Coming of Age NovelsLife-changing books with heart and soul

   "Shane, you're late." Mr. Kaufmann was standing in the office doorway when I walked into the warehouse Friday after school. He had his hands on his hips and it didn't take a genius to know he wasn't happy.
    “Yeah, I know I’m late. But—”
    He turned his back on my explanation and walked into the office. I started to follow, but he returned almost immediately. “I was going to wait until tomorrow, but there’s no point. Here’s the money we owe you. You’re fired.”
    He held out an envelope, but I didn’t take it.
    “I said you’re fired,” Mr. Kaufmann repeated. “The only reason I’ve kept you on this long is that you worked well last summer when you were here full time. But since school started and you’ve been part-time—well, it just hasn’t worked out.”
    “I don’t get it. You’re firing me because I was late today? I can explain that.”
    “It isn’t today. It’s your attitude. You do the least you can get away with. You really don’t care if you do a good job or not. And some of the new kids are copying you. I can’t have that. So here’s your money.”
    He held the envelope in front of my face and this time I took it. But I felt more like stuffing it down his throat. What was to care about in moving boxes and loading trucks? I’d been doing the job, hadn’t I? Spending every day after school and all day Saturday in this stinking place!
    He went into the office and shut the door, so there was nothing for me to do but leave.
    I knew the others were watching. Well, I didn’t owe them anything. They were no friends of mine—just people I worked with.
    I swore under my breath and then walked back the way I’d come, grabbing my jacket off the hook as I went by.
    And then I noticed the small tear on my sleeve.
    How had that happened? Last night when I’d put my car in the shed and had brushed against the wall? I’d bought the jacket, an expensive black leather one, in the after-Christmas sale only a couple of weeks ago. Because of all the repairs to my car, and other expenses, the jacket had taken the last of my money. Now the jacket was already torn and the pay packet I was holding contained all the money I had left after working my butt off all summer and fall!
    Anger surged through me. There was a stack of boxes near the doorway. I kicked them over, feeling a small amount of satisfaction when one of them opened and a bunch of small ball bearings went rolling all over the floor. I yanked open the side door and slammed it behind me as hard as I could.
    The January cold cooled me off fast. I stopped to put on the jacket.
    This was all my dad’s fault! Just because I’d had another speeding ticket, he’d taken the keys to my car and told me I couldn’t have them back for two weeks. And because I’d had to walk to work, I was late. So I was out of a job and it was all his fault.
    I decided to go over to Ted’s apartment and see if he was alone. Ted and I had been hanging around together a lot since last summer. He’s a bit like me—eighteen and tired of being treated like a little kid. But we look kind of funny together. I’m blond, six-two, fairly muscular, and, they say, good-looking. Ted’s short, maybe five-seven, and skinny—about a hundred and thirty pounds dripping wet. He has long brown hair and a thin face with sharp features. Not exactly the guy you’d introduce to your favorite sister.
    Our backgrounds are different, too. I’ve got a dad who’s worked for the same company since he was my age, a mom who works part-time at the library, and a twin brother, Sandy. Ted lives in an apartment with only his father, who’s had a ton of jobs and right now is a salesman for a men’s clothing manufacturer. That means he travels a lot, which means Ted gets left alone a lot, which he likes.
    Ted’s kind of strange. His marks in school are terrible, but his street smarts would put him at the top of the class. He thinks life should be one big party, but, despite his size, he can defend himself pretty well when he has to.
    His apartment is on the top floor of a four story building. It’s nothing to write home about, but it serves it’s purpose. Neither Ted nor his dad are what you’d call fussy.
    When I got up to his door, I knocked, and I heard him yell, “Who is it?”
    “Shane.”
    I heard him pulling back bolts. Then the door opened.
    “Your dad here?” I asked.
    “Naw, it’s okay. I thought you worked today.”
    “No.”
    “Must have heard wrong.”
    Time enough to enlighten him later.
    We spent several hours watching a movie he’d borrowed and drinking a few beers. Then we sent out for pizza. Stupid on my part because I should have saved what money I had left. Also stupid because if I didn’t go home for supper my dad would be mad.
    But sometimes it’s easier not to face things. And this was one of those times.
    So we ate pizza, had a couple more beers, and watched TV until suddenly Ted commented that it was eight o’clock.
    Reality intruded. I jumped. “I’m supposed to pick up Marietta!”
    “How?”
    I stared at him. “How? What do you mean—how?” Then I remembered I had no car. And I hadn’t arranged for a ride. I sat down.
    “Get a ride with somebody.”
    “Yeah.” I phoned a couple of kids and finally got somebody who’d pick me up and drive me to Marietta’s. Ted came, too.
    There was a party at Scott’s house. Scott is another friend—well, sort of a friend. His parents are away a lot, so Scott has parties at his house frequently. I don’t know if his parents are so stupid they can’t tell, or if they just don’t care.
    Anyway, they never get in his way, so he keeps having parties.
    And that’s where I was taking Marietta, the girl I had been going out with since last September. She’s really something. Hard to believe she’d actually been going with me that long. That’s a lot longer than she usually gives one guy.
    She wasn’t too pleased when she came to the door of her house. “You’re late.” She sounded a lot like Mr. Kaufmann.
    “Sorry.”
    “Where’s your car?”
    “I told you my dad took my keys.”
    “You mean you really can’t drive it?”
    “I told you this morning.”
    “Well, I guess I didn’t quite believe it.”
    “Now do you?”
    She handed me her long, white, furry coat and I sort of held it for her to get her arms in. I’m not very good at things like that, but she got it on in spite of my help, and soon we were in the back seat of the car.
    I pulled her closer, but she pushed me away.
    “You’ve been drinking,” she said.
    “So?”
    “So nothing. I wanted to talk to you.”
    “What about?”
    “Are you sober enough to listen?”
    “I only had a couple of drinks.”
    “I don’t want to talk here.”
    “Neither do I.” I pulled her close again, and this time she let me kiss her a couple of times. But she wasn’t into it.
    We arrived at Scott’s, but instead of going in, Marietta walked around to the side of the house. She stepped carefully, keeping to the dried brown grass and avoiding the patches of snow and mud. I figured this must really be important for her to walk on the lawn in her stiletto heels, so I  followed.
    “So, what do you want to talk about?”
    “I think it’s time,” she said.
    “Time?”
    “We’ve been going together nearly four months.”
    “So?”
    “You were a lot of fun.”
    “Were?”
    “That’s right. Were. You aren’t any more. In fact, lately you’re boring.”
    “So you’re tired of me? And that’s it? Just like that?”
    She elaborated on the subject, but I barely heard. I felt a bit like I was watching a show on TV. Like I wasn’t really part of it. All I could concentrate on was Marietta herself, and not what she was saying. Her silky blond hair, which fell loose to just below her waist, shimmered as she
    spoke. One of those crazy three-inch-high heels she wears lifted and stamped impatiently now and again. Even with those heels, she’s so tiny the top of her head barely comes to my shoulder. And the figure under that coat! Marietta wears halter tops and short tight skirts and looks the way most girls just dream about.
    But I couldn’t see her figure right now. All I could see were her hands, punctuated with blue nail polish, moving rapidly to emphasize the words she was saying. And her animated face, with its black lashes, blue shadows, and red lipstick, looking up earnestly, innocently, at me, as if I should understand and be happy to do this for her.
    As I watched her, I realized how little she cared about me. Shane Donahue was just one more in a long line of admirers. She’d given me all her attention for several months. But I was no longer  entertaining her. And I had no car. So it was time.
    I stood there, leaning against the wall, waiting for her explanation to end. I don’t know how I should have felt. Angry, sad, whatever…. All I really felt was numb. Added to the rest, what difference did it make whether Marietta dumped me or not? It was just another pebble to add to the pile of things that hadn’t worked out for Shane Donahue. That pile was getting pretty high.
    Through the mist I heard Keith’s name, and something triggered my tongue.
    “Keith?” I echoed.
    “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
    “You’re going to go out with him?”
    “Why not? I probably should have long ago.”
    Yeah. It made sense.
    Why not Marietta and Keith? Why should the fact that Keith and I had been good friends since last summer mean that Keith would stop at stealing my girl?
    “Are you angry?” she asked.
    I brushed strands of hair back from my face while I thought about it. Was I angry?
    “Where’s Keith?” I asked after a moment.
    She shrugged. “In the house, I expect.”
    I remembered the first time I’d gotten up enough nerve to ask Marietta out. She’d been going with Rory Jefferson at the time, and she said no. I asked her again a week later, and this time she said yes. But Rory objected and I ended up fighting him. Keith had been there, impartial since Rory was a friend of his, too. But when I won, Keith slapped me on the back and laughed and told me I deserved her. Was I supposed to fight for her now? And if I won, would I get her back? Was that all she really wanted? Guys fighting over her?
    I don’t know what she was expecting. I guess she thought I’d make some effort to make her change her mind.
    But I didn’t.
    I walked away without a word. When I looked back, she was staring after me, her mouth open.
    I found Keith sitting at the kitchen table by himself drinking beer and looking at a magazine. And waiting.
    Keith is sort of a big shot. Not at school, where he’s short on ambition, and not with the “in” crowd, like Sandy, but with kids like Ted and me.
    Keith is big, a little taller than me and at least forty pounds heavier. But he’s not fat. In fact, he’s put together like an armored tank. Like Ted, he’s always willing to party, but if he had a choice he’d take a good fight. And he usually wins. He looks the part too, with partly shaved black hair, swarthy skin, and a large nose that was broken once and never put quite straight again.
    I stood in front of him, waiting, and at last he looked up. “Well?” he challenged.
    “Thanks, pal,” I said evenly.
    “All’s fair in love and war,” Keith retorted. “You’d do the same to me.”
    “Maybe.”
    He pushed his chair back. “So? Are you going to be reasonable or do I have to fight you?”
    I considered. I’d never fought Keith. Was I afraid to? Maybe, but I didn’t think so. More important, did I want to fight him? To give Marietta the satisfaction of seeing us down on the floor kicking and gouging each other because of her? And what difference would it make, anyway? Even if I won, did I want her that way?
    “Well, Blondie?” Keith used a nickname he knows I hate. He was grinning, and I knew he’d love to fight me just for the excitement of it.
    The anger that had been building up inside me all day took over. Yeah, that’s what I wanted, too. I’d feel a lot better after a good fight.
    Ted came into the kitchen. “What you two doing? Where’s Marietta, Shane?”
    I ignored him.
    “What you up to? Trying something new?” Ted asked, grabbing my sleeve.
    “Well?” Keith repeated.
    I unbuttoned my jacket.
    “What are you doing?” Ted asked for a third time, now getting impatient. “You spaced out? Try something you didn’t like?”
    I shook my head and handed him my jacket. “Here, take this and get out of the kitchen.”
    “What are—”
    As I let go of the jacket, Keith’s fist struck my jaw and only the presence of the kitchen table kept me from going down. Keith stood in front of me grinning. I came up slowly, watching him. For all his size, he was like a cat, and I knew I had to watch for my opportunity.
    “Come on, Blondie. What’cha waiting for? Scared?”
    The doorway was crowded with kids. Ted and Marietta and others. All of them calling out, egging us on, anxious for the fight to continue.
    Keith glanced sideways and I let go a right that should have done some damage. But he had been toying with me, and my fist glanced off his cheek as he dodged to the left and sent a fist into my stomach. Again, I was off-balance, and he followed up with a left to my chin. I knew I had to forget about the anger I was feeling, and concentrate on what I was doing.
    Keith was enjoying himself. “Hey, Blondie, I thought you could fight. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”
    “Come on, Shane, you’ve got him,” someone urged.
    “You can take him easily, Keith.” Marietta’s voice.
    “Two to one on Keith,” Scott yelled. “Any takers?”
    I blocked out the voices as I began moving sideways, pushing a chair out of the way, moving around Keith the way a boxer does his opponent in the ring, looking for an opening in his defense. I was focused now. First Keith. Then everything else.
    He had his fists up like a boxer would, protecting his face. The last thing he expected was for me to charge in, grab him around the waist, and drag him to the ground. So that’s what I did. Hey, nobody laid out any rules, did they? I tackled him hard, and I heard a big, “Oof!” as we went down hard onto the beige linoleum, me on top.
    He grabbed my hair and I gave him what in boxing would have been called a low blow and disallowed. But we had no referee. While he was yelling in pain, I followed up with a right to the nose that brought blood gushing out. He yelled and pulled my hair and tried to get a thumb in my eye, but I moved away and got to my feet. Warily, he started to get up. I waited till he was half-way, then tackled him again, throwing him to his stomach and grabbing his leg. I twisted it up behind and he yelled and swore.
    “Uncle?” I asked.
    He swore at me, and tried to grab my leg, but I tightened my grip on his ankle until he stopped.
    I had always suspected I could beat Keith. Okay, maybe not if we had a referee and rules and all. But in a situation like this, when you could do anything, I’d always seemed to have the advantage. Maybe it was because I didn’t care what I did so long as I won.
    “I win?” I asked.
    Keith nodded. His face was red and he looked as if he were in some pain.
    “I didn’t hear you,” I said.
    “You win.” His words were slurred. Probably because his nose was still spilling blood all over. If it was broken, as I thought it might well be, I hoped they set it straight this time.
    “Marietta?” I asked.
    “You—you can keep her.”
    “That right, Marietta?” I turned to where she was standing in the doorway.
    “You beat him,” was all she said.
    “Yeah, but does that mean I get to keep you?”
    She shrugged. “I guess.”
    “Come here.”
    Reluctantly, she pushed past Ted and Scott and came to within a foot of me. She had taken off her coat, so I could see that terrific figure.
    I let go of Keith’s leg, and he collapsed on the floor, moaning. Scott went rushing to get a towel to stop the blood from getting all over the floor. “Idiots,” he said cheerfully.
    “Way to go, Shane,” Ted called. Several other people called out congratulations to me or sympathy to Keith.
    I put my arm around Marietta’s tiny waist. “So what happens now?” I asked.
    She reached up to put her arm around my neck and started to kiss me, but I put my hand over her lips.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “I changed my mind.”

Chapter 2

     Marietta stared up at me. “What are you talking about?”
    “It isn’t worth it.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You. You aren’t worth fighting for. Hey, Keith! I changed my mind. She’s all yours.”
    I pushed Marietta toward Keith and turned to shove my way through the crowd that was still crushed into the doorway.  But Marietta wasn’t about to let me go.
    She grabbed my shirt and yelled, “You pig!”
    I turned to face her and her nails raked the side of my neck.
    I slapped her hard across the face. She staggered back, swearing at me.
    “Somebody told me you had no class,” I said. “I hit him for saying it, but I guess he was right after all. My sympathies, Keith.”
    I turned and pushed through the crowd. A couple of girls asked me to come dance with them, but I didn’t stop.
    It was only when I got to the door that I remembered my jacket. When I yelled, Ted came running to give it to me.
    “Wow, you really hammered him,” Ted said.
    “Yeah.”
    Maybe I should have felt good about it, but for some reason I didn’t. Maybe because of Marietta.
    “You going?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Want me to come?”
    “No. You stay. Have a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “You sure you’re okay? I could come if you want.”
    “Tomorrow,” I repeated more firmly. Then I walked quickly away in the direction of my house.
    I slowed down after a few blocks.
    The adrenaline that had come surging up when I faced Keith had seeped away, and I felt sick to my stomach. Ahead of me was a small children’s park. In the cold darkness, the swings hung lifelessly and the slide and jungle gym stood empty. They looked lonely and deserted, just the way I felt.
    My feet turned in. Walking over to the wooden jungle gym, I grasped two of the poles, spread out my feet, and leaned my head against the hard wood. My whole body was heaving. I heard sobs, and felt wetness on my cheeks. For maybe five minutes, I just stood there, crying like I was a little lost kid. Finally, I got control again and wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I remembered the rip in it and wondered if it could be fixed.
    Suddenly, I realized someone might have seen me. I hurriedly looked around. But only the dark images of the playground stared back. I was all alone.
    I sat on one of the swings—something I hadn’t done for years. Idly, I moved the swing back and forth. Funny. Things were so easy when you were a kid. They didn’t really prepare you for now, when you were nearly grown up and life seemed to take one punch after another, not even giving you time to get set in between. This past year, everything had gone wrong. Like somebody changed all the rules without bothering to tell me. Or maybe it was me. Maybe I had changed. After all, Sandy seemed to be doing okay.
    My eyes blurred and I shoved my feet against the sand so the swing moved crazily. Why did I always wind up thinking about my twin?
    I stopped the swing and stood up. I kicked viciously at the sand, but all I did was get some of it in my shoe.
    After I’d put the shoe back on and put my collar up so no one would see the scratches, I started walking. It was beginning to snow—large flakes that glided softly from the heavens and melted where they lay.
    But I barely noticed the snowflakes. I had beaten Keith. Big deal. He was likely high on something and I had taken advantage of it. Beating him didn’t change the fact that Marietta had dumped me. I was still going to have to put on an act so everybody would think I didn’t care. I was sick of it! Always trying to put on an act. But what else could I do? I couldn’t let anyone know how I really felt inside. They’d all laugh at me. After all, I was Shane Donahue; I was supposed to be tough; or so I’d wanted everyone to think.
    I reached the street and kept moving, one foot in front of another. Stupid thoughts raced through my mind. What would happen if a car should come racing along and skid on the ice and run over me? Would this pain deep inside go away?
    As if on command, the headlights of a car appeared, coming straight toward me, shining on the falling snowflakes so that they looked like enormous white feathers floating down from a gigantic cloud pillow fight in the sky.
    The car, an old, blue station wagon, was going slowly and it didn’t skid. Instead, the driver slowed to a stop and a head appeared out of the window.
    A female voice said, “Need a lift?”
    I stared through the darkness, trying to make out her identity. Short, dark brown hair, an expressive face….
    “Do you want a ride?” she asked again, and this time I placed her. Janice Hopkins. I knew her name, but she was two years below me in school, and she wasn’t one of Sandy’s or my friends.
    But what the heck?
    I moved toward the car, and she said, “It is Shane, isn’t it?” Her voice was soft and musical.
    “Yeah.”
    “You look cold.”
    I shrugged.
    “Do you need a ride? I mean, you seem to be walking and…. Well, I’ve got my dad’s car tonight, so if you need a ride, I know where you live.”
    I got in. As we started moving, I sat wondering what to say. I wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood. Still, I had to say something. “Your dad let you have the car much?”
    “I just got my license two weeks ago. You have your own car, don’t you?”
    “More or less.”
    “What?”
    “I have a car, but I’ve had three speeding tickets, so I can’t drive it for two weeks. My father’s idea. You had a ticket yet?”
    She shook her head.
    “I wouldn’t mind getting them if my parents didn’t find out. They think it’s some big deal.”
    “Don’t you lose your license if you get too many?”
    “Yeah, I guess.”
    We lapsed into silence again.
    “You’re in Weaver’s class, aren’t you?” I asked after a while. “Home room, I mean.”
    “Yes.”
    “He’s weird, huh? I had him two years ago.”
    Her eyes were focused straight ahead as she concentrated on driving. “He’s okay.”
    I gazed at her in disbelief. Anyone who thought Weaver was okay had to be a little strange herself!
    She glanced over and laughed. Her laugh was carefree and melodic, and I remembered hearing it in the hallways and wondering what she was like.
    “Okay, he is a bit weird,” she conceded. “But he’s a good teacher if you ignore his eccentricities.”
    “If you say so.”
    Her eyes twinkled. Then she was watching the road again, stopping for a red light, and driving very carefully.
    We were close to my house, so I gave directions and Janice stopped in front. “Well, thanks for the ride.” I got out and started toward the house. Then I thought about facing my parents and changed my mind. I stopped dead.
    “Shane?” She hadn’t driven away.
    I turned back towards the car, walked around to her side and opened the door. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go someplace.”
    Janice batted her lashes and smiled. “Sure, why not?”
    “Move over and let me drive. The roads are getting slippery.”
    “Oh, come on. Your dad won’t let you drive your car, so I should let you drive mine? What if you got a speeding ticket? Then my dad would have a fit. Besides, he told me not to let anyone else drive.”
    I swore. Then I tried again, “So what? You don’t have to tell him.”
    “But if he found out, he might never let me have the car again. And, anyway, why should you drive instead of me? I’m safe.” She glanced up at me from under those long lashes and said provocatively, “What’s the matter? Don’t you think I can drive?”
    Embarrassed, I scuffed the road with the toe of my running shoe. “Naw, it’s not that.”
    “Don’t you like to have a girl drive you?”
    I grinned guiltily.
    “Chauvinist.”
    I stood holding the door open.
    “Chicken,” she said.
    I shut the door and walked around to the passenger side. After a second, I got in.
    “Are you going to open the doors for me, too?” I asked.
    “Not on your life.”
    “I take it that means you won’t pay, either?”
    She looked at me sideways and then smiled. “Not unless I have to. I’m not crazy about doing dishes.”
    I laughed. I felt good for the first time today. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.
    I directed her to the parking lot at a nearby McDonald’s and laughed again at the way she maneuvered the car. Then I got out and opened the door for her. As she stepped out, she reached down, scooped up a handful of snow, and jumped up to shove it down the back of my neck.
    “Hey, what was that for?”
    “For being a rotten back seat driver.”
    “Tough girl, huh?”
    “I’ve got three brothers.”
    “Lucky you. One’s enough for me. More than enough!”
    She gave me a funny look, but didn’t ask any questions.
    “Come on, I’m starved.” I grabbed her hand. “You hungry?”
    “Not really.”
    “I am.”
    We found a table in a corner and I ordered a hamburger and two milkshakes. I ate slowly, talking about school and teachers and people we both knew. She noticed the top of the scratches and asked. I just said I had scratched myself on a fence. She gave me a funny look, but didn’t say anything more. Just kept playing with her straw, barely touching her milkshake. I finally finished it for her. Then I stretched. “Well, are you ready to take me home?”
    Janice laughed. “That doesn’t sound quite right, does it?”
    “Well, if you think I’m going to go with you to your place and then walk home, you’re crazy. Tell you what, you can phone me when you get there. That way I’ll know you’re okay.”
    We walked slowly back to the car. Janice had the keys in her hand, so I took them and opened the door to the driver’s side. But I stood in her way. “You still want to drive?”
    She smiled. “If you didn’t get speeding tickets you’d be driving your own car.”
    “If I’d been driving my own car, I might not have met you.”
    She laughed. “Maybe I’d have made you meet me.”
    “Oh, really? What would you have done? Asked me out?”
    “You’ll never know.”
    I leaned forward to take her hand and she didn’t draw back. Then I looked into her eyes for a second. There was no sign of unwillingness, so I kissed her cheek. She turned her face up and I kissed her. Then I moved out of the way. “Okay, you drive. Here are the keys.”
    I kept my arm on the back of the seat so I could gently touch her hair and neck. She didn’t seem to mind. She drove carefully to my house. When she stopped, I reached over and shut off the motor.
    “You aren’t in a hurry, are you?”
    “That depends. I don’t want you to think I’m too easy.”
    I laughed and pulled her closer.
    After a while, she said, “What time is it?”
    “It’s too dark to see.”
    She turned the light on.
    I looked at my watch. “A quarter to twelve.”
    “I had no idea it was that late. I have to be in by twelve.”
    “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
    She looked up at me intently. “Are you?”
    “Am I what?”
    “Having fun.”
    “You mean do I like being with you?”
    She nodded.
    “Stupid. Don’t you know when a guy likes you?”
    “I wasn’t wondering about ‘a guy.’ I was wondering about you.”
    “Well, maybe this will answer your question.” I slipped my arms around to hold her. Then I really kissed her.
    After she had caught her breath, she said, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
    “Nope. Only a select few.”
    “Does that mean I’ll see you again?”
    “Try to avoid me.”
    “Good-night.”
    “Good night, Janice. Call me when you get home.”
    I watched as the car drove away. Life felt a little better. In fact, I was humming as I walked toward the two-story semi-detached house where we’d lived for six years. Even having to look through all my pockets for the keys didn’t bother me. I found them at last, and even remembered to put my jacket and shoes into the closet next to the front door instead of tossing them on the floor.
    Mom and Dad were in bed, so I grabbed the phone before it finished ringing the first time, and talked to Janice just long enough for her to tell me she got home okay. After that, I went to the basement where we keep our computer.
    I was looking around on the Internet when I heard Sandy unlock the front door. He must have noticed the light was on because a moment later he came downstairs. Seeing me, he jerked back in surprise.
    “You home?”
    “Yeah.”
    “How was your evening? You and Marietta have a good time?”
    I felt a stab of pain in my guts, but I said, “Fine,” and hoped he didn’t know.
    “Oh, come on,” he said, “you haven’t been home this early on a Friday night for the last year. You really think I’m going to believe everything’s fine?”
    “I don’t care what you believe! Leave me alone.”
    “What’s the matter? Too much to drink? Or maybe Marietta stabbed you with one of her nails and you lost so much blood you had to come home to bed to recover. Am I close?”
    I shut off the computer. “I’m going to bed.”
    “Okay,” said Sandy. “You don’t have to tell me.”
    “That’s right. I don’t.”
    I headed upstairs, leaving him to turn off the lights.
    I went into the bathroom and shut the door. But instead of brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, I just leaned against the door, feeling sick. Every time Sandy and I were anywhere near each other these days, we seemed to fight.
    But it hadn’t always been that way. In fact, up until this past year we’d been pretty well inseparable. We’d spent hours together, building Lego space ships, playing catch, riding bikes, reading comic books huddled together in one bunk until Mom had made us separate to go to sleep.
    We’d even had our own language when we were little. Not that we needed words. We’d always known when the other was sad or afraid or angry. And if anyone hurt one of us, the other would be out for revenge.
    When we were eleven, we’d moved from our cramped apartment into this house where there were three bedrooms, and Dad had wanted to give us each his own room. Instead, we’d persuaded him to knock down the wall between so we could have one big room together.
    But, somehow, this past year, we had drifted apart. Sandy had become popular, and last June had been elected school president. He was the fair-haired boy—everyone liked him—teachers, parents, kids—everyone!
    And for some reason, I didn’t fit in with his new friends. So I’d made my own. Only, somehow, it wasn’t the same. And these past months, while everything in my life seemed to be falling apart, he was doing just fine.
    I was failing a couple of classes; Sandy was getting straight A’s. I had been kicked off the basketball team, which was the only team I’d made; Sandy was the star of several school teams. Just last night Dad had grounded my car because I’d had too many speeding tickets; Sandy never got speeding tickets. I had just been fired from my crummy job and because I had spent my money buying a car and insurance and gas, I was now broke; Sandy had had a high-paying, interesting job last summer where he’d been able to save enough money so he didn’t have to work during the year. I had just been dumped by a girl Sandy said you couldn’t pay him to date; he was dating the head cheerleader, who just happened to be the most popular girl in the school.
    I shook my head. What use was it to think about him. We were like strangers now, and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it.
    I got ready for bed and was under the covers when Sandy came up. I lay still, hearing him get ready for bed. Taking off his good slacks and his shirt. Putting on his pajamas. Combing his hair. Making sure he looked good, as usual. Funny, even though we’re identical twins, anybody who knows us can tell us apart easily. For starters, his hair is shorter than mine, and styled, and he’s always combing it to make sure it’s in place. But more than that, he wears pants and shirts, and maybe a sweater, and looks like he’s always trying to impress somebody. I prefer jeans and T-shirts. And I don’t smile all the time, like he does. Or worry about things like aftershave. And hanging up clothes.
    But at last he was ready for bed. He switched off the light. For about a minute, it was quiet. Then, “I heard something happened about your job today.”
    “I’m trying to get some sleep, if you don’t mind.”
    I heard him moving in bed and then the light went back on.  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do mind. You’re my brother. And we used to be pretty good friends. But I don’t seem to know you any more. It’s almost as if my twin has gone away and someone else has taken his place. What’s gone wrong?”
    “Nothing’s wrong.”
    “Don’t lie to me.”
    “Oh, did you remember? I lie all the time. Well, my dear brother, nothing is wrong! I think you are just as perfect as ever—maybe more so, and I’m going to sleep.”
    “Shane, don’t. Please. I don’t understand you any more. We used to be best friends, and now—”
    “And now I’m a lot smarter than I was then. What are you worried about, anyway? You’ve got everything you need. Or do you want me bowing and scraping along with everyone else?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want to feel my own brother hates me.”
    “I don’t hate you.”
    “Well, you sure act as if you do.”
    I swore at him.
    “Thanks.”
    “Look, you take care of your life and I’ll take care of mine.”
    “From what I’ve seen lately, you’re doing a lousy job.”
    I wanted to argue, but the truth was he was probably right. So should I tell him he was right and I was a creep, or should I use my fists to make him eat his words?
    I did neither, and a wall of silence rose.
    Sandy broke it at last by getting out of his bed and walking across to sit on the edge of mine.
    "Shane, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Shane, can’t you see I’m just worried about you? If you keep on acting the way you have been, you’re going to get expelled. I don’t want that to happen. Shane?”
    I hated him then. Because he could be so objective. Because he had no idea what it felt like to be me. Between clenched teeth, I yelled, “Go to hell!.”
    “Shane!”

Chapter 3

    I turned over and swung, catching Sandy by surprise. The force of my blow sent him tumbling off the bed onto the floor. But he was up immediately, and now his eyes flashed.
    “Get out of that bed!”
    “What’s the matter? Can’t you take it?”
    “Get out before I drag you out!”
    “I’d like to see you try.”
    Sandy, now furious, reached to grab my arm and pull me onto the floor. “Get up!”
    “Make me!”
    Sandy pulled on my arm, and we landed in a heap on the floor. He aimed a blow at my chin, but I saw it coming and ducked. The blow glanced off my shoulder, and I threw one of my own, but it didn’t do any damage. Then Sandy caught me a good one on the mouth, and I fell hard against the bed, the taste of blood on my lips. Sandy got up, looking worried, like he wanted to quit, but I lunged head-first and gave him one in the stomach that made him take notice, and then we were in close, jabbing and pushing.
    We were going at it, giving blow for blow, when the door swung open and Dad burst in. He was wearing blue striped pajamas, the top of which hung open, revealing his pot belly. And his graying brown hair was standing straight up from his having been asleep. “What the heck is going on?” he yelled.
    We stopped then, as much from exhaustion as from his arrival. We were both breathing hard.
    “Well? What’s this all about?”
    Sandy looked at me, but I turned to stare at the wall. I was not going to take the blame for this one.
    “I started it,” Sandy finally said.
    “Why?”
    “I—I don’t know. I’m sorry, Dad. I—I guess I just wasn’t thinking.”
    “If it happens again, you’ll find yourselves in a lot of trouble! Now get to bed! And if it does happen again, you’d sure better have a better good reason why!”
    He left, and Mom came in to see if we were hurt.
    “I don’t understand this,” she said in a worried voice. “You boys have never fought each other. You’ve always been such good friends. I don’t know what….” Her voice trailed off as she looked sadly at each of us in turn. But neither of us enlightened her.
    When she had put some stuff on the cut near my mouth and exclaimed about the scratches—I told her I’d scraped against a rough board at work—and made sure Sandy was okay, she left, adding as she went out the door, “Please don’t do anything like this again. Both say you’re sorry and then forget it. Okay?”
    She shut the door.
    I flung myself onto my bed and turned to face the wall. Sandy came over and stood beside me. “Shane, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s your right. And I guess it’s not up to me to tell you what to do. But I sure wish you’d smarten up before it’s too late!”
    I lay still.
    “You drive me crazy! How do you think I feel watching you mess up your life?”
    “Shut up!”
    “You scratched yourself on a board. Give me a break!”
    “I said shut up!”
    “I’ll shut up, all right. I’m sick and tired of trying to help you!”
    Sandy turned off the light and got into bed. I heard him tossing around for quite a while. I lay still. My mind was the part of me that was tossing. And it wasn’t finding a comfortable spot either.
    I guess we both got some sleep. Stands to reason. But when I woke up, Sandy was already studying. Of course, that’s not unusual. He studies all the time.
    Neither of us spoke. I went to the bathroom. After Mom called us to come for breakfast, we dressed in silence. At the table, there was little conversation. On weekends, Dad reads the morning paper. And Mom was only concerned that we got enough to eat.
    When he was finished eating, Sandy excused himself and went to study. I knew I had to get out of there because if I didn’t Mom and Dad would ask why I wasn’t going to work. So I went to the phone and dialed.
    Ted’s dad answered.
    “Is Ted home?”
    “Yeah, who is it?”
    “Shane.”
    “Ted’s busy.” The phone went dead.
    I set the receiver down slowly. What on earth was that about? You’d think Mr. Cummings didn’t want me to talk to Ted! Of course, Ted could be sick or something, but why wouldn’t he have said so? Or maybe Ted had been high last night and his dad was mad about it. I spent a few minutes wondering what could be wrong, but it was a puzzle I couldn’t solve. I’d talk to Ted later.
    I didn’t want to phone Keith, not after what had happened last night, and then I realized I didn’t want to call anyone else who’d been there last night. They’d all have something to say about me and Marietta.
    There was only one other person I could call. I dialed his number, and Ernie Walker answered the phone.
    “It’s Shane. You working today?”
    “Not till four. Just thinking of going over to the mall. Want to come?”
    “Yeah, I’ll be ready when you get here.”
    “Won’t be long.”
    I was waiting at the front door when Ernie pulled up in his mom’s ancient Volkswagen. Ernie is okay. I’ve known him a couple of years. He doesn’t have any really close friends, but he doesn’t seem to worry about it. He’s just…Ernie. About five-ten. Wears glasses. Not athletic. Nobody you’d ever notice in a crowd, except maybe if you went by color. Ernie’s mom is white, but his dad is black. I guess that’s the main reason he’s on the fringes like me. I find him kind of comfortable to be around. Like an old pair of sweat pants. He’s maybe the only person who’s never tried to change me.
    “How’d it go last night?” he asked.
    I groaned. “Don’t talk about it.”
    “That bad?”
    “Worse.”
    “What happened?”
    “Nothing important.”
    “Have you talked to Ted?”
    “I just tried to. His old man answered and more or less hung up on me. What gives?”
    “Ted phoned me this morning. I guess he flunked the math test and old man Reynolds phoned his dad last night to tell him if Ted doesn’t do some work in a hurry he’s not going to pass. So Ted’s dad got all fired up and grounded Ted until his marks are better. And he especially isn’t to have anything to do with you. It seems you’re a bad influence.” Ernie glanced sideways to catch my reaction.
    I slumped further down on the seat. “Oh, man. What does he think I do? Keep his sweet little kid from studying?”
    Ernie laughed. “Neither one of you opens a book if you can help it. Did you pass the test?”
    “Yeah.” A pause. “I cheated. How about you?”
    “You forget. I studied right after school so I could go out with you guys that night with a clear conscience. I received the high mark of 68.”
    “That’s nothing. My perfect brother got a near-perfect mark of 97. Of course, he studies all the time.”
    “Somebody has to get the good marks.”
    I just looked at him.
    Soon we were at the mall, where we bought Cokes. After that, we wandered around until lunch time. I bought a couple of tapes I’d been wanting. We had hamburgers, and then went to an arcade. I told Ernie about my getting fired and Marietta’s dumping me. He didn’t say much. But he didn’t tell me it was all my fault, like Sandy would have.
    At last, Ernie looked at his watch. “You know it’s nearly four?”
    “You have to go to work now?”
    “Yeah. Mr. Golachi isn’t very happy if we’re late.”
    “So what’ll he do—fire you?”
    “Probably not, but I’m not planning to find out. You coming now?”
    “Guess so. Nothing else to do.”
    We walked out to the car and Ernie dropped me at my house. I went inside slowly, wondering if Sandy was home. Dad was sitting in the living room watching TV. He looked up as I came in. “You’re early, aren’t you? You don’t usually get back from work until after five.”
    I hung up my jacket before answering. “We finished what had to be done.”
    “Oh? That’s unusual.” But he went back to the TV.
    I walked into the kitchen and found Mom making a pudding for supper.
    “You’re early,” she said.
    “Yeah, I know. Where’s Sandy?”
    “Upstairs. He’s studying now because of the game tomorrow.”
    I went upstairs. Sandy was sitting at his desk writing. He didn’t look up.
    I took off the sweatshirt I had been wearing and got a blue shirt out of the closet. I could look good if I wanted, too. I put the shirt on, leaving the top buttons undone. Then I got a gold chain out of my top drawer.
    “You have a date?” Sandy asked.
    “Naw, I’m getting dressed up for you.”
    “You haven’t forgotten about the English test Monday, have you?”
    “How could I forget when I’ve got you to remind me?”
    “Have you studied?”
    “You worry too much.”
    “Yeah? Well, you don’t worry enough.”
    “Says you.”
    “I heard you cheated on the math test.”
    “Who told you that?”
    “Never mind.”
    “Got your spies following me, have you?”
    “You’re asking for trouble.”
    I forced myself to laugh, “Well, as long as you keep your suspicions to yourself, I’ll be all right.” I started for the door, then remembered I had spent most of my money. “By the way, I need some more cash. Lend me twenty bucks.”
    “You already owe me thirty.”
    “So now I’ll owe you fifty.”
    Sandy slowly shook his head.
    “Okay, if that’s the way you want it, I’ll get the money some other way.” I let the door slam behind me as I went out.
    Downstairs, I went into the kitchen. I could hear the TV and I assumed both my parents were watching it. I made a peanut butter sandwich and went to the phone. Ted and I had planned to go driving tonight, but that was out. Ernie was at work. Marietta would be with Keith. Not that I cared. But I had to get out of the house. I looked on the hook for the keys to my car, but Dad must have put them somewhere else.
    Then I saw Mom’s purse on the counter behind some cans of juice that were waiting for somebody to take them to the basement. Her set of keys would be in it. Did I dare take Dad’s car? He and Mom didn’t look like they were going any place. And if Sandy was going to study all evening, no one might ever know the car was gone. But it would be just like Sandy to decide to go for a Coke after his work was done. And if he told Dad…. I thought hard. There had to be something I could do. Remembering last night, I reached for the phone book to look up Janice Hopkin’s number.
    Mom called out, “Who’s in the kitchen?”
    “I’m just phoning somebody,” I called back.
    “Haven’t you got homework to do, like Sandy?”
    “I’ve got most of it done,” I lied. I dialed Janice’s number and waited impatiently while the phone rang once, twice, three times. Finally, a female voice answered.
    “Janice?”
    “I’ll get her.”
    I waited, clenching and unclenching my fist, until at last she came.
    “Hi, it’s Shane. Remember me?”
    “Of course I remember you. What would you like?”
    “I wondered if you’ve still got the car.”
    “Depends on what I want it for.”
    “I was thinking in terms of pizza and a movie. I’d pick you up, but like I said, I’ve got a bit of a problem there.”
    “Just a second, okay?”
    I waited, wondering what she was doing. If she had to ask her parents, they’d likely say no. Then I’d just have to take Dad’s car and worry about the consequences later.
    “Shane?”
    “Yeah?”
    “I’ll pick you up in about twenty minutes, if that’s okay.”
    “I’ll be outside.”
    “See you.”
    I finished my sandwich and then tried to figure out how I could get some money. I had just about decided to make up some excuse when I remembered Mom’s purse. I opened her wallet. There was a twenty in it, along with some smaller bills.
    I took the twenty and put the purse back where it had been. It wasn’t the first time I’d borrowed money from her. And although I figured she must have wondered, she’d never said anything.
    Ten minutes later, Janice arrived in the station wagon and I got in the passenger side.
    “Where to?” she asked.
    “Golachi’s pizza place. You know where it is?”
    “Sure.” She drove carefully. “Going to the big game tomorrow?”
    I groaned. “Can’t you find something else to talk about?”
    “Sandy’s playing, isn’t he? How come you don’t play basketball?”
    “What do you want on your pizza?”
    The subject was changed and she didn’t bring up basketball again. We arrived at the pizza place and I got a large pizza and some pop from Ernie, who gave me a thumbs-up sign and made a dumb comment about my not wasting any time finding a nice nurse to take care of my broken heart.
    Later, I directed Janice to a parking spot near the theater. As before, I came around to open her door.
    “Not so hard this time?” she teased.
    “What?”
    “Being driven by me.”
    “Don’t think I’m thrilled about it.”
    “Maybe not, but you’re being very good.”
    “Come on, we’re missing the start of the movie.” I pulled her out.
    Inside, I bought tickets, drinks, and a big box of popcorn. I gave Janice the box of popcorn to hold, and then settled down with my arm on the back of her chair. The movie was a detective story with lots of chase scenes and beautiful women. It was only so-so. I tried to liven it up by making comments. Once or twice I got dirty looks from other people, but Janice seemed to think my one-liners were better than the movie’s dialogue.
    When it was over, we walked slowly back to the car, my arm around her waist.
    “Like it?” I asked, looking down at her.
    She matched her steps to mine and let her head rest against my arm. “I like being with you.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yes.”
    At the car, I took her keys and opened the driver’s door. “Want me to drive?”
    “Giving up just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?”
    “You’re chicken.”
    She reached up to put her arms around my neck. “Shane, sweetie, if I were going to let anybody drive it would be you.”
    I kissed her, and then let her get behind the wheel.
    When I had gone to the other side, I stretched out. “Okay, babe, drive me home.”
    She laughed and started the car. In a minute we were arguing about whether the hero of the movie was hard-boiled (her idea) or merely wooden (my opinion).
    At my house, Janice stopped the car and nestled against me. I kissed her a couple of times, and she snuggled closer. “So tell me all about why you don’t want to talk about the basketball game,” she said softly.
    The glow from a streetlight allowed me to look into her sparkling eyes. “That was below the belt.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I got kicked off the team two months ago.”
    “Oh. Sore spot, huh?”
    “Coach didn’t like me.”
    “How come?”
    “I missed a couple of practices. And he said I wasn’t trying hard enough.”
    “Tough.”
    “Just as well. I didn’t have time, what with my job and all.”
    “You have a job?”
    “Had.”
    “You don’t have it now?”
    “No. I quit. It was boring.”
    “So, are you going to the game?”
    “No.”
    “You could go with me.”
    “Yeah, I guess I could.”
    “I have to go now. Call me tomorrow?”
    “Yeah, sure.” I kissed her again before getting out of the car and watching as she drove off. Compared to Marietta, she was just a kid. But a nice kid. She made me feel good.
    But I didn’t feel so good when I walked into my room and Sandy said, “You told Mom you’d already studied for the test Monday.”
    “So?”
    “You haven’t, have you?”
    “You need to ask?”
    “Why do you lie?”
    “I suppose you told her I lied?”
    “No, I didn’t say anything. But if you’re planning on cheating again, I might. You’re only cheating yourself.”
    “They should hire you to give lectures. ‘Now, boys, you must all be perfect like I am, and then everyone will be happy’.”
    “Shane—”
    “Just shut up and leave me alone, okay? I don’t need you or anybody else telling me how to run my life!”
    Sandy stared at me for a moment and then walked out of the room. I got ready for bed.
    Neither of us spoke again that night, or the next morning. Sandy went down for breakfast, but I stayed in bed.
    The first thing I knew, my dad came up to talk to me.
    “I ran into Alex Kaufmann last night at the bowling alley.”
    I buried my face in the pillow.
    “He told me he fired you. Said your attitude the last few months has been getting worse and worse. You can imagine how stupid I felt not having a clue what he was talking about. I felt like an idiot. I guess you didn’t think you needed to mention it, eh? Thought you could just keep lying to us and we wouldn’t fiTo nd out. What were you going to do? Go into hiding? Or did you think you’d find another job. You’re really a prize son, aren’t you!”
    “Get off my back!”