“Your mother’s going to go home for the first treatment,” he says as he folds the papers and tries to fit them in his shirt pocket. Of course they’re way too thick and he looks spastic when they hang up on the edge of the pocket. “To be with Nick. The chemo session may very well be delayed.”
He’s not telling the whole truth either, but now I know better. Thank you, Meredith.
It turns out he’s more right than he knows. After we sit and kill time for an hour in Doctor Morley’s waiting room while the lab work is processed, my blood is so screwed up they can’t use the first chemo appointment. We go home in Dad’s car with Sheriff Jessup’s cruiser a silent shadow behind us down Route 360. He probably has to report to the court that we’ve complied.
Before my “count” straightens out, that idiot Walker finally gets his act together. The appeal order gets entered with a stay on the government’s authority to force the chemotherapy on us. On me.
Despite Mom’s secret plan, we don’t actually go to Mexico in October. Walker tells my mom it would be a crime for her to leave the country while the appeal of the neglect charge is pending. They can drag her back if she flees the jurisdiction. Extradition. I have to go to the dictionary to look it up.
While my parents and Walker are debating how to prolong the delay of chemotherapy during the appeal, I catch the flu. Because of my lousy white blood count, I’m shipped off to the hospital until enough antibiotics can be pumped into me to avoid a new infection. Although my parents fall all over themselves blaming each other, it doesn’t even bother me because of how I catch the flu. Meredith, of course.
Leonard Yowell decides to throw a Halloween party. Which ticks Mack off big-time. I guess he wanted to be the king of Halloween parties. He says he’s been busy at school with a new club and that classes are harder in tenth grade. Plus we had that fight over his watching out for my interests with Meredith, so we haven’t talked much.
I refuse to go begging for friends. I’d have trouble telling who was just feeling sorry for me. Even people like Holden who are good judges of character would have trouble.
About the party. The Yowells have way more money than the Petrianos, or anyone in town that I know for that matter, which means the food’ll be way better. And there’ll be more space for more people. That could be interesting or a hassle depending on which kids Leonard invites. If he’s using the whole shebang as an excuse to impress the preppies, then it could be more than touchy.
Preppies are really the most dangerous group in any high school. Adults don’t get this. It’s like camouflage. Preppies have been taught good manners, but their disdain for their own kind sometimes fools you into thinking they’re in sync with you, when all they’re really doing is getting a few laughs at your expense. Barracudas. Like Stradlater, Holden’s roommate at Pencey, who combs his hair all over you like you were nothing, while he pretends he likes hanging out with you. Borrows your jacket and then stretches it with his muscled shoulders, just to impress a girl he has no business messing around with in the first place. When people like that—ones who’re used to being the leaders—are being generous and funny, they’re actually planning their next meal. And if the right friends show up, you’re likely to be the appetizer.
For me—outside of Mack having his feelings hurt—the thing about Yowell’s party is to make sure Meredith’s not too impressed with any of that glitter. It wouldn’t be in character, but stranger things have happened. I certainly can’t claim to understand girls.
What saves me is that Joe comes home the weekend before the party. Perfect timing as usual. When he shows up unannounced, Mom starts right in sobbing. If I didn’t know her better, I’d think she’s been medicating herself when he’s not there. After hugs all around, Nick asks if we can have pizza. It’s a never-ending thing with Nick. He must have a cheese deficiency or something. Joe volunteers to go pick it up. How useful would that be, to have your license so you could go just hop in the car and pick up pizza whenever you wanted?
“Come on, old man,” Joe says to me.
Nick yells, “Family road trip.”
From the way everyone laughs, I can tell that’s going to be a joke from now until forever. Dad tells him no, he needs to stay and set the table. Which ticks him off. He kicks a chair and disappears before they can punish him. Houseboat cabins are good for that kind of escape. Duck into an opening and you could be anywhere. No long echoing hallways where angry screams chase after you as you leave.
Before pulling off in the Subaru Joe changes all the settings, the mirrors, the seat, the radio station. Reggae explodes from the dashboard.
“Whoa.” I twist the dial back. “A little on the loud side.”
“Man, are you in a pissy mood too? I won’t come home if everyone’s going to be creepy.”
I don’t want to argue. I’m glad to see him—really relieved, honestly—because I have a zillion questions for him about Meredith. But it’s tough when someone just sails into your life when it’s convenient for them.
“I’m not in a bad mood. It’s too fucking loud, that’s all.”
“Fucking too bad,” he says and twists the dial back.
I won’t deign to answer that. If he’s turned into a jerk, I don’t care. He’s the one who has to live with a jerk, not me.
At the pizza place, our order isn’t ready, so we sit at an empty table. Face-to-face, like a stare-down contest, except neither one of us looks at the other. We wait. And wait. Joe’s usually like Dad, patient. But his knee’s jiggling and he’s squirming around, a sure sign that something’s up with him.
He apologizes first. “Look, I’m sorry for losing my cool. Music’s music. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. You probably feel awful and I’m attacking you.” He frowns like he’s thinking really hard and tilts his head at me. “How do you feel?”
“Tired all the time. Sick to my stomach a lot. But right this minute, I’m just glad to be here.”
“You are all right, kiddo. All fucking right.” He lays the two twenty-dollar bills Dad gave him on the table and smoothes them out. “So what’s happening at Essex County High? Who’s pregnant this semester?”
“I’m not there.”
“Jeez, I forgot. You’re probably acing the tests without the lectures and the teachers to confuse you.”
I smile because he’s so right.
“How did the Catcher in the Rye unit go?”
“I aced it.”
He punches my arm. I wince and pull back, cradling the arm.
“God, Daniel.” He stands up and rushes over to my side of the table. “I am such a jerk.”
I’m laughing like a hyena. When he realizes it’s a setup, he snarls and spins on his heel like I have cooties.
“Landon,” the girl at the register yells across the room. “Landon, your order’s up.”
Joe starts laughing with me. “Same old Daniel. You turd.”
On the way home he flicks the radio off altogether. “Tell me about this bridge queen from Ohio. You kiss her yet?”
I nod and grin. “She’s from Charlottesville, actually.”
“Way to go. Anything else you want to tell me?”
“Actually… I’m gonna see her next Saturday at Leonard’s Halloween bash.”
“Senator Yowell’s letting loose some of his cash for a non-Republican function?”
“Yeah, wild, huh? And Mom’s letting me go. But that’s one of the things I wanted to ask you about. What if Meredith’s impressed with the Yowells? The big house, the pool, you know.”
“If she’s that shallow, let her go, man.”