Monty After Dark

Chapter 11

Monday after school, we had our last game of the regular season for lacrosse. Chris was talking about the rookie party. I wasn't even listening.

"Monty, did you hear anything I just said?" he asked.

"Sorry man," I said. "I'm so rattled right now. Being grounded is bullshit."

"Well, Sam was there," Chris said. "She was looking for you. I think she knows you're pissed."

"Jesus Christ, what did you tell her? You didn't tell her she got me grounded, did you?"

"I said you had something better to do," he said, giving me a joking laugh. "No time for high school parties anymore."

When we walked out to warm up, Sam and her gaggle of sluts were by the field.

"Oh, hey, Sam," I said. "Heard you were looking for me the other night." She just stared at me. "Yeah, you wanted to come gloat because you think you got me in trouble ... My neighbour was having a party on Saturday, I was too busy hanging out with guys from the BC Lions to come to a lame rookie party and watch some schmelts run a train on you."

"Whatever," she said, glaring at me. Her friends went to sit on the bleachers, but I watched her disappear to the parking lot as Chris and I tossed a ball back and forth.

We won. I didn't play much. But we won. I was feeling pretty good until I saw my dad.

"Good game, Matthew," he said. I used to wish like hell my dad gave enough of a shit to bother coming to watch me play anything, but now he was here and I wished he wasn't. I looked at him then kept walking to the dressing room.

"So what happened with you and Chan, have you talked to her since?" Chris asked as I unlaced my cleats.

"No. I don't even know, I just ... What do I even do now? Obviously, she made it pretty clear what she thinks of me. And really, what do I have to offer? I get grounded for fucks sakes, she probably thinks I'm in Kindergarten." I didn't tell Chris that I had cried in front of her. I had conveniently left that part out of the story.

"That's not true, someone must have done something really shitty to her that she would react the way she did. Maybe if you can prove you're a good guy, she'll warm up to you?"

When Chris and I walked outside, my dad was still there. "Come on, I'll give you guys a ride home," he said. Chris looked at me.

"If it's alright with you, I'd really rather walk," I replied in a flat voice.

"Why don't you drive?" my dad offered, holding out the keys to his truck.

"Yeah, I want to see you behind the wheel, Monty, giv'er," Chris agreed. I took the keys and threw my lacrosse bag in the truck bed. My learner's permit was almost up, so I could take the driving test in the next month or so.

My dad was off that night. I asked him if it was okay if I went to the gym. I wasn't sure if going to the gym counted as somewhere on his list of places that were banned. Technically, I did need to go to the gym to train. He agreed to let me go, but only because Chris had said on the way home that Sean had soccer tonight, so Dad knew I wasn't going to 'hang out.'

I didn't usually do cardio, since I got enough in running on the field at lacrosse, but I was riding the bike more for clarity than anything else. There was something soothing about the hum it made.

I hated that Chan had see me cry, but I hated even more that I had seen her cry. That was something that I hadn't intended to know about her. She was supposed to be the sexy goddess nextdoor who starred in my fantasies, not ... a real person. Part of me wanted to side with her, that I'm a teenage boy with nothing to offer her. But part of me knew I had to at least try once more. She wasn't some dumb slut I was going to bang and never talk to again. My fantasies were even changing. They used to be dirty, like she was some chick from the shitty homemade Internet porn I liked to look at before bed. Now I thought more about getting her off, about what she might taste like if I made her cum going down on her. I wished like hell there was someone I could ask about this shit. The vets on my lacrosse team wouldn't be any help, and I definitely can't ask my dad.

We made the playoffs. I wanted to be excited. This was my first varsity lacrosse playoff game. I wanted to do well, I truly did. The Grade 11s would be counted on next year, so I needed to make sure I was at my best. But how could I be at my best when I felt the worst I'd felt on the inside. I didn't even know who I was. Some days, I passed the mirror in the bathroom and it was like a ghost was passing by.

I'd killed the last algebra test. Dad gave me my camera back. That Cassie girl still smiled at me in the hall. At least she didn't hate me — even though I hated myself.

I took a slash across the shin from some loser defenceman on whatever team we were playing. Getting clubbed with a titanium-shafted stick should hurt. It took a second to sink in that the pain was external. I spotted the ball. I called over to one of the vets, grabbed the ball and passed it to him. He scored. I faked a mechanical sort of excitement.

"So are you going to come?" Chris asked, as we were about to head out of the dressing room.

"What?" I asked. We had won. I assumed there was some sort of celebration. "I don't think so, man."

"You can't keep doing this. You need to get your shit together, man," Chris said.

"What do you want me to do? She hasn't even looked at me in two weeks. I know she's avoiding me. Fuck," I replied. I was so frustrated and angry, all I wanted to do was break shit.

"Having trouble with your girl?" asked one of the vets. Smitty sauntered over to where Chris and I were standing.

"No," I said, zipping my jacket and slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"I might be able to help you out," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dime bag with two small pills inside. "Here. Two of these, and you'll be golden."

"Uh? What? No, man, I don't need help with that. And I thought that stuff was blue ..."

"No," he said, laughing. "Not that kind of help, bro. These are for your girl."

"Whoa, that's ... you want me to drug her!?"

"They're just so she'll ... loosen up a bit," Smitty said with a smirk. "Trust me, it works."

I was rattled. I wasn't sure where my dad was, but I invited some broad over. I couldn't remember where I met her, hockey maybe? Her name in my phone was "Blonde with purple jacket" — I had scrolled past a few others, including "Redhead from Soupy's party," "Puck Bunny Jenny" and "Yearbook Julie," before settling on this one. I got her to service me downstairs on the couch. I could barely keep it together long enough to blow my load.

I was walking her to the door, like a gentleman, I laughed cruelly inside my head at the irony. Then it opened. My dad didn't look too happy.

"Hey, thanks again for dropping off my homework," I said, ushering the girl, who didn't even go to my school, out the door.

"Who's that?" my dad asked.

"Just a friend," I replied. "We had to leave early today because of the game, so I got her to bring by the handout I missed in class. I'm trying to keep my marks up in my other classes, in case I can't get my grade up to a B+ in algebra." I wasn't even entirely sure what I was talking about. I watched out the front window. Chan was fumbling in her purse. She looked around in all directions and must've decided nobody was looking, because she took a key out from under a pot of mums and unlocked her door before replacing the key.

My stomach felt sick. I finally figured out what love was, and the person I feel it for hates me. How a girl could hate a guy who kissed her like I did, I don't know. Well. Chan's not a girl. She's a woman. And I'm a boy.