lisa would want to see Terminal Justice?”
“Well, how should I know?”
“That’s just-that’s just not a date movie, man.”
“Oh,” Kyle said lamely.
“You have much to learn, young grasshopper,” Steve said, which made Kyle smile a little. “Anyway, we’re keeping it casual for now. I’m gonna take her to the Juno Center downtown.”
“Take her there?”
“Well, you know. Meet her there. What am I gonna do, pick her up in my Ferrari? I think we’re gonna have some ice-cream at Martinelli’s or something. I guess she hangs out at the mall with her friends a lot.”
“Figures.”
“Kyle, she’s okay. A lot of people hang out there. It’s not like this place is busting with exciting venues, ya know?”
“Yeah, yeah. So what are you going to talk to her about?” Kyle was trying to picture Steve and Lisa together.
“I’ll think of something.”
“It’d be easier if you were seeing a movie, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have to talk so much.”
“Well, ice-cream was her idea. It’s okay, I know how to talk to girls.”
Kyle found himself snickering. “Ya gonna kiss her?”
There was a muffled exclamation, followed the sound of Steve coughing. “Fuck-I don’t know!” he spluttered, sounding half amused and half outraged. “I’m not just gonna grab her, for Christ’s sake; there’s such a thing as timing, ya know?”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Gotta be the right moment, dude. The right mood. You don’t wanna rush it.”
“Geez. What, did you read this stuff up in a book or something?”
“What d’you mean?”
“I don’t know. This is weird. I never pictured you-I don’t know.”
“Hey, I have depths, okay. There’s a whole side of me you don’t know, man. I think she’ll like me.”
“Okay. Well, good luck, all right? Call me after, tell me how it went.”
“Uh… yeah. Sure.” Steve laughed, sounding awkward again. “Anyway, I better go, okay? Yeah. Bye, Kyle.”
Kyle delivered his goodbye without really hearing what he was saying, and hung up the phone on the wall.
For a second he had a strange disconnected sensation, as if he wasn’t really there, but somewhere else, dreaming. He felt the texture of the door frame where he stood between the living room and the kitchen, heard the happy ding! of their old Chime-O-Matic rice cooker, smelled the chicken cooking, and slowly descended back to earth; but he still felt-kind of thrown. Shaken, even.
Out of the blue, Steve was talking like he knew all about dating girls, and Kyle had no idea where it had come from. They spent most of their time together-at what point did the guy figure out how to ask a girl out? When did he even start wanting to?
“Hey, baby.”
It was his mom. When he turned she was standing in front of him, her make-up no longer quite masking the tiredness around her eyes after a long day’s work, looking up at him with concern. She often looked tired, but it didn’t really matter-Nancy Lewis had the kind of face people just couldn’t help liking. In spite of a life that hadn’t always been easy, she had an infectious smile and eyes that were always warm and inviting.
That warmth was doing nothing for Kyle right now, however. He liked his mom-no, he loved her-but she was constantly in his face lately… and right now there was a sinking heaviness inside him which he badly needed to take someplace where her searching eyes weren’t on him.
“Stevie stand you up?” she asked.
“Not a big deal.”
“Hm.” She ruffled his hair, frowning. “I’m sorry, kid.”
He sighed and brushed her hand away. “I’m going to my room.”
“Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Just give me a minute, okay?”
“Okay. Sure. Don’t take too long, all right?”
Kyle trudged upstairs; but instead of going to his room, he entered the bathroom, and after shutting the door behind him he paused and looked around at the general clutter, getting some reassurance from the familiarity of the disorder. There were lipsticks, face creams, a few hair scrunchies that his sister had left behind after her last visit; there were conch shells, cotton balls, candles; a coffee mug on the edge of the bath, and more than one wine glass, all rimmed with Nancy Lewis’s lipstick. A couple of magazines on the floor and a small wastebasket with a discarded pair of hose dangling out of it; a rhinestone encrusted box overflowing with costume jewelry, and a spider plant on the window sill, long stems trailing down to the old stained linoleum. His mom’s stuff.
The room smelled of perfume and peroxide; it was messy, but it was comforting nonetheless. Besides, Kyle was feeling a strong need for privacy at that moment. True, his mom had taken to knocking on his bedroom door before coming in lately, but the bathroom was still the one place in the house where he was guaranteed to be free from interruptions.
He locked the door.
His next instinct was to sit on the edge of the tub and put his head in his hands-but if he did that, he was afraid this bad feeling would get worse, not better, and then he’d have to admit that he was upset. He wasn’t in the mood to analyze his feelings, he simply wanted them to go away. So he went to the washstand, turned on the faucet and threw water over his face; as long as he was moving, doing something, maybe nothing was wrong. In a moment, the weight inside him would lift and he’d be able to face his mom again.
He straightened up, dripping. The weight was still there.
He snatched up a towel, scrubbed his face dry with it and glanced around the room again, looking for a distraction that might occupy him until he felt better. His eye fell on the cloth scrunchies on the window sill and he picked one of them up. It was dark pink-a little dusty, but it still had some of his sister’s dark hairs tangled in it. He pressed it to his nose. There was the tiniest hint of a scent lingering-a strange girl’s smell-but mostly it just smelled dusty. It had been several months since she’d visited.
Rebecca was a full nine years older than Kyle, and her departure had occurred about six months after their father had gotten killed. She had just been finishing high school when it happened, and at seventeen, the loss had been too much for her to deal with-so when she got accepted at a college somewhere in Pennsylvania, she took it as an opportunity to start a new life. That was how Kyle’s mom had explained it to him, at least.
Since then, it had mostly just been Kyle and his mom. Rebecca visited occasionally-not quite once a year, but close-and they’d get together, reminisce a little, catch up on the essentials, then go back to their separate lives. Those visits were always welcome to Kyle, but when his sister was gone, he didn’t particularly miss her. There was a life before his dad had gone, and a life after-she belonged to the former. And he’d been very young-eight years old-when that former life had ended.
It had been a huge shock at the time, though. Jim Lewis hadn’t been some ne’er do well who brought his demise upon himself-he was just a mild-mannered middle school teacher, who had been grading papers on the night the tragedy occurred. It had gotten late-Kyle was already blissfully asleep in his bed, his arms wrapped around his stuffed rabbit-when Jim decided he needed a break and a smoke; so, telling Nancy that he’d be back in ten minutes, he strolled down to the Seven-Eleven on the corner for cigarettes. He was in the building, and had just picked up a People magazine for Nancy, when some jumpy, terrified kid in need of a fix came in, pulled out a gun and demanded that the store clerk empty the cash register. Jim, familiar with teenagers, tried to calm the kid down, to tell him to give it up and walk away before he ruined his life. According to the clerk’s statement he was starting to make some headway, but then a cop strolled into the store. He wasn’t there in response to a call-he was probably just there to buy a few Twinkies-but the kid had freaked out, accidentally firing the gun and hitting Jim in the chest. It had been at very close range, and Jim Lewis had died in the ambulance. The kid got charged with attempted armed robbery and murder.
Kyle sighed, fiddling with Rebecca’s scrunchie. What would his dad have said to him right now? He wasn’t sure-but he doubted that he’d be asking his father for advice, even if he’d been available, any more than he was asking his mom right now. He wasn’t prepared to talk about something so dumb.
But if he wanted to feel okay again, he knew now that it wasn’t going to happen by itself-he was going to have to do some thinking. He didn’t much relish the task, but he’d managed to out-smart bad feelings before-fear, anger, loneliness, disappointment, doubt-oh yeah, he’d done battle with them all. He set Rebecca’s scrunchie down where he’d found it, and then caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror.
For a moment he didn’t quite recognize himself; a frown was creasing his forehead and his eyes looked scared. Kyle regarded himself critically, determinedly blinking the look away, and took a deep breath.
“Okay,” he muttered to his reflection. “What’s going on?”
Steve was blowing him off so that he could go out with Lisa. Well sure, that sucked. How the hell was he supposed to feel about that?
It was a shock, too. That had to be a factor. It was totally unexpected. If he’d seen it coming, it wouldn’t have felt so bad.
But really, why was he surprised? Other guys in his grade had been on dates. And there had been talk among their own circle, about chicks and which ones were hot, for a long while now. Names of various female icons were thrown around, and Steve himself had revealed to Kyle over a year ago that he had a picture of supermodel Cammi Tyler cut from one of his sister’s magazines stuck on the side of the end table by his bed. Kyle remembered that moment well; he had laughed his ass off. Cammi Tyler. ‘In your fucking dreams,’ he’d said. ‘That’s kind of the idea,’ Steve had replied, grinning.
Kyle really didn’t get the fascination, and didn’t know how to pretend to. He didn’t really see any reason to pretend; he’d always done things his own way, and back in fifth grade, when he used to get pushed around and called a freak (treatment that anyone who was a little off-base had to expect) he’d fought for and won his right to be whoever he damn well pleased. If he could keep it real for those assholes, then he sure as hell didn’t have to put on any kind of act for his friends. So he’d laugh, shrug, and proudly declare his indifference. He told them they had no taste, that he was more discerning. When they pressed him to divulge just what attributes a girl would need to have in order for her to meet his standards, Kyle found that he didn’t really have an answer-so he’d say ‘well, when I see her, I’ll tell ya. She doesn’t go to Grangeville High, that’s for sure.’ They’d chortle, apparently agreeing with that last part, and for a while it was almost a game with them-‘which hot supermodel is good enough for Kyle?’ If it made him seem arrogant, that was okay-these were his friends, and they knew him.
Kyle frowned at himself in the mirror. No, Cammi Tyler hadn’t bothered him. But Lisa Goodman-that was different.
Lisa was nothing like Cammi Tyler, that was for sure. She was-well, just a boring schoolgirl. And kind of a snob. How Steve could actually want to put himself through the ordeal of asking Lisa Goodman out when he had a perfectly good picture of Cammi Tyler by his bed was beyond Kyle.
But Lisa had something on Cammi-she wasn’t a cut-out piece of paper. She was real. She was right there in Grangeville. Steve going out on a date with her-it made Cammi Tyler seem like a thousand years ago.
“Sell-out,” Kyle breathed stubbornly, still talking to his reflection. “Steve, you’re a fucking sell-out.” He looked away, considering, picking up one of his mom’s necklaces and fiddling with the catch.
Sell-out… it sounded good, and it was as apt a classification for his friend’s bone-headed enterprise as any.
But the accusation sounded false, somehow.
Because he didn’t really know what he was talking about.
He didn’t. Kyle was the last person qualified to dispense advice to his friend about girls, or challenge him about which girl from school he chose to ask out. Cammi Tyler, Lisa Goodman, who was hot, who was not-it was all a mystery to him. The whole subject was-retarded.
And he didn’t want to get into it. Why should he? Everything was perfect the way it was. Kyle and his friends had known each other since they were little kids, and they had formed a tight-knit group over the years. They had fun. They watched movies together, read their comic books together, surfed and rafted together-and they went through all the crap school could throw at them, sharing detentions, enduring the humiliating, sarcastic barbs from the teachers they didn’t like, warding off potential bullies through solidarity.
And Steve-Steve was always there. He and Kyle had known each other since kindergarten, and been best friends since third grade. What’s more they lived only a block away from each other-so evenings, weekends, those long, endless days during summer vacation, Steve was always the first person Kyle thought of. When they were nine they had sleepovers nearly once a week, making a tent out of Steve’s Batman bed sheets and reading comics by flashlight. When they were twelve they’d built a secret fort out in the woods, and once rode their bicycles all the way to Steeple Hill so they could race each other down (Kyle had hurtled over his handlebars and hit the asphalt so hard that he still had a patch of numb scar tissue on his knee). When Steve’s dog Maisie had died Kyle was the one who’d comforted him and helped him make a grave for her; when Kyle was worried about his mom, Steve was the one who would let him talk, and always had an idea for some crazy stunt that would help him feel better. How could dating get to be more important than that? How could Lisa fucking Goodman be more important?
He set down the necklace and leaned on the edge of the washstand, staring down at the little drain. Yeah, that’s what was really bothering him. Steve downgrading from a supermodel to a schoolgirl didn’t matter; the fact that Lisa was real and Cammi wasn’t didn’t even matter, really. What mattered was that somehow, all that stuff was suddenly more important to Steve than Kyle was. And somewhere deep down Kyle knew that while ‘sell-out’ sounded good, there was another accusation that better matched his feelings about Steve going with Lisa.
Traitor.
His eyes suddenly felt hot and itchy and his chest hurt.
“Kyle?” His mom was calling up the stairs. “Dinner’s ready!”
He opened his mouth to call that he’d be right down, but that pain in his chest had risen up and tightened around his throat and he found that he couldn’t. Weird. A little alarmed, he straightened up and instinctively checked the mirror.
Holy shit. Was he crying?
“What the hell…” he trailed off, shocked at the choked sound of his voice, still more shocked at the expression he saw in his own reflection, looking helplessly back at him. His eyes were hurt and lost and wet, tears were on his cheeks that he hadn’t realized were there, and his lips were parted, breathing in shallow gulps. He looked away abruptly, hating the sight, and clutched the edge of the washstand, working to get himself back together. Kyle hardly ever cried-he wasn’t sure of the last time it had happened, but he didn’t think it had been since he was in 5th grade at least.
He breathed deeply and slowly, great shaking breaths rattling from him, and between breaths tried to listen, fearing that his mom might come up the stairs and overhear him. Once his breathing was close to being under his control again he shoved the tears away angrily, swallowed hard and took a few steadying breaths before looking at his face again. His lower lip was trembling still.
“Lewis, you fucking pussy,” he muttered. “Cut that shit out.”
He glared at himself, his mouth set to a hard line. In a moment the trembling had stopped.
What the hell was the matter with him?
He sniffed, took another deep breath. He was supposed to be having dinner with his mom-he had to get a grip.
Lisa Goodman.
It was kinda funny when you thought about it. Stevie and Lisa, sittin’ in a tree!
Kyle managed a smile. Man, when he told Mike about this… and Riley, he’d probably piss his pants laughing.
It’d never work out, he realized. Steve and Lisa-no, it couldn’t work. No way. Like his mom said, Steve was being a moron-Lisa was and always would be a total bitch, no matter how pretty Steve thought she was. He pictured them sitting together, eating ice-cream. In his mind’s eye, they were staring off in different directions, bored as hell. And Steve was thinking, as clear as if he’d had a comic-book thought-bubble over his head:
Wish I’d gone to see Terminal Justice with Kyle.
And maybe a second bubble in the next panel, closer now on Steve’s dejected face:
…Why didn’t I listen to him?
Maybe he’d even call Kyle later, humbled and contrite: I’m so sorry about that, man. You were totally right, it was dumb. Let’s go to Mickey D’s, get some fries and laugh the whole damn thing off, what d’ya say?
Kyle looked at his face in the mirror one last time. His eyes were a little red. Maybe he could convince his mom that he’d got something in his eye.
Yeah, Steve would get over it. He was being a moron. He’d get through this little phase and then-then everything would go back to normal.