In the Echo of this Ghost Town Read online

  “That was only a matter of time. Matthews is a fuckin’ prude. You all heard what Keller said about Junior Prom, right?”

  They titter.

  I’m not sure why this tightens my chest. I’d said the same thing to Tanner. Everyone had heard it. The rumor called Matthews a dead fish because of her lack of performance on prom night. I’d wondered about it then—Keller told a lot of stories. Tanner also wasn’t one to go ballistic about a rumor; there was probably more to it since it had pissed Tanner off enough for him to throw hands. Hearing someone else say shit about someone I’m realizing Tanner really cared about makes me feel something akin to protectiveness. Like I want to jump in and defend her for my boy. I recognize it as ridiculous, though. He isn’t my bro anymore, and I owe Emma nothing.

  “I was hoping he’d come with Griff tonight.”

  Bella again, and I think about her text that pissed me off.

  I notice running water.

  “Is Griff here? I thought you two were getting together.”

  “Why would I get with Griff if I had the opportunity to get with Tanner? That’s like choosing a Nissan over a Tesla.”

  “Jesus, Bella.” They all laugh.

  “It’s true. What does Griff offer anyone? The only reason anyone ever put up with him is because he’s Tanner’s friend.”

  I swallow the acidic rocks in my throat, and they splash into my gut, making nauseous waves.

  “He’ll probably end up in jail like his old man.”

  They laugh, and I slip back into my elementary school body when the running joke was if I was going to be a prison bitch like my dad.

  The ground crunches.

  I look up.

  Max is standing there.

  I swallow, feeling sick to my stomach, unable to push away from the wall. My body is a cemetery. I know Max has heard everything. I try to smile, to appear unaffected by what I’ve just heard, but I can’t get my mouth to work right. I’d come out thinking that maybe I could get with Bella, that she was interested in me, not Tanner, but there’s no doubt now.

  I don’t know what I was thinking.

  I’m not good enough.

  Max steps closer and leans against the wall next to me, shoulder to shoulder. “Griffin?” she asks, her voice muted.

  I can’t look at her. I’m embarrassed and bruised, and I don’t want her to know they were talking about me, though I’m pretty sure she already knows. They mentioned my dad, and coupled with the empathy on her face, it’s hard to mistake the pity.

  The voices are suddenly louder as they leave the bathroom. Their steps crunching against the detritus of sticks, leaves, gravel littering the ground.

  I push away from the wall, wanting to get away, but it isn’t fast enough.

  Someone mutters, “Oh shit.”

  “Griff?” Bella pulls up short when she sees me, the girls coming to an abrupt stall behind her, exchanging looks by the movement of their heads. It’s too dark to really see their eyes.

  I clear my throat, going for the insulated power of angry Griff to protect the vulnerable one that has somehow stepped outside of the box I chain him inside. “Hey.”

  Bella stutters a moment—her words starting and stopping—until she finally says, “You didn’t text me back.”

  “I was working.”

  Her words get jammed up in her mouth as she tries to come up with something else to say. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says.

  A lie.

  “Too bad I’m not Tanner, though, right?”

  She starts to say something as her girlfriends snicker, heads bent together behind her, but she stalls when she catches sight of Max. Her eyes narrow. “Who’s your friend?”

  I don’t want to introduce her. Not because I don’t want to introduce Max but because I don’t want to introduce them. Max deserves better.

  Max pushes away from the wall and steps up next to me so we make a wall. “I’m Max,” she says and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Babe?” She looks up at me with complete adoration, or so I catalogue that expression to be, even if it’s fake. “Are you ready for that swim?”

  I’m staring at Max, feeling the way she’s leaning against me, noticing the supportive strength of her hand in mine, and my distress drips down from my heart toward my feet. She’s trying to save me and even though there is no saving me, I’m okay with pretending, if only for a moment, this is real. “Sure.”

  Max looks at them. “It wasn’t nice to meet you,” she says, then draws me away past them back toward the water, my hand in hers. As we walk away, she says loud enough so they can hear, “Who the fuck were those bitches?” She keeps a hold of my hand all the way to the water. When our toes reach the water’s edge, she lets me go. “I’m sorry,” she says.

  I squeeze my fingers together into a fist noting the way my skin tingles from her touch, then cross my arms over my chest, tucking my hands up into my pits. “For what?”

  “For what happened back there.”

  “You didn’t say it.”

  She’s silent, which makes me think she’s not sure what to say. I know a lot about not knowing what to say.

  “Well, I’m sorry if I crossed a line.” She pulls her shirt over her head.

  I turn my head to look at her. Her yellow bikini top covers a lot of her skin, but it doesn’t hide her shape, which, I’m realizing, is nice. She’s rounded in all the right places. “You didn’t.” I look away, keeping my thoughts in compartments for safe keeping—looking at her feels dangerous.

  She makes a sound that whooshes air through her mouth. “I’m relieved.”

  I can tell she’s teasing me.

  “I wouldn’t want you to get any ideas, SK.” She laughs and undoes her denim shorts, pushing them off her full hips and down her legs.

  I smile despite everything else and still peek at her bikini bottoms. They cover a lot, and I think about the poster in my room that leaves very little to the imagination. I would have thought I liked that better, but Max’s swimsuit, like one of those old school ones that covers her to her belly button with the top covering most of her torso but for a slice of skin, is sexy. I force my eyes away—back to the water—and scold myself, but I’m a dude after all. This is the longest stretch of time—since before graduation— I’ve gone without sex or some version of it in the last two years. The thought makes me apologetic; Max is my friend.

  “Come on, SK. Let’s swim.” She moves into the liquid which sloshes around her as she disappears into deeper water. It’s dark now, but the moon, the stars, and the bonfire offer slices of light—enough to see by.

  “That defeats the purpose of going to a party and meeting people.” I toe off my shoes, pull off my shirt, and follow her into the water. It’s cold. I shiver and dunk myself all the way. When I emerge, I shake out my hair, causing Max to hold up her hands against the water droplets and giggle.

  “If the rest of the people are anything like the people I’ve already met tonight, I’m good.”

  I laugh. “There are probably some good ones.” Not that I know many to introduce her to.

  She goes underwater, then reemerges, her hair slicked back off of her face. By now, I’ve made it to within an arm’s reach of her. She smiles, and I imagine her dimple at the corner of her mouth. “You’re 0 for 5, SK. It’s not looking good.”

  I laugh again, drawn into our usual way of being together. “Well, as a fake serial killer, I don’t have a lot to offer in terms of friendship. You should probably branch out.”

  “That is a huge red flag.” She splashes me. “You check all the SK boxes.”

  I can’t help that I’m grinning even if I want to stay moody. It’s hard to when I’m around Max. She’s easy and fun to be with. But I don’t say anything, not sure what to say, and just tread water near her. But Bella’s words resurface and threaten to pull me under.

  What does Griff offer anyone? The only reason anyone ever put up with him was because he’s Tanner’s friend.

&
nbsp; “Are you okay, Griffin?” Max asks. “What they said was really shitty.”

  Words hit me to deflect and talk bad about them as payback, but I realize why it hurts so much. It’s the truth, or at least the one I’ve always believed about myself. Bella and her minions’ observations just reinforced it. “Truth hurts.” I figure that being upfront will reinforce the wall. Besides, I’ve already laid the worst parts of myself bare for Max earlier.

  I glance at Max, though can’t make out her details. She’s a blue shadow of herself, moving her hands back and forth in front of her through the water. She makes a humming sound in response to what I’ve said.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Who’s Tanner? Or is this the story you skipped earlier?”

  I figure I owe her something given what she’s done for me. “The same.”

  “Well?” she asks after I go silent.

  “He was my best friend.”

  “Was?”

  “We got in a fight. The night before I met you. Haven’t talked since.”

  Movement of water and the muted sound of voices at the party on the shore fills the silence around us.

  “What was it about? The fight?” she asks.

  “Something stupid.” But even as the words leave my mouth, I’m not so sure anymore. While the fight itself was probably stupid, I’m beginning to wonder if Tanner’s fight wasn’t for something bigger that I refused to understand, and the thought feels terrible. It makes me ashamed to consider that I was the one who broke our brotherhood and not the other way around.

  “If it was stupid, how come you haven’t fixed it yet?”

  Anger festers in my belly with the acidic rocks from earlier still sitting there. “I don’t think it’s like your cabinet,” I answer and cringe a bit at the bitterness in my voice, afraid I’m going to squash the one relationship I have that seems to be sort of good. I’m putting up protective walls to combat the sick feeling in my gut. Bella’s observation flipped a switch and talking about Tanner reinforces my need to be stronger.

  “You might be surprised.”

  “At what?” I turn away and swim back toward the shore. I don’t want to talk anymore. Not about this.

  “I just think that if a relationship has strong enough roots—trust, honesty, respect—then a fight won’t damage it beyond fixing,” she says, following me back to the beach.

  I climb out revved up, though I’m not sure where to direct the fury. Bella and her group’s words? Dredging up the fight with Tanner? My own inadequacy and failure? Max throwing truth? My skin feels extra tight, and my temper might burst out from me like a monster inside.

  I tug on my t-shirt. “I’m going to get a drink.”

  “Griffin. Wait.”

  I don’t listen. Instead, I force on my shoes, and stalk up the shore, into the tree line and straight for the keg. By the time Max has reached me, I’ve already paid the fee and thrown back two cups. I’m working on my third.

  “Griffin.” Max puts a hand on my forearm, and I pull away, taking another gulp of the beer.

  “What? You can’t fix me like a cabinet,” I tell her. “No matter how much you strip away these layers.”

  “I didn’t mean–” she steps away from me.

  I drain the third beer and ask for another.

  “Griffin. Stop.”

  “You aren’t my mother,” I tell her.

  Her eyes narrow. “No. I’m your ride. And you’re about to break your rules because it will fuck up your decision making.”

  I want to argue with her, but she’s right. I did share the rules with her. But instead, I smirk at her and tank the rest of the beer in my cup. Then I turn and ask for another.

  “Dude. I’m going to have to charge you again,” the guy running the keg says.

  I take out my wallet and slap another twenty down in his hand. He hands me another cup.

  “This won’t solve anything,” Max says.

  I know she’s right. I know it like I know it’s dark outside. Like I know the fire is hot. Like I know that I’ve never felt worth more than when I was friends with Tanner. I see it though, it was always because of Tanner, not me. Had I been holding the group together for all of us or just for me? Because I could see the truth? That without them I wasn’t anyone worth knowing.

  I chug it and hand it back to the guy running the keg. “Another.”

  “Dude. You should slow down. Listen to your girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I say.

  “I’m not his girlfriend,” Max says at the same time, our words crashing against each other.

  “Griff?”

  I whirl at the voice. Josh. The red-head next to him and—stop the presses—Emma Matthews. Though I was thinking about defending her earlier, seeing her now just flips the ignite switch to my resentment bomb. Rational or not, she represents the wedge that broke Tanner and me. The girl who broke up Bro Code and our brotherhood.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” I sneer, ugly, cornered Griff coming out of my mouth.

  “Bro. What’s happening?” Josh looks concerned, his brows hovering over his green eyes. He glances at Max. “Hey.”

  I watch Emma, deciding she is the object of all my misery, and then offer a condescending look to Josh. “You’d know if you texted.”

  “I’ve been travelling with the family. Haven’t been around,” he says. “You know that. What the fuck happened with Tanner?” He shakes his head, disappointed.

  “I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” I say and punctuate it with a slug of beer.

  “Hi. I’m Ginny.” Red waves to Max. “And this is Emma.”

  “Hi,” Max says but her tone lacks her usual joy.

  My fault.

  “That’s Max.” I wonder if my words are slurring, or if it’s in my head. “That’s one of my bros, Josh. Used to be.”

  Josh shakes his head. “What the hell, Griff?”

  “I heard about you earlier,” Max says.

  Josh’s eyes bounce from Max to Ginny, who shrugs, and return to Max. “I hope it wasn’t bad.”

  “Just some girls gossiping in the bathroom about some guy named Tanner and Emma.”

  “Let me guess. Bella’s crew.” Ginny crosses her arms over her chest. She glances at Emma.

  “Ding. Ding. Ding,” I sing and take another drink.

  “Don’t worry about them.” Josh pulls Red into a side hug. “You either, Emma. Can’t sweat the small stuff,” he says.

  I scoff aloud at his positivity.

  Emma’s head is bowed, her gaze on her feet. She dumped Tanner, huh? Or was it the other way around?

  “Or the small minds?” Ginny asks, looking like she’s tasted something unsavory.

  “Right.” Josh presses a kiss to Red’s temple.

  All of it pisses me off. So domestic. “You two are together now?” The way I say it isn’t nice. “Seems all of my friends are hooking up with long-term shit. Tell me Emma, how’s Tanner? He hit it and leave?”

  Emma’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t deign to respond. The ice queen turns on her heal and walks away.

  “Dick,” Ginny calls me and disappears after her.

  “What the fuck, Griff?” Josh snaps.

  “Stop, Griffin,” Max says.

  I slash my gaze to her, ready to snap and snarl and bite.

  Josh, who must sense I’m ready to go for blood, interrupts me. “Are you coming to Danny’s swearing in?”

  “I wasn’t invited.”

  “Yeah. You were. You’re just being a dick.”

  “I haven’t talked to him either. And I’ve never claimed to be anything else.” I hold out my arms as if presenting myself in all my craptastic glory.

  “We should go.” Max plucks at my t-shirt.

  “Go.” I shrug away from her touch.

  “I’m your ride.”

  I scoff. “Yeah. Right.” The sexual innuendo catches and hangs about us like old party decorations slumping after everyone has gone, needing
to be cleaned up.

  Max’s forced smile slides from her face, and her eyes narrow. “Who are you?” Then, “I don’t need this shit.” She turns to Josh. “It was nice meeting you.” She walks away.

  I watch her disappear into the crowd. “I’m shit,” I mutter, answering her question, and staring at the beer in my hand. The numbness is finally starting to infiltrate my system.

  “What are you doing?” Josh asks. His tone of voice surprises me. He’s pissed, and that isn’t usual for him. Carefree Josh who diffuses tension, doesn’t add to it, is angry.

  I will the tears burning behind my eyes to stay hidden on the inside. “I don’t–” but I stop because feral Griff won’t let me say anything that might be vulnerable and crack open the dam.

  Josh shakes his head, frustrated. “This isn’t who you are. You like to throw that around, but it isn’t.”

  I want to yell at him, cuss at him, punch him. “What do you know?” I snarl instead.

  He presses his lips together, and they thin out with anger. He nods after Max. “Was she your ride home?”

  “Yeah,” I reply.

  “Guess you better go, or you’ll be stuck.” He turns and walks away.

  He’s right. Shit. I tank the rest of the beer and go after her, slogging through the crowd down the path we walked when we arrived, alternating between self-recrimination and self-righteousness. By the time I make it to the parking lot, she’s backing the truck from the parking spot. Fortunately for me, she follows the rules despite the almost empty parking lot and drives around to get to the exit which allows me time to get into her path.

  Her headlights blind me, and the brakes squeal when she stops.

  “Get out of the way,” she says after unrolling the window. “You don’t need a ride, remember?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. The words aren’t tight and instead slip around in my mouth and mind. I know I’m supposed to say it, but I’m not exactly clear why. I just need a ride.

  “You aren’t. You’re lying.”

  “I am,” which I can say with absolute certainty. I am not sure why I’m sorry, but I follow it up with a truth: “I am sorry I am who I am.”

  I can only see the shadow of her outline in the cab of the truck as she sits there coming to a decision. She hasn’t run me over yet, even if that might be a relief.