[MD1, Kate’s house, 8:00PM]

Justin was sitting in the living room, feet up on the coffee table, smelly sweat socks and all, drinking orange juice straight from the carton, and not worrying about the ring of condensation it was leaving on the end table and basically enjoying the freedom of Mom not being home. Well, enjoying it as much as possible with a geometry test hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles. After careful consideration, he had come to the conclusion that geometry was entirely useless to most people, and should therefore be an elective and not a requirement. Unfortunately, the Fredericksburg school board was not so enlightened.

Normally, he would have asked Dillon for help. His brother might be two years younger, but he’d never met a math problem he couldn’t solve. It all evens out in the end, though, Justin thought. Dillon couldn’t kick a field goal, make a slap shot or field a fly ball is his life depended on it. But anyway, Dillon had been acting like a total jerk lately, and since Justin didn’t feel like putting up with his attitude, he was determined to struggle through his homework on his own.

A sound vaguely reminiscent of an elephant stampede alerted him to the fact that Dillon was coming downstairs. How such a puny little runt could make so much noise was beyond his comprehension. Maybe it had something to do with geometry, because that seemed to be beyond his comprehension, too. It was the first time Dillon had been out of his room since they got home from school, and that had suited Justin very nicely indeed.

"Hey Fart-face," Justin said.

Dillon flipped him the bird, made for the hall closet and put on his jacket.

"Where do you think you’re going?"

"None of your damned business."

"I gotta tell Mom something when she calls."

"Tell her to go.." Dillon began. "Tell her whatever you want."

"I’m not gonna lie to her to save your sorry ass," Justin said.

"Whatever." Dillon walked out of the house and slammed the door.

"Aw, shit," Justin muttered.

*****

[Fredericksburg Public Golf Course, 9:45PM]

It was a regular beach party. They had spread a blanket out on the sand trap on the fourteenth hole. They had a cooler of beer and Jason had brought along a bottle of Scotch he’d snagged from his dad’s closet - he couldn’t exactly say anything about it being missing since he wasn’t supposed to have it either. The only thing missing was a bonfire, which was out of the question since that would be sure to get them caught.

Dillon had been invited to these parties before, but he’d always bowed out, more worried about getting busted than hanging with the ‘in’ crowd. This time he’d been the one to suggest it. He was mad, and he didn’t know what to do about it, and this seemed to be as good a solution as any he had been able to think of. And if he got caught out here and got in trouble for it, so what? Who had the right to punish him? His mother? Yeah, right.

"You want another beer, kiddo," Jessie asked. At fifteen, she was the oldest of the group and took great pleasure in reminding everyone of that fact.

"No thanks," Dillon said. "I.. uh.. I still got some left." Actually, he’d only managed to force down a couple of sips so far. He watched Jessie open a can and chug half of it. Must be an acquired taste, he thought. He took another sip, just to prove that he wasn’t a wimp. Laying back on the cool sand, he looked up at the outline of the trees at the edge of the golf course against the dark sky.

Beth picked up Dillon’s beer can, gave it a shake and grinned. "Sorry," she said. "I should have had Will bring along something a little more suited to beginners." Beth’s brother, Will, rounded out the group of five ‘beach-goers.’

Dillon glared at her. She was the only one in the group in his class - the others were all sophomores. He had never really noticed her before, but when Jessie, Jason and Will had gotten into an argument over something that happened in their English class earlier, he’d had no choice but to talk to her, and as it turned out, she was easy to talk to and she understood what he was saying.

"So, do you remember him," she asked.

"Who? My dad," Dillon said. "Sort of. I was pretty young when they split."

"And he was never around?"

"No," Dillon said, as if she had missed the entire point of the conversation. "Guess I never really thought much about it, ya know. But now, I wonder.."

"What?"

"Well, if she lied about seeing him.."

"Technically, she didn’t lie about it. She just didn’t mention it."

"Same difference," Jason put in. "Who’re we talking about?"

"His mom," Beth said.

"Oh, man. She’s hot," Will said. That earned him a kick in the ribs from Jessie.

"Ew," Jason said. "She’s, like, old."

"So?"

"So what if I said that your mom was hot?"

"That’s just gross," Will said. "Have you ever met my mother?"

"That is completely beside the point," Beth said. "Would you two just shut up? We were trying to have a conversation." She turned so she was facing Dillon with her back to the others, creating a barrier. "I think I see what you mean. If she didn’t tell you about it this time, maybe there have been other times. Like maybe he tried to keep in touch, and she prevented it."

Dillon nodded. "Or he didn’t. Either way, it sucks." He contemplated the can of beer sitting in the sand next to him, picked it up and finished it off in two gulps. It seemed to go down easier if it went down faster. He held up the empty can. "Hey, Jessie!"

*****

[Kate’s house, 12:30AM]

Justin hadn’t exactly been waiting up for Dillon. He’d gone to sleep. It was just that he’d decided to sleep on the sofa, where he would be sure to hear his dear brother come in so he could have a few words with him. Actually, what he really needed was a swift kick in the seat of the pants, and as Justin had spent the evening waiting for his mom to call to check up on things and trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say when she did, he’d decided that it was entirely possible that he might do just that.

Fortunately, she hadn’t called, so he’d been worrying for nothing, and when he really thought about it, it made sense. He knew that she hadn’t slept the night before. She’d gotten home at four in the morning, packed a suitcase for the trip to Miami, and left at seven. Those clues, combined with her mood, gave him a pretty good idea of what was going on. Coming home at that hour meant she’d had a fight with Josh, which was definitely not good. That she was brooding instead of fuming meant it was her fault, and she knew it. That she had acknowledged that fact to herself so soon meant that she would probably do something to rectify the situation as soon as possible, so he decided not to worry about it too much, at least not yet.

Justin was old enough to remember a little more about his father than Dillon did - or maybe it was just that he had been old enough at the time to understand what was going on. She had been terrified of him, particularly in those last few weeks, when Grandpa Jimmy had been in the hospital and just after he died. Justin knew very well that in some ways his mother wasn’t nearly as tough as she pretended to be, and he was pretty sure that Josh knew that, too. That was part of the reason he liked him.

But there was more to it than that. Sometimes, Justin remembered what it had been like when his parents were together, and he wondered if she’d ever really been happy. Geometry might be beyond him, but simple arithmetic wasn’t, and it gave him a good idea of why they had gotten married in the first place. And sometimes he worried that she might, in some small way, hold it against him, and he wondered, if she didn’t, then why not? But the point was, that Josh seemed to make her happy, and that was a good thing. So if Dillon was going to start acting like a jerk and making life difficult for her, then he, Justin, was going to do everything he possibly could to counteract whatever influence Dillon might have on things.

He woke up to the sound of the front door slamming and looked at the clock. Well after midnight. Just great.

"’Bout time you got home," he said, sitting up and turning toward the hallway where Dillon was standing. Dillon didn’t say anything, but Justin could tell a lot just from the way he could barely stand up. "Aw, man. You’re drunk?"

"So?" Dillon took a couple steps toward the stairs and had to lean against the wall to keep from falling down.

"So," Justin said, "Mom’s going to kill both of us if she finds out about this." He got up off the sofa, took Dillon’s arm and helped him up the stairs.

"Then don’t tell her. I can walk without your help."

"Sure, you were doing a real good job of it a minute ago. Come on, man, what’s going on with you? I mean, I’ve done some pretty dumb things, but you just topped every one of them."

"Nothing," Dillon said. They reached the top of the stairs. Dillon went into his bedroom and slammed the door in Justin’s face.

"Oh yeah? Well, to hell with you, too," he said to the closed door. He went into his own room, flopped down on the bed and punched his pillow. "Aw, shit," he muttered.


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