One night Deano tells them about Mark. See your man? He acts hard but he’s really a posh cunt like youse lads. He went to your school then the priests kicked him out for dealing hash. Now he’s stuck with us bunch of scumbags. But it’s good, see, cos he’s got ambitions. He’s like you, he says to Barry, always thinkin.
The deal is they hand over a cut of their Ritalin sales to Mark, and once a fortnight they buy other stuff from him for a special price. Their first consignment is a few E’s and some coke but mostly the mental weed. Carl and Barry are supposed to sell it but they end up smoking most of it themselves. It fries your brain, it’s like on a hot day when the tar on the road melts and your feet get stuck in it or like when you have a shower and the bathroom mirror gets all fogged up, like you’ll be talking to someone and then all of a sudden it’ll be like half an hour later and instead of fractions the teacher will be going on about exports and it will be a different teacher and you will be in a different room without knowing how you got there.
It’s good that they have something new to sell though because there are serious problems with the diet pill market. Some of the junior school parents have got suspicious about how hyperactive their kids have been lately, and started tightening up on the prescriptions. Carl and Barry’s supply has been cut in half, but it doesn’t even matter because the girls aren’t buying anyway. Why not? They never stay interested in anything for more than two weeks, Barry says, that’s the problem with girls as a customer base. He tries ringing a couple of them up offering them coke but this just seems to freak them out. Now a couple of them buy like one E a week and the rest totally ignore Carl and Barry.
And Lori ignores them too. She does not return any of Carl’s phone calls, she’s never in the places she used to be. Then her friend Janine tells him Lori left the Hallowe’en Hop with some guy.
What? Carl says.
They are in the church car park. Janine still wants to buy pills. It’s dark, the church windows are dark, there are no cars around.
This guy Daniel, Janine says. She looks up at Carl through eyelashes covered in black shit. Carl searches his head for Daniel but he cannot find anything, his head pounds like it is splitting in two.
Well, what did you expect? The girl twirls her hair with a bony hand. You stood her up. You don’t do that to a girl like Lori and just expect her to forgive you.
I was stuck in my house, Carl mumbles.
I mean, she’s got guys queuing up to go out with her, Janine says.
Go out with her? Carl’s mind churns like the propeller of a boat caught in weeds, trying to catch all the little pieces of that night and glue them back together, the messages she sent him saying come and meet me, it was right here in the church car park –
I thought she just wanted to buy pills, he blurts to Janine. She laughs, a film laugh, with her head back, ha-ha-ha. You don’t know much about girls, she says. Then she pulls in closer to him so her tits are just touching his arm and her voice drops. I could teach you, she says, playing with the cord of his hoodie. But Carl is still thinking of what she said about Lori and after a second Janine pulls back, stares at him with eyes like a dog you have kicked. Then, She was with him, she says, stabbing the words like a knife. He’s been texting her. He sends her poems.
With little shuffling steps, Carl turns away, facing into the dark. The girl dances round in front of him, grabs his hands and cries, Oh Carl, why do you even care what Lori does? She’s a child, she doesn’t understand what men want. But Carl doesn’t move. He is staring at the concrete ground, where the no-faced boy is kissing Lori, going to all the places Carl had been, shoving his hands under her shirt, sticking his fingers into her box, flooding her little white fist with jism… Janine steps back. Her hands are still wrapped around his, he can feel her eyes on him like they’re in the distance. In a cooler voice she says, Do you want to get her back?
He raises his head. He is so angry, for a second she is Daniel and his arms pump with the message of grabbing him and tearing him up into little pieces. But then it is gone and his arms are empty and Carl is broken.
Janine reaches out, she strokes his hair and then she says, You really screwed up at the Hop, Carl. That’s not the only problem, either. Her parents found out she’d been lying to them. All the time she was with you she told them she was with me. Then my mom met her mom at the deli and told her she hadn’t been in my house for weeks. She got into major shit. Her daddy likes to know exactly where his little princess is and who she’s with at all times. I don’t think he’d be too happy about you, daddies don’t like you, do they, Carl? He follows the movement of her head, wagging at him like a sad dog. Anyhow, she’s basically grounded. So even if she did want to see you, it would be pretty hard. She smoothes back his hair with gentle fingers. Don’t be sad. If you want me to, I can talk to her for you. I could at least tell her how sorry you are. Would you like me to do that, Carl?
Carl nods. She puts her arms around him and gives him a comforting hug. Oh Carl, she sighs, like a teacher with a favourite but always-naughty child. Carl has never been that child, he has always been the one they are afraid of. Janine leans back to gaze at him, then she plants a little cheer-up kiss on his cheek. I’ll talk to her, she promises. Everything will be all right. Then she chucks his chin. Did you bring my dolly mixtures?
He takes the baggie from his pocket and hands it to her. She unfastens her purse, then says, like they are two people just come out of church standing on the steps talking about the weather, Lori says you and her had an arrangement.
Carl shifts from foot to foot without saying anything.
Oh Carl, she says again, squeezing herself against him. Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you. And bending upwards, she gives him another little kiss, a friendly mom-type kiss on his cheeks, and then one on his nose, then on his chin, his eyes, his neck, until accidentally one lands on his lips, which are open, and then accidentally she does it again, and accidentally they are accidentally locked tight and wet together, his mouth full of hers, there on the steps in the dark, just like in his imagination Lori’s mouth is full of the mouth of the faceless Daniel. But soon Carl will find his face, and then he will be sorry.
With posters for the Christmas concert everywhere, Audition Fever has swept the school. At lunch break, after class, the halls are filled with parps, twangs, thumps of varying degrees of musicality, the rec rooms clotted with knots of boys dreaming up routines that range from opera to gangsta to a new form of Wagnerian tropicalia invented by second year’s Caetano Diaz, which he has dubbed ‘apocalypso’. The Seabrook Christmas concert may be small potatoes in the grand scheme of things, but as any modern student of fame knows, there is no platform so low that it does not make you look slightly bigger than the next guy. Competition is fierce, and the lowest common denominator does not go unplumbed. Among the rehearsing voices, a surprising number can be heard performing more saccharine versions of already toxically gloopy ballads – ‘Flying Without Wings’, ‘I Believe I Can Fly’, ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ and others, flying-related and not. Credibility is not the issue for these boys that it might have been for previous generations. A lot of contentious arguments have been resolved in the last decade, a lot of old ideas swept away; it is now universally acknowledged that celebrity is the one goal truly worth pursuing. Magazine covers, marketing deals, artificially whitened smiles, waving from behind barriers at the raving anonymous multitude – this is the zenith of a world now uncluttered by spirituality, and anything you do to get there is considered legitimate.