The Freshmen- No. 10

Chronicle 10

“The Big Man On Campus: Evermore”

December 1980,
Rarotonga International Airport,
Rarotonga, Galician Pacific Provinces, Kingdom of Galicia

Tommy Rydell never wanted to see another peanut again.

He didn't know exactly how many little bags of peanuts he'd eaten since leaving Provo. He knew there had been at least six. Possibly seven. He'd stopped counting somewhere along the way.

At first they had been good.

Then they had been acceptable.

Then they had simply been something to eat.

Now the mere sight of the little red-and-white packet sticking out of Jason's shirt pocket made Tommy feel sick.

"I'm hungry," said Tommy.

Jason looked at him.

"You ate the entire flight."

"I ate peanuts."

"You ate a lot of peanuts."

"That's why I don't want peanuts."

Kathy walked beside them, carrying one bag over her shoulder while Jason dragged two suitcases behind him.

"This is why," said Kathy, "we should pay for the direct flight."

Jason sighed.

Tommy looked at his father.

He knew that sigh.

"I heard you the first ninety-nine times."

"Then maybe the hundredth time will work."

"It costs more."

"Yes, Jason. That's generally what 'pay extra' means."

Jason shook his head.

"We got here."

"Eventually."

"We always get here."

"Eventually."

Tommy didn't bother involving himself.

He'd heard some variation of this argument every Christmas for as long as he could remember.

The Rydells had been travelling to Evermore every Christmas break since Tommy was five. Jason's parents had lived there for more than twenty years, and the annual pilgrimage across the Pacific had become as much a Rydell Christmas tradition as presents, turkey and Jason complaining about how much everything cost.

Tommy hadn't missed a trip since the first one.

Neither had Bowie, except for the Christmas after he was born, when Kathy had decided that bringing an infant halfway across the Pacific was an act of insanity.

Looking at Bowie now, Tommy wasn't entirely convinced travelling with him at four was any more sensible.

"Bowie," said Kathy.

Bowie looked up.

"Where are your shoes?"

Bowie looked down.

Everyone else looked down too.

He wasn't wearing any.

Tommy stared at him.

"Where'd your shoes go?"

Bowie shrugged.

"I dunno."

"How do you lose both shoes?"

Another shrug.

Tommy then noticed something else.

"Those aren't even the same socks."

Bowie looked down again.

His left sock was blue.

His right sock was white with little red stripes.

Bowie wiggled his toes.

"I got socks."

Tommy laughed.

Kathy didn't.

"You had matching socks when we left Provo."

"I got these ones."

"Yes," said Kathy. "I can see that."

"Maybe his shoes are on the plane," said Jason.

Kathy glared at him.

"Maybe?"

"I'll ask."

"Jason, we're not leaving this airport without his shoes."

"We can't leave the airport anyway."

That, unfortunately, was true.

They still had another flight.

Rarotonga wasn't Evermore. It was merely the place where they had to wait several hours before getting on the much smaller plane that would finally take them there.

The airport was familiar enough to Tommy that he barely paid attention to it anymore. Rarotonga was under Galician control, one of those places scattered around the Pacific that Tommy knew mostly because his father occasionally complained about having to change money there.

Tommy yawned.

"I'm hungry."

Jason stared at him.

"You already said that."

"I'm still hungry."

"We'll eat when we get to Evermore."

"That's hours from now."

"You'll survive."

Tommy looked toward one of the airport shops.

There was food there.

Actual food.

Or at least something that wasn't peanuts.

"Can I get something?"

"Not at airport prices."

"Dad."

"I'm serious."

"I'm starving."

"You are not starving."

"I feel like I'm starving."

"That's different."

Kathy reached into her purse.

Jason immediately looked at her.

"Kathy."

"Oh, give him something."

"We're going to eat later."

"He's fourteen."

"So?"

"So he's fourteen."

Tommy nodded.

That sounded like a perfectly good argument to him.

Kathy pulled out some money and handed it over.

"Don't spend all of it."

"Thanks, Mom."

Jason looked betrayed.

"You know how much they charge in there?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you encouraging this?"

"Because I don't want to listen to him say he's hungry for the next three hours."

Tommy smiled.

"Love you too, Mom."

"Go."

Tommy happily left before Jason could reclaim the money.

He walked through the terminal, still tired enough that everything around him seemed slightly slower than normal. People dragged luggage behind them. Families slept across rows of seats. A little girl cried somewhere near one of the gates. An announcement came over the speakers in a language Tommy didn't understand before being repeated in English.

He passed a large window overlooking the runway.

Palm trees stood beyond it.

That helped.

After hours trapped inside airplanes and airports, seeing palm trees meant they were getting close.

Evermore.

Beaches.

Warm weather.

No school.

No football practice.

No track conditioning.

No Chloe.

Tommy slowed slightly.

He didn't want to think about Chloe.

Especially not after finding out about Robert.

He was over Chloe.

He had Cheryl.

He had Shiloh.

He was doing very well.

Extremely well.

Tommy continued walking.

Then something else caught his attention.

A statue stood near the centre of the terminal.

Tommy had seen it before.

He'd probably seen it every Christmas since he was five.

He'd never really looked at it.

This time, with nothing better to do and several hours left before the next flight, he stopped.

The statue depicted a man standing upright with one hand resting against his chest and the other pointing forward. Below him was a plaque.

CORY RICHTER

Tommy knew the name.

Everybody knew the name.

Richter was the man who had "created" Coruna.

At least that was how Tommy had always heard it described.

He leaned closer and began reading.

The plaque told the familiar story.

After Napoleon fell, the Spanish Kingdom collapsed with him. Millions of Spanish refugees fled across the Atlantic, with huge numbers eventually arriving around the Panamanian isthmus. The region was already divided between numerous small republics, many Scottish and some Spanish, and the sudden arrival of so many refugees turned existing disputes into wars that dragged on for decades.

Tommy kept reading.

Cory Richter eventually arrived with a combined Evorian and Cascadian force. The Scots were driven from the isthmus for good and Coruna emerged from the fighting, eventually becoming the country responsible for administering the Panama Canal.

That had made Coruna rich.

It had also made Coruna important.

It hadn't necessarily made Coruna secure.

Even more than a century later, arguments continued over whether the country should exist at all, who really had a claim to the isthmus and whether the Scots had been expelled from land that had rightfully belonged to them.

Coruna, in turn, continued to regard Cascadia and Evoria as the countries that had ensured its survival.

Tommy stared at the plaque.

It all seemed stupid.

Millions of people crossing an ocean.

Scottish republics.

Spanish republics.

Wars.

Armies.

People fighting over who got to live where.

All because nobody could figure out how to share a strip of land.

Why can't they just get along?

The answer seemed obvious to Tommy.

Just stop fighting.

Talk to each other.

Figure something out.

Nobody had to kill anybody.

He stared at Richter for another few seconds.

Then his stomach growled.

Tommy put his hands over it.

"Yeah."

He'd had enough history.

He started walking toward the store again.

Coruna was thousands of kilometres away anyway.

Tommy had never been there.

He didn't know anybody there.

He doubted he ever would.

When am I ever going to care about Coruna?

He entered the store.

His eyes immediately landed on the cheapest food available.

Peanuts.

Tommy stared at them.

"By Jove."

Tommy stared at the peanuts.

There were hundreds of them.

Little bags stacked on top of each other in a basket beside the counter, with even more boxes piled behind it.

Worse, they were cheap.

Really cheap.

Tommy picked up one of the bags and looked at the price.

He frowned.

Then he looked at the other food.

Then back at the peanuts.

"Why are these so cheap?"

The man behind the counter looked up from his newspaper.

"Because I have too many."

Tommy looked at the mountain again.

"Why do you have so many?"

"They keep giving them to me."

"Who?"

The man shrugged.

"Airlines. Suppliers. Everybody. I don't care anymore. I need them gone."

Tommy understood.

He also understood that, economically, there was only one sensible decision.

The peanuts were barely more expensive than what he'd pay for them at a convenience store back in Provo.

At an airport.

Tommy could buy several bags, still have most of his mother's money left and have enough food to hold him over until Evermore.

It was rational.

It was responsible.

It was exactly the kind of decision his father would make.

Tommy put the peanuts back.

He couldn't do it.

He'd eaten enough peanuts to last the rest of his life.

He walked farther into the store.

Then he saw it.

A sandwich.

Not merely a sandwich.

A giant sandwich.

It sat wrapped in plastic inside a refrigerated display case, stuffed with meat, cheese, lettuce and tomatoes. It looked like it had been designed for three people.

Tommy looked at the price.

His enthusiasm diminished.

Almost everything his mother had given him.

He looked back at the peanuts.

Then at the sandwich.

Then at the peanuts.

Then at the sandwich.

Tommy opened the refrigerator.

He grabbed the sandwich.

Some things were worth paying for.

He found a bag of chips next.

Then a drink.

By the time he reached the counter, Tommy was carrying enough food to make his father's inevitable lecture considerably longer.

The shopkeeper put down his newspaper and began ringing everything up.

Tommy put the money Kathy had given him onto the counter.

The shopkeeper counted it.

Then looked at Tommy.

"Not enough."

Tommy frowned.

"What?"

The shopkeeper told him the total.

Tommy looked at the money.

Then at the sandwich.

Then at the chips.

Then at the drink.

"That's highway robbery."

The shopkeeper shrugged.

Tommy waited.

The shopkeeper stared at him.

Tommy stared back.

Apparently his accusation of highway robbery had failed to initiate negotiations.

"How much am I short?"

The shopkeeper told him.

Tommy sighed.

He looked at the chips.

He could put them back.

Or the drink.

He definitely wasn't putting the sandwich back.

Tommy reached for the chips.

Another bill suddenly appeared on the counter.

Tommy stopped.

The shopkeeper took it.

Tommy looked at the money.

Then he turned around.

A girl stood behind him.

She looked about his age, maybe a little older. She wore an oversized sweater that seemed far too large for her and had a smile on her face that made Tommy temporarily forget about the sandwich.

Tommy looked back at the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper finished counting the money.

Apparently he didn't care where it came from.

Tommy looked at the girl again.

"You paid for my chips."

"...and your drink," said the girl.

Tommy smiled.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Tommy picked up his food.

He hesitated.

Normally, this was where he would leave.

Instead he looked at the girl again.

She was pretty.

Very pretty.

Tommy suddenly remembered that he was on vacation.

Evermore.

Beaches.

Pretty girls.

Terry had been right.

"Do you want to sit with me?"

The girl smiled.

"Sure."

Tommy's smile widened.

"I'm Tommy."

"Veerle."

Tommy paused.

"Veerle?"

"Veerle."

He tried it himself.

"Veerle."

She smiled.

"Good enough."

Tommy laughed.

They walked away from the counter together.

The shopkeeper picked up his newspaper again.

Behind him sat hundreds of bags of peanuts.

Still unsold.

Tommy and Veerle found two seats near one of the large windows overlooking the runway.

Tommy immediately unwrapped his sandwich.

It was every bit as large as it had looked in the store.

Veerle stared at it.

"You're going to eat all of that?"

"That's the plan."

Tommy took a large bite.

After several hours of peanuts, the sandwich tasted like the greatest thing ever created.

Veerle sat back in her chair.

Tommy looked at her again.

Now that he had food in his stomach, he could concentrate on other things.

Like her sweater.

It was enormous.

The sleeves extended past her wrists and the bottom nearly reached her knees.

"What's with the monstrous sweater?"

Veerle looked down at herself.

"Monstrous?"

"It's huge."

"I had to buy it."

"Why?"

"They wouldn't let me on the plane."

Tommy stopped chewing.

"What?"

"My flight out of Los Angeles. They wouldn't let me board wearing what I was wearing."

Tommy looked at the sweater again.

Then at Veerle.

"What were you wearing?"

Veerle smiled.

"I'm not showing you."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the answer you're getting."

Tommy grinned.

Now he really wanted to know.

"What was wrong with it?"

"Apparently too much of me was showing."

"How much?"

Veerle laughed.

"I'm still not showing you."

Tommy took another bite of his sandwich.

"Can't blame me for asking."

"I can."

"Okay. You can. Doesn't mean I'm sorry."

Veerle shook her head, still smiling.

Tommy opened his chips.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

Tommy nodded.

"I'm fourteen."

"I figured you were younger."

Tommy stopped.

"Why?"

Veerle laughed again.

"I'm kidding."

"Oh."

Tommy decided he liked her.

"Where are you going?"

"Orville."

Tommy's eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Really."

"I've heard about Orville."

"I'm sure you have."

"Parties. Beaches. Weather. Dinosaurs."

Veerle raised an eyebrow.

"Dinosaurs?"

"The movies make it look cool."

Veerle's expression changed slightly.

"It isn't really like the movies."

"There aren't dinosaurs?"

"There are dinosaurs."

"Then the movies didn't lie."

Veerle sighed.

"The dinosaurs aren't there for tourists."

Tommy continued eating.

"What do you mean?"

"They live there."

"I know."

"No. I mean they're people. Lizardfolk. Most of them aren't running around having adventures or doing whatever you've seen in movies. Most of them work service jobs."

Tommy slowed his chewing.

Veerle continued.

"Hotels. Restaurants. Shops. Cleaning. Tourism. Anything where somebody wants a friendly Lizardfolk face greeting visitors."

"Why?"

"Because they're cheap."

Tommy frowned.

"The Lizardfolk?"

"Their labour."

"Oh."

"They're usually paid less. They don't get the same opportunities everybody else does. They're the ones tourists see everywhere, so people go home thinking Orville is some wonderful place where humans and Lizardfolk all live together."

"They don't?"

"They do. That doesn't mean they're equal."

Tommy nodded slowly.

He understood the words.

He wasn't entirely sure he understood the problem.

Veerle leaned back.

"...and then there's everybody fighting about religion."

"People fight about religion in Provo."

"Probably not like Orville."

Tommy shrugged.

"Maybe."

"The old families are religious. Very religious. They own a lot. They run a lot. Then you have the university students and everyone around them who are much more liberal."

"That's where you're going?"

"I live there."

"Oh."

"I'm starting university there in the fall."

Tommy smiled.

"So you know where all the parties are."

Veerle stared at him.

Tommy smiled back.

"That's what you got from everything I just said?"

"No."

A pause.

"Mostly."

Veerle laughed despite herself.

"You're impossible."

"I've been told that."

Tommy took another bite.

"So what else is wrong with Orville?"

"Florland."

"I've heard of Florland."

"Everyone's heard of Florland."

"The waffles."

Veerle closed her eyes.

"What?"

"The Waffle Wars."

"Yes, Tommy. The Waffle Wars."

"That's a funny name."

"It's less funny when you're there."

Tommy stopped smiling.

Veerle looked toward the window.

"The fighting in Belgium keeps getting worse. More refugees keep coming over. Flemish. Walloon. People who don't care what side they're supposed to be on anymore. They just want out."

"Why Orville?"

"Because Florland takes them."

"That's good."

"It can be. It also means more people need somewhere to live. More people need jobs. More people arrive angry about what happened back home. Then they bring some of those arguments with them."

Tommy nodded.

He took another bite of his sandwich.

Orville still sounded cool.

Maybe not everything Veerle had described.

...but the rest of it.

The university.

The parties.

The beaches.

The dinosaurs.

Especially the dinosaurs.

"I still want to go."

Veerle looked at him.

"After everything I just told you?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I want to see it."

Veerle studied him for a moment.

"You really are fourteen."

Tommy frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"It means something."

Veerle smiled.

"I'm not telling you."

Tommy shook his head and returned to his sandwich.

Apparently Veerle enjoyed not telling him things.

"What about you?" she asked. "Are you going anywhere after Evermore?"

Tommy shook his head.

"No."

"So you don't fly anywhere else after stopping in Evermore."

"Yeah."

"You're lucky."

Tommy looked at her.

"Why?"

"The Evorians at least still care about freedom. They don't spend all their time fighting it like the Florlanders do."

"You're lucky."

Tommy looked at her.

"Why?"

"The Evorians at least still care about freedom. They don't spend all their time fighting it like the Florlanders do."

Tommy nodded.

He supposed that was good.

He'd never thought much about who controlled Evermore or what they believed. Evermore was where his grandparents lived. It was beaches and Christmas and warm weather in December.

Orville was parties and dinosaurs.

Coruna was a canal.

There were people who lived in all of those places, of course. People who worried about things Tommy never saw. People who fought over things he'd never needed to think about.

Veerle lived in Orville.

Tommy had only seen it in the movies.

There was a difference.

Tommy took another bite of his sandwich.

He still wanted to go.

By the time Tommy landed in Evermore, he had acquired a pen pal.

At least that was what he and Veerle had agreed to call it.

Her address was written on a piece of paper somewhere inside his backpack. Tommy had checked twice before they separated to make sure it was still there.

Veerle had a different flight to catch.

Tommy had Evermore.

They hugged before he left.

"Write me," said Veerle.

"I will."

"You better."

"I said I will."

Veerle smiled.

Tommy smiled back.

Then they went their separate ways.

Tommy followed his family off the plane.

There was nothing particularly exciting about that part.

Stand up.

Wait for everybody else to stand up.

Wait for somebody to get a bag out of the overhead compartment.

Move three feet.

Stop.

Move another three feet.

Stop again.

Bowie was somewhere ahead of him, still walking around in mismatched socks.

They had never found his shoes.

Tommy didn't know how somebody could lose both shoes on an airplane.

Apparently Bowie did.

Then Tommy felt it.

Warmth.

Not airplane warmth.

Not airport warmth.

Real warmth.

Evermore warmth.

Tommy smiled.

They were here.

Suddenly he could see the rest of the trip.

His grandparents.

Christmas.

The beach.

Swimming.

Sun.

Girls.

No school.

No football.

No track.

No Chloe.

Tommy's smile widened.

This was going to be great.

They still had to get through customs.

Tommy didn't mind.

They had to show their documents.

He didn't mind.

They had to answer questions.

He didn't mind.

They had to walk through another corridor.

He didn't mind.

Everything was moving.

Every little step brought him closer to getting out of the airport.

Then they reached baggage claim.

Tommy's enthusiasm died.

He hated baggage claim.

He had always hated baggage claim.

It was the cruelest part of flying.

You landed.

You got off the airplane.

You made it through customs.

You could practically feel the outside world waiting for you.

You had momentum.

Then baggage claim stopped everything.

Tommy stood beside the carousel.

...and waited.

A suitcase came around.

Not theirs.

Another suitcase.

Not theirs.

A large brown bag.

Not theirs.

A blue suitcase.

Not theirs.

Another brown bag.

Not theirs.

Tommy watched the blue suitcase disappear around the corner.

A minute later, it came back.

Then the brown one.

Then another bag Tommy remembered seeing before.

Tommy frowned.

"Didn't that already go around?"

Jason looked at it.

"Probably."

"I've seen that bag like ten times."

"Somebody hasn't picked it up."

"Where are ours?"

"They'll come."

Kathy looked toward the opening where the luggage emerged.

"Are you sure they put them on the right plane?"

Jason looked at her.

"Of course they did."

Kathy stared at him.

"They always do that."

Kathy continued staring.

Jason's confidence weakened.

"Usually."

"They put our bags on the wrong plane."

"That was one time."

"Exactly."

"Years ago."

"It still happened."

"They found them."

"Eventually."

Tommy looked at his mother.

Then his father.

"Eventually" seemed to be an important word in their marriage.

Another suitcase passed.

Tommy had definitely seen that one before.

Bowie sat on the floor.

Kathy looked down at him.

"Don't sit on the floor."

"I'm tired."

"So am I."

"My feet hurt."

Tommy looked down at Bowie's mismatched socks.

"You know what helps with that?"

Bowie looked at him.

"Shoes."

Bowie frowned.

"I lost them."

"I noticed."

"Tommy."

Tommy smiled innocently at his mother.

The carousel continued turning.

More bags appeared.

None belonged to the Rydells.

Tommy leaned against the railing.

He could feel Evermore outside.

That made this worse.

It was right there.

He'd survived the flights.

He'd survived Rarotonga.

He'd survived the peanuts.

He'd survived customs.

All that stood between him and Christmas vacation was a machine slowly showing him everybody else's luggage.

Another familiar suitcase passed.

"That's eleven."

Jason looked at him.

"You are not counting."

"I am now."

Then Kathy pointed.

"There!"

One of their suitcases finally appeared.

Jason grabbed it.

Tommy immediately straightened.

Another followed several bags later.

Then another.

Suddenly baggage claim became exciting.

"There!"

"I see it."

"That's mine!"

"I know."

Jason pulled Tommy's bag from the carousel.

Tommy grabbed it.

"Finally."

They waited a little longer for the last suitcase.

Then, at last, they had everything.

Everything except Bowie's shoes.

Those, apparently, belonged to the Pacific now.

They left baggage claim.

Tommy's mood immediately improved.

Outside the terminal, the warmth hit him properly.

He stopped for a moment.

The air felt different.

Warm.

Soft.

Familiar.

He breathed it in.

Evermore.

Tommy smiled again.

Jason left them with the luggage while he went to get the rental car.

By the time he returned, Bowie had managed not to lose anything else.

Jason opened the trunk.

"All right. Let's go."

They loaded the suitcases.

Tommy threw his backpack into the car, then immediately remembered Veerle's address was inside it.

He grabbed the backpack again.

Jason looked at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"You just put that in."

"I want it with me."

Jason shrugged.

Tommy climbed into the car with the backpack.

Kathy got Bowie settled while Jason finished arranging the luggage.

"We should call your parents," she said.

"I know."

"Before we leave."

"I know."

"They'll be wondering where we are."

Jason closed the trunk.

"They know where we are."

"They know we're supposed to be here."

"Which means they know where we are."

"Jason."

"I'll call them."

They found a phone inside the terminal.

Jason made the call while everyone else waited.

Tommy stood nearby, backpack over one shoulder.

He could already imagine his grandparents waiting for them.

The house.

Christmas.

The beach.

Everything he'd been thinking about since Provo.

Jason hung up.

"They know we're coming."

Kathy smiled.

"Good."

Tommy headed toward the doors.

"Can we go now?"

Jason looked at him.

"Yes, Tommy."

Finally.

Tommy pushed through the doors.

Evermore was waiting.

Charlie and Ethel Rydell were waiting outside by the time the rental car pulled into the driveway.

Tommy saw them before Jason had even stopped.

"There they are."

Bowie pressed himself against the window.

"Grandma!"

Ethel waved.

Charlie stood beside her, smiling broadly.

The house behind them was already decorated for Christmas.

Lights ran along the front. A wreath hung on the door. Through the windows Tommy could see even more lights inside and the glow of the Christmas tree.

Jason parked.

Tommy opened his door.

Ethel was already coming toward him.

"Thomas!"

Tommy smiled.

"Hi, Grandma."

Ethel wrapped her arms around him.

Tommy hugged her back.

Then she grabbed his face.

Tommy knew what was coming.

"No-"

Ethel pinched both his cheeks.

Hard.

Tommy gritted his teeth.

"My handsome boy!"

"Grandma."

She pinched harder.

"You've gotten so big."

"Grandma."

Charlie came over.

Tommy escaped Ethel only to have his grandfather grab one of his cheeks.

"Look at you."

Tommy endured it.

He'd been through this before.

Every year.

Apparently getting older had no effect on a grandparent's right to pinch your face.

Then Bowie climbed out of the car.

Ethel gasped.

"My baby!"

Bowie smiled.

Ethel grabbed his cheeks.

Bowie screamed.

"OW!"

Everyone laughed.

"Grandma!"

"Oh, I barely touched you."

"It hurts!"

Ethel kissed his forehead.

Bowie immediately covered both cheeks with his hands.

Charlie looked down.

Then he frowned.

"Where are his shoes?"

Jason closed the car door.

"Don't ask."

"He lost them," said Tommy.

"I lost them," Bowie confirmed.

"How?"

Bowie shrugged.

"I dunno."

Charlie stared at him.

"Both of them?"

Bowie nodded.

Ethel looked at his feet.

"His socks don't even match."

"We know," said Kathy.

Bowie looked down as though this were new information.

Jason walked over to his parents.

Charlie hugged him.

"Good to see you, son."

"You too, Dad."

Ethel hugged him next.

Then Kathy.

There was none of the cheek pinching for either of them.

Tommy considered this unfair.

"Come inside," said Ethel. "Dinner's almost ready."

That got Tommy moving.

The inside of the house looked even more like Christmas than the outside.

The tree dominated one corner of the living room. Decorations covered the mantel. Christmas cards stood along a shelf. A Nativity scene sat prominently beneath the window.

Above it hung a crucifix.

That part was there all year.

Charlie and Ethel Rydell were Catholic.

Very Catholic.

Universal Catholic, specifically.

Tommy understood that there was a difference.

He didn't understand all of it.

The Universal Catholics followed the old line of Popes in Munich and talked a lot about the Church belonging to everybody. The Crusader Catholics were the other ones. They had broken away a long time ago and were much more interested in Catholic nations, Catholic governments and making sure everybody knew they were Catholic.

The Kingdom of Jameson had a lot of those.

Grandma and Grandpa didn't like them.

That didn't mean Grandma and Grandpa were easygoing about religion.

"Thomas."

Tommy stopped.

Charlie pointed toward the crucifix.

Tommy realized he'd walked straight past it.

"Oh."

He crossed himself.

Charlie nodded approvingly.

Jason saw the exchange.

He said nothing.

Tommy barely noticed.

He knew his grandparents had rules.

Not really rules.

Expectations.

You prayed before dinner.

You went to Mass with them.

You didn't make jokes during prayers.

You listened when Grandpa started talking about God.

You listened when Grandma started talking about God.

You listened when either of them started talking about practically anything, really.

Then you made up your own mind afterward.

That was how Tommy understood it.

Jason understood it differently.

He remembered being a boy in the same house with Charlie telling him that going to church wasn't optional.

Then being a teenager and being told it still wasn't optional.

Then being told he would continue going until Confirmation.

Jason had gone through Confirmation.

After that, he'd decided for himself.

Charlie hadn't liked everything Jason decided.

He still didn't.

...but he'd learned to live with it.

Mostly.

Ethel looked at Tommy.

"Are you still seeing that girl?"

Tommy froze.

Jason looked at him.

Kathy looked at him.

Tommy knew immediately which girl Grandma meant.

"Chloe?"

"Yes."

Tommy shook his head.

"No."

Ethel's expression softened.

"Oh."

Charlie nodded.

"Probably for the best."

Tommy frowned.

"Why?"

Charlie looked at him.

"You're fourteen."

"So?"

"You don't need to be worrying about girlfriends at fourteen."

Tommy glanced at Jason.

Jason gave him a look that said he wasn't getting involved.

"I have another girlfriend."

Charlie stared at him.

Ethel stared at him.

Jason closed his eyes.

Kathy tried not to smile.

"You have another one already?" asked Ethel.

"Yeah."

"Thomas."

"What?"

"You just got here."

"I didn't meet her here."

"I know that."

"Her name's Cheryl."

Ethel looked at Kathy.

Kathy nodded.

"It's true."

Charlie shook his head.

"Fourteen years old."

Tommy shrugged.

Charlie had expressed his opinion.

That was allowed.

Tommy didn't have to agree with it.

That was also allowed.

It had taken Jason considerably longer to establish the second part.

Ethel sighed.

"Well, you're here now."

"Yeah."

"...and you're not bringing girls into this house."

Tommy looked at her.

"I didn't say I was."

"I'm saying it now."

"Okay."

Ethel narrowed her eyes.

Tommy smiled innocently.

He had no intention of arguing.

He'd been coming to Evermore since he was five.

He knew his grandparents.

If he met a girl, he wouldn't bring her here.

Problem solved.

"Dinner," said Ethel.

Tommy immediately forgot about the argument.

They gathered around the table.

Tommy sat down and looked at the food.

After airplanes, airports and one enormous sandwich, he was somehow hungry again.

Ethel sat beside Charlie.

Jason and Kathy took their seats.

Bowie climbed into his.

Charlie folded his hands.

Everyone else followed.

Tommy bowed his head.

He knew this part too.

Charlie began saying grace.

Tommy listened.

He didn't mind.

Grandpa believed what Grandpa believed.

Dad believed what Dad believed.

Tommy was still figuring out what Tommy believed.

At the moment, he mostly believed dinner smelled really good.

"Amen."

"Amen," everyone repeated.

Tommy immediately reached for the food.

Ethel slapped his hand lightly.

"Let your grandfather go first."

Tommy pulled his hand back.

Right.

He'd forgotten that part.

Dinner was excellent.

Tommy had expected it to be.

Ethel had spent most of the meal insisting everyone eat more while simultaneously expressing disbelief at how much Tommy was capable of eating.

Charlie had spent considerably more time trying to understand Tommy's romantic life.

"So Cheryl is your girlfriend?"

"Yeah."

"...but Chloe isn't?"

"No."

"What happened to Chloe?"

"We broke up."

Jason looked at Tommy.

Tommy ignored him.

"...and there was another girl?" asked Ethel.

Tommy looked at her.

"What other girl?"

"The one you met at the ballet."

Tommy stopped chewing.

Kathy looked at Jason.

Jason looked at Kathy.

Tommy swallowed.

"Shiloh."

"So there are two?"

Tommy concentrated on his potatoes.

"Sort of."

Charlie stared at him.

"How can you sort of have two girlfriends?"

"It's complicated."

"You're fourteen."

"I know."

"How complicated can it be?"

Tommy didn't answer.

Charlie looked at Jason.

Jason immediately raised both hands.

"Don't ask me."

"He's your son."

"Exactly. I've already had this conversation."

Ethel shook her head.

"When I was fourteen, I wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone with a boy."

Tommy looked up.

"That sounds terrible."

Ethel gave him a look.

Tommy returned to his potatoes.

After dinner, Tommy helped just enough that nobody could accuse him of not helping.

Then he found his jacket.

He put it on.

Then his shoes.

His own shoes.

Bowie's disappearance had made Tommy appreciate them considerably more.

Tommy headed toward the front door.

"Thomas."

Tommy stopped.

Charlie was looking at him from the living room.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk."

Charlie looked toward the window.

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"It's late."

Tommy shrugged.

"I know."

Charlie stood.

"You just got here."

"I know."

"Then why are you going out walking around at this hour?"

"Because I want to go for a walk."

Charlie frowned.

"I don't think you should be wandering around Evermore by yourself this late."

Tommy looked toward Jason.

Jason had heard enough to know what was happening.

"It's fine, Dad."

Charlie looked at him.

"He's fourteen."

"I know how old he is."

"You let him walk around alone at night?"

"Sometimes."

Charlie stared at him.

"Jason."

"He does it at home."

"That doesn't make it a good idea."

"He's never gotten into trouble."

Tommy said nothing.

That depended considerably on the definition of trouble.

Jason continued.

"He knows what time he's supposed to be home. He knows what happens if he isn't."

Charlie looked at Tommy.

Then back at Jason.

There was a pause.

Tommy knew that look too.

Grandpa didn't agree.

Dad knew Grandpa didn't agree.

Grandpa knew Dad knew Grandpa didn't agree.

Nobody was going to change anybody's mind.

Charlie sighed.

"What time are you coming back?"

Tommy looked at Jason.

Jason gave him a time.

"I'll be back by then."

Charlie still didn't look thrilled.

"Be careful."

"I will."

Ethel called from the kitchen.

"Thomas!"

Tommy looked over.

"Yeah?"

"Don't talk to strangers."

Tommy smiled.

"Okay, Grandma."

He opened the door.

Jason looked at him.

"Tommy."

Tommy stopped.

"Yeah?"

"Don't make me regret that."

"I won't."

Tommy stepped outside.

The door closed behind him.

He smiled.

Freedom.

He put his hands into his pockets and started walking.

One hand found money.

Tommy pulled it out.

He'd been saving for this.

Allowance money.

Whatever he didn't spend back home went into the Evermore pile.

His parents paid for the trip.

His grandparents fed him.

That meant Tommy's money could be spent on the important things.

Whatever Tommy wanted.

He reached the bus stop and waited.

Eventually a New Zealand Transit bus appeared.

Tommy climbed aboard, paid the fare and took his transfer.

He found a seat.

The bus pulled away.

Tommy watched Evermore pass outside the window.

He knew enough of the system from previous trips that he didn't have to think much about where he was going.

Bus.

Caldwell Station.

Metro.

Downtown.

Simple.

He got off at Caldwell and followed the signs into the station.

The New Zealand Metro carried him the rest of the way.

By the time Tommy emerged downtown, the quiet residential streets around his grandparents' house felt very far away.

This was the Evermore Tommy wanted.

Lights.

People.

Music.

Cars.

Restaurants.

Bars.

Girls.

Tommy smiled.

He knew exactly where he was going.

The Mashed Marsupial.

Tommy had discovered it the previous year.

More importantly, Tommy had discovered that nobody there had particularly cared that he was thirteen.

He'd managed to sneak inside, stayed for a while and left convinced he'd discovered one of Evermore's great secrets.

This year he intended to do it again.

He found the familiar building.

The Mashed Marsupial looked exactly as he remembered it.

That was encouraging.

Tommy walked toward the entrance.

A large man stepped in front of him.

Tommy stopped.

"ID."

Tommy stared at him.

"What?"

"ID."

That was new.

Nobody had asked him that last year.

Tommy reached toward his pocket.

Then stopped.

He didn't have ID that would help him.

He looked at the bouncer.

The bouncer looked at him.

Tommy considered his options.

"I forgot it."

The bouncer stared at him for another moment.

Tommy tried to look like someone who routinely carried identification and had simply made an unfortunate mistake that evening.

"Oh."

The bouncer stepped aside.

Tommy blinked.

That worked?

He wasn't going to question it.

"Thanks."

Tommy walked inside.

What Tommy didn't know was that The Mashed Marsupial had changed since his last visit.

Not voluntarily.

Evermore authorities had caught the bar serving underage customers earlier that year. There had been warnings, fines and demands that management finally do something about it.

So management had done something.

They hired bouncers.

The bouncers asked for identification.

Technically, this represented progress.

Nobody had apparently specified what the bouncers were supposed to do when somebody didn't have any.

Tommy entered The Mashed Marsupial with a smile on his face.

Being fourteen was easier than people made it sound.

The Mashed Marsupial was exactly as Tommy remembered it.

It smelled terrible.

The place was poorly ventilated, packed with people and so hot that everyone seemed to be sweating.

Clothing appeared to be optional.

Not literally.

Probably.

Tommy wasn't entirely sure.

Smoke hung in the air. Cigarettes seemed to be everywhere. Someone beside the door was smoking one. Three people at the bar were smoking. A woman near the stage had two cigarettes going at once, although Tommy wasn't sure whether they were both hers.

The band wasn't helping.

Tommy looked toward the stage.

They looked like they'd walked straight out of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

They didn't sound nearly as good.

The singer screamed something Tommy couldn't understand.

The guitarist seemed to be playing a different song.

The drummer appeared to be attempting to murder his drums.

Tommy loved it.

At one of the pool tables, a man sank a ball.

Another man immediately accused him of cheating.

Within thirty seconds they were shoving each other.

One of the bouncers appeared.

Tommy watched him separate them.

That was the second fight he'd seen since coming inside.

Apparently somebody had been hustling somebody.

Tommy didn't care.

Years later, Tommy might have hated this place.

It was crowded.

It was stuffy.

It was smoky.

The music was terrible.

At fourteen, Tommy thought he'd found heaven.

There were girls everywhere.

More importantly, girls in Evermore seemed to wear considerably less than girls in Provo.

Tommy immediately became too warm.

He took off his jacket.

Then his shirt.

He found a pile of clothing near one wall and dropped both on top.

He'd remember where they were.

Probably.

Tommy walked toward the bar.

That was when he saw her.

She was sitting alone.

Her hair had been teased outward until it seemed almost impossibly large. She wore several pounds of makeup, boots, panties and nothing else, with her nipples being pierced.

She was also nineteen.

Tommy didn't know that yet.

He approached her.

"Hi."

The woman looked at him.

"Hi."

"I'm Tommy."

"Layla."

Tommy smiled.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Layla smiled back.

"Sure."

Tommy had absolutely no idea that this was one of Layla's favourite ways of getting drinks.

Men approached her.

Men wanted her attention.

Layla wanted drinks.

Everyone benefited.

Usually.

Tommy ordered one for her.

His carefully saved Evermore money immediately became slightly less impressive.

Layla accepted the drink.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She put an arm around him.

Tommy almost forgot how breathing worked.

He recovered quickly.

Or at least he believed he recovered quickly.

He leaned against the bar as casually as possible.

"So you live here?"

"No. Auckland."

"Really?"

"Yeah. What about you?"

Tommy had prepared for questions like this.

Not specifically this question.

Just questions.

"I'm going to Ahipara Community College."

The lie came easily.

Tommy had driven past Ahipara Community College enough times over the years that he knew the name by heart.

Layla nodded.

"Oh."

Tommy waited.

That was it.

She didn't know anything about Ahipara Community College.

Excellent.

"I'm taking a few courses."

"What are you studying?"

Tommy hadn't prepared for that.

He thought.

"History."

"History?"

"Yeah."

That sounded believable.

"I haven't picked my major yet."

Layla nodded.

Tommy relaxed.

This was going extremely well.

"You play anything?"

Tommy looked at her.

"What?"

"Sports."

"Oh."

Tommy smiled.

"Football."

That part was true.

Then Tommy made a mistake.

"I'm the quarterback."

That was also true.

Layla looked impressed.

Tommy liked that.

"For Ahipara?"

Tommy could have stopped.

He didn't.

"Yeah."

Layla smiled.

"Are you good?"

Tommy could definitely have stopped.

He didn't.

"We won the Evermore championship."

Layla's eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Tommy had no idea whether Ahipara Community College had a football team.

He had even less idea whether there was something called the Evermore championship.

Fortunately, Layla didn't either.

"That's amazing."

Tommy smiled.

"Thanks."

Layla squeezed him slightly with the arm still around him.

Tommy decided he was the greatest liar who had ever lived.

"What about you?" he asked.

Layla looked toward the stage.

"My boyfriend's playing."

Tommy's confidence suffered an immediate and catastrophic collapse.

"Your boyfriend?"

Layla pointed toward the band.

Tommy followed her finger.

One of the musicians was jumping around the stage.

"Oh."

"They've been trying to get bookings forever. Nobody wants them."

Tommy listened for several seconds.

He understood why.

"This place finally gave them a night."

"That's good."

"I guess."

Layla took another drink.

"I play too."

"Guitar?"

"Guitar. I sing. I write my own songs."

"Are you good?"

Layla smiled.

"I think I'm very good."

"What does everybody else think?"

Her smile disappeared.

"Nobody wants to book me."

"Oh."

"Even he doesn't think I'm that good."

She nodded toward her boyfriend.

Tommy looked at the stage again.

Considering what he was hearing, he wasn't sure the boyfriend should be judging anybody.

"Sing something."

Layla laughed.

"What?"

"Sing something for me."

"In here?"

"Yeah."

"You wouldn't hear me."

Tommy looked around.

She was right.

The band was still assaulting the room.

"Outside."

Layla stared at him.

"You really want to hear me?"

"Yeah."

She studied him for a moment.

Then she finished her drink.

"Okay."

They went outside.

The air immediately felt wonderful.

Tommy hadn't realized just how hot he'd become until the night air hit his skin.

They moved away from the entrance and found a quiet nook where the noise from the bar was reduced to a distant pounding.

Layla leaned against the wall.

"What do you want to hear?"

"One of yours."

"My songs?"

"Yeah."

Layla hesitated.

For the first time since Tommy had met her, she looked nervous.

Then she started singing.

Tommy listened.

The difference surprised him.

Inside, she'd been another strange person in a strange bar.

Out here, without the smoke and noise and people around them, Tommy could actually hear her.

She was good.

At least Tommy thought she was.

When she finished, Layla looked at him.

"Well?"

Tommy smiled.

"That was really good."

Layla stared at him.

"I'm serious."

"You liked it?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to say that."

"I'm not."

Tommy shrugged.

"I'd listen to it."

Layla smiled.

It wasn't the same smile she'd given him at the bar.

This one looked almost relieved.

"Thank you."

She hugged him.

Tommy stiffened for half a second.

Then hugged her back.

He liked this.

He liked this very much.

Layla kissed him briefly on the lips.

Tommy's brain stopped.

Layla didn't seem to think anything of it.

In Evermore, affectionate kisses like that weren't necessarily romantic. Layla had grown up around them. Friends kissed. People hugged. It didn't have to mean anything more.

Tommy didn't know that.

Tommy knew exactly what he thought it meant.

He might have a chance.

He did not react.

At least he tried not to.

Play it cool.

That was important.

Layla kept hugging him.

Tommy relaxed against her.

She seemed happy.

Nobody wanted to book her.

Her own boyfriend didn't think much of her singing.

Then some quarterback from Ahipara Community College had listened to her song and told her he genuinely liked it.

Tommy had made her night.

Eventually they separated.

Layla smiled at him.

Then she gave him another quick kiss.

Tommy's confidence soared.

Definitely a chance.

Layla took his hand.

"Come on."

Tommy let her lead him back inside.

The heat and smoke swallowed them almost immediately.

The terrible band was still playing.

Tommy didn't mind anymore.

They returned to the bar.

Layla ordered something.

Then she ordered another drink and pushed it toward Tommy.

Tommy looked at it.

"For me?"

"You bought me one."

Tommy smiled.

"Thanks."

He picked it up.

Layla put her arm around him again.

Tommy looked toward the stage.

The music was still terrible.

The bar still smelled awful.

His jacket and shirt were somewhere in a pile he could no longer see.

There had probably been another fight at the pool tables while they were outside.

Tommy smiled.

Maybe he'd enjoy the show after all.

Tommy and Layla stayed at the bar.

The band continued playing.

Tommy had learned their name.

Curry's Crazies.

"Like curry?" Tommy had asked.

"Tim Curry," said Layla.

"Oh."

That made considerably more sense.

Especially once Tommy looked at the lead singer again.

The man was obviously trying to look like Frank-N-Furter.

He had the hair.

The makeup.

The clothes.

The movements.

What he didn't have was Tim Curry's voice.

Or Tim Curry's charisma.

Or, as far as Tommy could tell, Tim Curry's ability to sing.

Tommy leaned closer to Layla.

"That's your boyfriend?"

Layla laughed.

"No."

"Good."

She looked at him.

"Good?"

Tommy realized what he'd said.

"I mean-"

Layla laughed again.

"That's Kevin."

She pointed.

Tommy followed her finger toward the bassist.

"Oh."

Kevin looked considerably less ridiculous.

More importantly, he appeared to know what he was doing.

"He's actually pretty good."

Layla smiled.

"Boogie is."

"Boogie?"

"That's what I call him."

"Why?"

"Because he's Boogie."

Tommy waited for a better explanation.

None came.

"Okay."

Tommy listened.

Boogie really was pretty good.

He stayed with the drummer even when the drummer seemed determined not to stay with anybody. He kept playing through the guitarist's mistakes. Whenever the singer wandered away from whatever song they were supposed to be performing, Boogie seemed to drag everyone back toward it.

Tommy nodded.

"Yeah. He's good."

"I know."

"The rest of them..."

Layla smiled.

"You don't have to say it."

"Okay."

The singer attempted a particularly ambitious note.

Tommy winced.

Layla laughed.

Tommy took another drink.

His attention eventually returned to Layla.

More specifically, to something he'd noticed earlier.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You've been asking me things all night."

"Those."

Layla followed his eyes.

"The piercings?"

"Yeah."

"What about them?"

"Didn't that hurt?"

Layla looked down at herself.

"No."

"Really?"

"Really."

Tommy looked unconvinced.

"Not at all?"

"Not really."

"I think that would hurt."

"You'd be surprised."

"When did you get them?"

"When I turned eighteen."

Layla nodded toward the stage.

"Boogie got his done too."

Tommy stared at her.

"Boogie has his nipples pierced?"

"Yeah."

"No, I mean- you got them together?"

"Yeah."

"For your eighteenth birthday?"

"Our eighteenth birthdays."

Tommy frowned.

"How did you both turn eighteen at the same time?"

Layla stared at him.

Then she burst out laughing.

Tommy realized there was something he hadn't understood.

"What?"

"Our birthdays are close together."

"Oh."

Layla kept laughing.

"That's what you meant."

"What did you think I meant?"

"I don't know."

"That we were twins?"

"No."

Tommy paused.

"Maybe."

Layla laughed harder.

Tommy smiled.

He liked making her laugh, even when he hadn't meant to.

She put her arm around him again and pulled him closer.

Tommy had stopped being surprised whenever she did that.

He'd also stopped pretending he didn't enjoy it.

Layla was affectionate.

Extremely affectionate.

Every few minutes she seemed to find another reason to touch his shoulder, squeeze him, lean against him or hug him.

Tommy was perfectly happy with this arrangement.

Layla looked at him.

"You know what I don't understand?"

"What?"

"How someone like you came here alone."

Tommy smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"You're sweet."

Tommy's smile grew.

"You're funny."

It grew again.

"You're a great guy."

Tommy decided Layla was an excellent judge of character.

"So where's your girl?"

Tommy's smile weakened.

That was a considerably more complicated question than Layla realized.

There was Chloe.

Except there wasn't Chloe.

There was Cheryl.

There was Shiloh.

There had been Kayla.

Now he was sitting half-dressed in a bar in Evermore with a nineteen-year-old woman whose boyfriend was playing bass fifteen feet away.

Tommy considered his answer.

"I'm still figuring things out."

Layla smiled.

It wasn't a teasing smile this time.

She kissed his forehead.

Then she wrapped both arms around him.

Tommy hugged her back.

"You'll figure it out," she said.

Tommy rested against her.

"You think?"

"I know."

Tommy smiled.

Maybe he would.

For the moment, he was perfectly content not to.

Curry's Crazies reached the end of their song.

There was scattered applause.

Then the singer announced that they had one more.

Tommy wasn't sure whether that was a promise or a threat.

The final song began.

Boogie remained good.

The drummer remained enthusiastic.

The guitarist remained somewhere in the general vicinity of the correct notes.

Frank-N-Furter remained an aspiration.

Eventually they reached the end.

The crowd applauded.

Layla clapped loudly.

Tommy joined her.

The musicians began putting down their instruments.

Boogie wiped his face with a towel and looked toward the bar.

Then he saw Layla.

He smiled.

Layla waved.

Boogie started walking toward them.

Tommy's smile disappeared.

He looked at Layla.

Then at Boogie.

Then at Layla's arm, which was still around him.

Boogie kept coming.

Tommy swallowed.

This could be a problem.

Boogie stepped down from the stage.

Tommy got his first good look at him.

He'd apparently decided that if Jerry was going to be Frank-N-Furter, somebody had to be Eddie.

The leather jacket helped.

So did the hair.

What didn't help Tommy was Boogie's face.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

He was staring directly at Tommy.

Boogie started toward them.

Tommy watched him.

Boogie kept coming.

Tommy glanced at Layla.

She kissed the side of his head.

Tommy looked back at Boogie.

Still coming.

Layla kissed him again.

Then again.

Tommy started sweating.

For once, it wasn't because The Mashed Marsupial apparently considered ventilation an unnecessary luxury.

Boogie got closer.

Layla kissed Tommy's temple again.

Tommy shifted in his seat.

Boogie was still staring at him.

"Uh..."

Layla kissed him again.

Tommy looked at her.

Then Boogie.

Then her.

She smiled innocently.

Tommy didn't realize she knew exactly what she was doing.

Boogie was only a few feet away now.

Tommy straightened.

He wondered whether he should move Layla's arm.

Would that make things better?

Would that make things worse?

Would running make things worse?

Probably.

Boogie stopped directly in front of him.

Tommy looked up.

Boogie looked down.

Neither said anything.

Tommy swallowed.

Boogie leaned closer.

Then his face broke.

He burst out laughing.

Tommy stared at him.

Boogie nearly doubled over.

Layla started laughing too.

"You should have seen the look on his face!" Boogie said.

"You bastard," Layla said through her laughter.

Boogie wrapped an arm around her and kissed her.

Tommy sat there.

He could still feel his heart pounding.

Boogie looked at him again.

"Mate, I thought you were going to piss yourself."

"I wasn't."

"You looked like it."

"I knew you were joking."

Layla laughed harder.

Tommy frowned.

"I did."

"Of course you did."

Boogie hugged Layla again.

Tommy looked away.

He had been scared.

Very scared.

...and apparently everyone knew it.

Layla finally took pity on him.

"Leave him alone."

"I'm leaving him alone."

"He's having girl troubles."

Boogie looked at Tommy.

"Girl troubles?"

Tommy glared at Layla.

"Thanks."

"Poor thing."

Boogie reached into his pocket and pulled out a little paper ticket.

He slid it across the bar.

"Here."

Tommy looked at it.

"What's this?"

"Beer ticket."

"What's a beer ticket?"

Boogie pointed toward the bartender.

"Give him that. He'll give you a beer."

Tommy looked at the ticket again.

"Why do you have beer tickets?"

"They pay us in them."

Tommy looked at him.

"What?"

"The bar."

"They don't pay you money?"

Boogie shook his head.

"They give us beer tickets."

Tommy frowned.

"That's not fair."

Boogie shrugged.

"That's show business."

Tommy looked toward the stage.

"Show business means being in a bad band?"

Silence.

Tommy froze.

Boogie stared at him.

Layla covered her mouth.

Tommy felt his stomach drop again.

"I didn't mean-"

Boogie laughed.

"Nah. We stink."

Tommy blinked.

"You know?"

"Of course I know."

Boogie looked toward the stage.

"They're my mates."

"So why don't you find another band?"

"Because they're my mates."

That apparently settled it.

Boogie leaned against the bar.

"Besides, I'm getting better."

"You are good."

"Exactly."

Boogie grinned.

"Maybe somebody from a real band hears me one night and offers me a job."

Tommy nodded.

That made sense.

Jerry arrived first.

Up close, Tommy decided the Frank-N-Furter impression hadn't improved.

Two of the other band members followed him.

Jerry looked at Layla.

Then Tommy.

Then Boogie.

"Your girl picked up another guy tonight."

Boogie sighed dramatically.

"Again?"

Layla laughed.

"It's terrible," Boogie told Tommy. "She's probably slept with all of Evermore by now."

"Twice," Layla said.

Boogie nodded solemnly.

"Twice."

Jerry shook his head.

"You need to watch her harder."

Boogie looked at him.

"Why?"

Jerry shrugged.

Layla laughed and leaned against Boogie.

Nobody seemed bothered.

Tommy wasn't entirely sure what was happening.

Back in Provo, he couldn't imagine sitting beside Cheryl while another boy joked about her sleeping with everyone in town.

He couldn't imagine Cheryl laughing about it.

He definitely couldn't imagine himself laughing.

Yet Boogie didn't seem jealous.

Layla didn't seem insulted.

Jerry didn't seem like he was actually trying to insult her.

They were just...

Playing.

Tommy wasn't sure he understood the rules.

A few people came over to the band.

Despite everything Tommy had thought about their music, people thanked them for playing.

One guy shook Jerry's hand and told him he'd loved the show.

Jerry looked delighted.

Tommy had finished the beer Boogie had given him by then.

A girl came over next.

She was pretty.

Tommy noticed.

Boogie noticed Tommy noticing.

More importantly, Boogie noticed the girl noticing Tommy.

Boogie looked from one to the other.

Then he smiled.

He reached into his pocket.

Two more beer tickets appeared.

He handed them to Tommy.

Tommy looked down.

"What are these for?"

Boogie nodded toward the girl.

"Go buy Sarah a drink."

Tommy looked at Sarah.

Then at Boogie.

"Her name's Sarah?"

"Yeah."

"You know her?"

"Everyone knows Sarah."

Tommy looked at the tickets.

Then at Sarah.

Sarah smiled at him.

Tommy smiled back.

Boogie nudged him.

"Go."

Tommy stood.

He suddenly remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Sarah didn't seem to mind.

Tommy walked over.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"I'm Tommy."

"Sarah."

"I know."

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

Tommy immediately realized that sounded strange.

"I mean, Boogie told me."

"Oh."

Tommy held up one of the tickets.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Sarah looked at the beer ticket.

Then at him.

Then toward Boogie.

Boogie gave her a thumbs-up.

Sarah laughed.

"Sure."

Tommy smiled.

Within minutes, they were talking like they'd known each other considerably longer than they had.

Tommy had come to The Mashed Marsupial looking for something to do.

He was beginning to think he'd found it.

Tommy had finished the beer Boogie had given him by then.

That made the two new tickets considerably more useful.

One for Sarah.

One for him.

They got their drinks and started talking.

Then kept talking.

Tommy learned quickly that Sarah was easy to talk to.

Very easy.

He didn't have to impress her.

Which didn't stop him from trying.

He told her about Provo.

Football.

Crestview.

Evermore.

His grandparents.

He carefully avoided mentioning that he was fourteen.

Sarah carefully avoided mentioning certain things too.

Neither noticed.

They finished their beers.

Boogie walked past and dropped two more tickets between them.

Tommy looked at them.

"More?"

Boogie shrugged.

"They gave us heaps."

Sonny, the guitarist, appeared behind him.

He added two more.

Tommy stared at the growing pile.

"You don't want them?"

"I don't drink," Sonny said.

Tommy looked at Boogie.

"Neither do I."

Tommy frowned.

"Then why do they pay you in beer?"

Boogie shrugged.

"That's show business."

He walked away.

Tommy looked at Sarah.

Sarah looked at Tommy.

They looked at the tickets.

A few minutes later, they had more beer.

The conversation continued.

Then the conversation started requiring less conversation.

Tommy wasn't entirely sure when Sarah had gotten so close to him.

He wasn't sure when he'd put his arm around her either.

He knew when they kissed.

He definitely noticed that.

Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck.

Tommy pulled her closer.

They kissed again.

...and again.

Eventually somebody bumped into them.

They separated.

Looked at each other.

Then started laughing.

Somebody changed the music.

Tommy hated the song.

Sarah hated the song.

They danced to it anyway.

Tommy couldn't remember ever hearing anything better.

They bounced around with everyone else.

They lost each other.

Found each other.

Kissed again.

At some point they escaped somewhere quieter.

Tommy couldn't remember why.

That didn't seem important.

They came back.

They danced again.

Then they were sitting at the bar.

Tommy wasn't sure how they'd gotten there.

There were two more beers in front of them.

Sarah picked hers up.

Tommy stared at his.

His stomach didn't want it.

His head didn't want it.

Something somewhere inside him was telling him that he'd had enough.

Tommy picked it up.

He drank anyway.

Sarah seemed fine.

That annoyed him.

She was drinking just as much as he was.

At least Tommy thought she was.

Maybe she was better at it.

He could be better at it too.

He finished the beer.

That had been a mistake.

Tommy knew that almost immediately.

He ignored it.

For a while.

Eventually he and Sarah wandered outside again.

The cooler air felt wonderful.

Tommy breathed deeply.

"Better."

Sarah laughed.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

He was absolutely fine.

Tommy put his arms around her.

Sarah put hers around him.

They kissed.

Tommy leaned against her.

They kissed again.

Then the world moved.

Tommy stopped.

Sarah pulled away.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

Tommy blinked.

The wall seemed farther away than it had been a moment ago.

Then closer.

He reached for it.

"Whoa."

Sarah caught his arm.

"Tommy?"

"I'm fine."

He tried to stand straight.

His legs disagreed.

Tommy stumbled.

Sarah grabbed him.

"Sit down."

"I don't need to-"

His knees gave.

Tommy sat.

Not because Sarah had told him to.

Because sitting had suddenly become the only available option.

He closed his eyes.

That was worse.

He opened them again.

The ground moved.

His stomach churned.

Tommy swallowed.

No.

No, no, no.

He knew what was coming.

He tried to stand.

That was an even worse idea.

His stomach clenched.

Tommy bent forward.

Then came the eruption.

Beer.

Dinner.

Possibly every peanut he'd eaten since Los Angeles.

Everything came out.

Tommy coughed.

Spat.

Tried to breathe.

His eyes watered.

"Oh, Jove."

Sarah crouched beside him.

"You okay?"

Tommy held up one hand.

He wasn't sure what the hand meant.

Wait.

Stop.

Help.

Maybe all three.

His stomach clenched again.

Another eruption.

When it finally stopped, Tommy stayed where he was.

He felt terrible.

The pavement was cold beneath him.

His mouth tasted disgusting.

His head was swimming.

His stomach had apparently declared war.

Tommy looked toward the street.

Somewhere through the haze, a thought managed to form.

Home.

He should go home.

He had a curfew.

His grandparents were expecting him.

His parents were expecting him.

He needed to get back to Caldwell Station.

Take the Metro.

Get the bus.

Walk the rest of the way.

Easy.

Tommy tried to stand.

He made it halfway.

Then sat back down.

No.

Not easy.

Tommy stared at the pavement.

He needed to go home.

He was in absolutely no condition to get there.

Fortunately, Boogie noticed.

"Bloody hell."

Tommy looked up.

Boogie was standing over him.

Tommy tried to smile.

"Hi."

Boogie looked at Sarah.

"What happened?"

"He got sick."

"I can see that."

"I'm okay," Tommy said.

Nobody listened to him.

Layla came outside.

She took one look at Tommy.

"Oh, sweetheart."

"I'm okay."

Nobody listened to him again.

Boogie crouched beside him.

"Where are you staying?"

Tommy tried to remember.

"My grandparents'."

"Where?"

Tommy gave him the address.

At least he thought he did.

Boogie looked at Layla.

"We're taking him home."

Tommy shook his head.

"I can get home."

"How?"

"Metro."

Tommy pointed vaguely toward somewhere that wasn't the Metro.

"Then bus."

Boogie nodded.

"You're coming with us."

Tommy decided not to argue.

There was, however, another problem.

"My shirt."

"What?"

"I lost my shirt."

Layla looked at him.

"...and my jacket."

"You lost your jacket too?"

"They're inside."

"Where?"

Tommy thought about it.

"I don't know."

Finding them took considerably longer than it should have.

The Mashed Marsupial had accumulated several piles of clothing over the course of the night.

Tommy remembered putting his clothes in one of them.

He did not remember which one.

Boogie held up a shirt.

"This?"

"No."

Another.

"This?"

"No."

"Tommy, are you sure you wore a shirt?"

"Yes."

Eventually Tommy spotted his jacket underneath clothing belonging to at least four other people.

His shirt was nearby.

Probably.

Tommy decided it was his.

He put both on.

Sarah came over before he left.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

Tommy was getting tired of that question.

Sarah slipped a piece of paper into his hand.

"My number."

Tommy looked at it.

The numbers moved slightly.

He folded it before they could escape.

"I'll call you."

"You better."

Sarah kissed him one last time.

Tommy smiled weakly.

Boogie and the others said goodbye to her too.

Then Tommy was taken outside.

Getting into the car required considerably more concentration than Tommy thought getting into a car should require.

He ended up in the back with Layla.

Someone put a bucket in front of him.

Tommy didn't ask where they'd gotten it.

He was simply grateful it existed.

Layla kept an arm around him.

Earlier, that would have resulted in jokes.

Nobody made any now.

"Where are we going?" Boogie asked.

Tommy gave him the address again.

"How do we get there?"

Tommy stared ahead.

He knew this.

He'd gotten downtown by himself.

Metro.

Bus.

Walking.

...but driving?

"I know from the airport."

Boogie looked back.

"The airport?"

"I know how to get there from the airport."

There was a pause.

"Right," Boogie said. "Airport it is."

So they drove toward the airport.

Then from the airport toward Tommy's grandparents' house.

It was not the fastest route.

It was the route Tommy knew.

Halfway there, Tommy grabbed the bucket.

Layla immediately held it steady.

Tommy threw up.

Again.

When he finished, he wiped his mouth.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," Layla said.

A few minutes later, Tommy grabbed the bucket again.

"Sorry."

"Still okay."

He threw up again.

"Sorry."

"Tommy."

He looked at her.

"You don't have to apologize every time."

"Okay."

A few minutes passed.

Tommy grabbed the bucket.

"Sorry."

Layla sighed.

Eventually the car stopped.

Tommy looked outside.

His grandparents' house.

He had never been so happy to see it.

Boogie got out.

Layla helped Tommy out of the back.

Before she closed the door, she took another piece of paper and pushed it into Tommy's jacket pocket.

Tommy looked at her.

"What's that?"

"My number."

Tommy smiled faintly.

"Another number."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Layla zipped the pocket shut.

"You call me when you get up."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"I will."

"Me and Boogie live together. You'll probably get one of us."

Boogie nodded.

"Call."

Layla squeezed Tommy.

"We want to know you're all right."

"I'll call."

They helped him toward the house.

Boogie looked at it.

"This your place?"

"My grandparents'."

"You're staying with your grandparents?"

"For Christmas."

That was true.

Entirely true.

Tommy was becoming very fond of entirely true answers.

They reached the front door.

Boogie knocked.

The door opened.

Charlie stood there.

He looked at Tommy.

Then Layla.

Then Boogie.

Then Tommy again.

His expression hardened.

"Thomas."

Tommy swallowed.

"Hi, Grandpa."

"What in God's name-"

Footsteps came from behind Charlie.

Jason appeared.

He took one look at his son.

Then at the two strangers holding him upright.

"Tommy?"

"I'm okay."

Jason ignored that.

He looked at Boogie.

"What happened?"

"He had too much to drink," Boogie said. "Got sick outside the bar."

Jason looked at Tommy.

Tommy looked at the ground.

"We didn't want him trying to get home by himself," Layla said.

Jason nodded.

"Thank you."

Charlie stared at him.

"Jason-"

"Not now, Dad."

Charlie closed his mouth.

Jason took Tommy from them.

"You drove him all the way here?"

Boogie nodded.

Jason reached into his pocket.

He pulled out some money.

Boogie immediately shook his head.

"Nah, mate."

"For gas."

"It's fine."

Jason held it out.

"Take it."

"We don't need-"

"Take it."

Boogie looked at Layla.

Layla shrugged.

Boogie accepted the money.

"Thanks."

"No. Thank you."

Layla looked at Tommy.

"Call us."

Tommy nodded.

"I will."

Boogie and Layla headed back toward the car.

Jason helped Tommy inside.

Charlie followed.

Tommy waited.

He knew what was coming.

He'd been drinking.

He'd lied about where he was going.

He'd come home late.

He'd come home drunk.

He'd thrown up repeatedly.

His grandfather already looked ready to deliver a sermon.

Jason didn't.

"Sit down."

Tommy sat.

Jason brought him water.

"Drink."

Tommy drank.

Not quickly.

His stomach had opinions about that too.

Jason sat across from him.

"How do you feel?"

"Terrible."

"Still feel like you're going to throw up?"

"Maybe."

Jason put something nearby in case he did.

Tommy took another sip of water.

Charlie remained standing nearby.

Jason looked at him.

"I've got him, Dad."

Charlie hesitated.

Then left.

Tommy drank some more.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you know when you've had too much beer?"

Jason looked at him.

Tommy frowned.

"I think I went past it."

"Yeah," Jason said. "I think you did."

Tommy looked into his glass.

"How do you know before that happens?"

Jason thought about it.

"How did you feel while you were drinking?"

"Good."

"Before you got sick."

Tommy tried to remember.

"Still good."

Jason waited.

Tommy sighed.

"My stomach didn't want another one."

"Okay."

"...and my head felt weird."

"Okay."

"...and I knew I probably shouldn't have another one."

"...but you did."

Tommy nodded.

"Why?"

Tommy shrugged.

"Sarah was still drinking."

"Who's Sarah?"

Tommy paused.

"A girl."

Jason nodded.

Of course she was.

"She could handle it."

"...and you thought you should be able to."

Tommy nodded.

"How fast were you drinking?"

"I don't know."

"One an hour?"

Tommy thought about it.

"No."

"Two?"

"Maybe."

Jason looked at him.

Tommy reconsidered.

"Sometimes faster."

"How many did you have?"

Tommy tried to count.

He couldn't.

"A lot."

Jason nodded.

"There's your answer."

Tommy looked at him.

"That's it?"

"You drank a lot of beer quickly. Your body started telling you it didn't want any more. You ignored it."

Tommy took another sip of water.

"So next time?"

"Don't ignore it."

Tommy nodded.

That seemed embarrassingly obvious now.

Jason stood.

"No more tonight. Water. Bed. If you feel like you're going to be sick again, don't lie flat on your back."

"Okay."

"...and if you start feeling worse, wake me."

"Okay."

Jason helped him stand.

Tommy steadied himself.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not mad?"

Jason looked at him.

"No. Tomorrow will still be rough, though."

Tommy grimaced.

That wasn't quite the answer he'd wanted.

Jason put an arm around him.

"Right now I want you in bed."

Tommy nodded.

That sounded good.

Very good.

He made his way toward the bedroom.

Tonight had taught Tommy several things.

The Mashed Marsupial was exactly as good as he remembered.

Layla was wonderful.

Boogie was considerably less terrifying than he looked.

Sarah was definitely getting a phone call.

...and there was apparently a point where another beer stopped making the night better.

Tommy wished he'd figured out that last one about three beers earlier.

Tommy came down the stairs.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

One hand stayed on the railing.

The other stayed against his head.

Every step seemed to travel directly through the floor, up his legs and into his skull.

He reached the bottom.

Jason looked over.

"Morning."

Tommy winced.

"Don't talk so loud."

Jason hadn't.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck."

Jason smiled.

"You've taken sacks before."

"Those weren't trucks."

"Some of those linemen were pretty close."

Tommy lowered himself into a chair.

"I feel worse than that."

Jason chuckled.

Tommy glared at him.

Nothing about this was funny.

Nothing about anything was funny.

Especially not the smell coming from the kitchen.

Ethel and Kathy were cooking.

Normally Tommy would have been investigating.

Today, whatever was sizzling in the pan made his stomach turn.

He reached for his glass of water.

Water was his best friend.

He took another sip.

Then another.

Charlie entered the room.

Tommy looked at him.

Charlie looked at Tommy.

He didn't say anything.

He didn't have to.

Tommy knew that look.

Charlie disapproved.

Tommy looked back down at his water.

Charlie adjusted his trousers.

His hand closed around his belt buckle.

Jason stopped smiling.

For a moment, he wasn't looking at his father.

He was looking at the belt.

Tommy didn't notice.

His attention had wandered elsewhere.

"If Jesus can raise people from the dead..."

Kathy looked over.

"...can He cure a hangover?"

Ethel tried not to smile.

Kathy failed.

Jason laughed.

Tommy immediately regretted making everyone do that.

"Oh, Jove."

He put both hands against his head.

Charlie didn't laugh.

He looked at Jason.

"Are you going to deal with your son?"

Ethel turned around.

"Charlie."

Kathy's expression changed.

"He's sick."

"He was drinking."

"Yes," Kathy said. "We know."

Charlie looked at Tommy.

"A fourteen-year-old boy coming home drunk-"

"Charlie," Ethel said again.

Jason stood.

Tommy looked up.

"Dad?"

Jason stared at Charlie.

"You know what? No."

Charlie frowned.

"No?"

"No. I'm not going to deal with him."

"Jason-"

"I already dealt with him."

Charlie looked incredulous.

"You gave him water and put him to bed."

"Yeah."

"He needs to understand what he did."

"He does."

"How?"

Jason pointed at Tommy.

"Look at him."

Tommy raised his head slightly.

He wished nobody would look at him.

Charlie shook his head.

"That's not discipline."

Something in Jason's face changed.

Kathy noticed.

So did Ethel.

Tommy didn't.

His head hurt too much.

Jason looked at Charlie's hand.

Still near the belt.

"You know what you did when I was sixteen?"

Charlie went quiet.

Ethel closed her eyes.

"Jason," Kathy said.

"No. He wants to talk about discipline."

Charlie let go of the buckle.

"I was sixteen," Jason said. "Some friends asked me to meet them at the park."

Tommy looked at his father.

"There were some other people there. Friends of friends. Somebody brought beer. Somebody brought liquor."

Jason folded his arms.

"I didn't want any."

Charlie said nothing.

"Somebody handed me an orange drink. Told me it was orange juice."

Jason laughed once.

There wasn't anything funny in it.

"It wasn't."

Kathy stopped what she was doing.

"I don't even know everything that was in it. Alcohol, obviously. Probably something else."

Tommy forgot about his headache for a moment.

"I got sick. Really sick."

Ethel stared at the counter.

"The police found us," Jason continued. "Broke the whole thing up. I ended up in the hospital."

Tommy stared at him.

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"I never knew that."

"No reason you would."

Jason looked at Charlie.

"I got lucky. One of the cops actually listened to me. He believed me when I told him I hadn't known what was in the drink. Didn't cite me."

Jason looked toward Ethel.

"Mom came to the hospital."

Ethel nodded quietly.

"Of course I did."

Jason looked back at Charlie.

"You didn't."

Charlie stiffened.

"Jason-"

"You didn't."

Tommy looked between them.

"When I finally got home..."

Jason glanced at Charlie's belt.

Tommy followed his eyes.

Then understood.

His stomach sank for an entirely different reason.

"...you gave me the belt."

Nobody spoke.

Tommy stared at his grandfather.

Charlie looked away.

Jason shook his head.

"...and that's the tip of the iceberg."

"Jason," Charlie said.

"No. You want to stand there and tell me how to deal with my son-"

"I was trying to teach you responsibility."

"You beat me after somebody drugged me!"

"Jason."

Kathy stepped between them.

"Enough."

Jason looked at her.

"Not here. Not now."

Jason breathed heavily.

Charlie looked ready to answer.

Ethel got there first.

"Charlie."

He looked at her.

"You promised me."

Charlie said nothing.

"You promised me this year we weren't going to fight."

"This isn't-"

"Yes, it is."

Ethel pointed toward the room around them.

"I want them to come back next Christmas."

Charlie looked at Jason.

Jason looked away.

Tommy suddenly understood considerably less about Christmas than he had ten minutes earlier.

Every year they came to Evermore.

Every year his grandparents were excited to see them.

Every year his father came back.

He'd never wondered why that seemed to matter so much.

He still didn't understand.

His head hurt too much to try.

Actually, his head hurt worse now.

"Can everybody stop yelling?"

Nobody had been yelling particularly loudly.

To Tommy, they had been.

Kathy immediately turned toward him.

"Sorry."

Tommy pressed his fingers against his temples.

"It's okay."

"No. It's not."

Kathy went into the kitchen.

She returned with a bowl.

Tommy smelled it.

Chicken soup.

Normally he liked chicken soup.

Today he regarded it suspiciously.

"Try a little," Kathy said.

"I'm not hungry."

"You don't have to finish it."

She put it in front of him.

Tommy looked at the broth.

Then at his water.

Water remained his best friend.

Kathy rubbed his shoulder.

"You worry about feeling better."

Tommy nodded.

"I'm sorry about your dad and your grandad."

Tommy looked toward Jason.

Then Charlie.

They weren't looking at each other anymore.

"Okay."

"Just eat what you can."

Tommy picked up the spoon.

He took a little broth.

His stomach considered it.

Apparently it was acceptable.

Tommy took another.

He still had questions.

A lot of questions.

About his father.

About his grandfather.

About what had happened when Jason was sixteen.

About why his father kept coming back here every Christmas.

...but those questions could wait.

Right now Tommy had a much more immediate problem.

He had discovered that Jesus apparently did not cure hangovers.