DOMINION Bentley Little (accelerated reader books .TXT) 📖

merely classmates. On Thursday, however, Dion caught her looking at him when she thought his attention was directed elsewhere, and that cheered him up immensely.

He and his mother had not spoken since the beginning of the week, the night she hadn’t come home until nearly ten. This time she really had been drunk, old-style drunk, staggering, laughing, talking to herself, her speech slurred. She had ignored him that night, ignored his attempts to talk to her, to find out what had happened and why, and he had been ignoring her ever since, trying to punish her with his pointed silence, although it didn’t seem to be working. He was more disappointed than anything else, more hurt than angry, but she probably thought he was furious at her. It was a tense situation, and one that wasn’t getting any better, and he was dreading the weekend.

Dion saw Kevin in the parking lot after school, standing next to a red Mustang, talking to a long-haired boy he didn’t recognize. He’d been planning to walk straight home, but Kevin called out his name, motioned him over, and Dion crossed the asphalt to where the other two boys waited.

Kevin turned toward Dion as he approached. “So what’re your plans for tonight? What’re you doing? Twanging your tater?”

“Could be. I got this picture of your sister I bought last week.”

Kevin laughed. “Well if you’re not doing anything, you want to go cruising around with us? Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and find us some hitchhikers.” He pointed at the license plate frame on the back of the Mustang. Written on the thin metal was the stock phrase “Ass, Gas, or Grass: No One Rides for Free.” Underneath this had been attached an addendum: “And I have a full tank and I don’t smoke.”

Dion laughed.

“Whattaya say?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not gonna pussy out on us, are you?”

Dion thought for a moment. The phrase cruising around carried connotations of passed bottles and passed joints in dark car backseats, images which made him extremely uncomfortable. On the other hand, he didn’t want to alienate the only friend he’d made here so far. He looked at the long-haired kid leaning against the hood of the Mustang, and turned back toward Kevin. “Where’re you going to go?”

“We’re going to have some fun with Father Ralph.”

“Who’s Father Ralph?”

“Episcopal priest,” Kevin said.

The long-haired kid grinned. “My dad.”

Dion shook his head. “I’d like to, but I already have some plans. Maybe next time.”

Kevin looked at him. “What plans do you have? Sitting at home with your mom? Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Dion felt his options narrowing. “What are we going to do?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” the long-haired kid said.

“Paul always likes to keep it a secret,” Kevin explained, “retain the element of surprise. But I guarantee you it’ll be great.”

“It’s not illegal, is it?”

“Fuck it,” Paul said. “This guy’s a pussy. Let’s leave him.”

“No.” Kevin moved defensively next to Dion. “I go, he goes.”

“That’s okay—” Dion began.

“No, it’s not. You want to sit with your momma and watch the damn TV while we’re harassing Father Ralph and looking for bimbos?”

Yes, Dion wanted to answer, but he said, “No.”

“Fine.” Kevin nodded to Paul. “We’ll meet you at eight at Burgertime.”

Paul shrugged his shoulders, smiling indulgently. “See you there, then.”

Paul got into the Mustang, racing his engine, and Dion and Kevin walked across the parking lot toward Kevin’s Toyota. “He’s kind of a wang sometimes,” Kevin said apologetically, “but overall he’s all right. You get used to him.”

“You guys hang out together a lot?”

“Not as much as we used to.”

“So why does he hate his dad so much?”

“He doesn’t hate him. It’s just… well, it’s a long story.” They reached the car, and Kevin used his key to open the door. “We’ll go by your place, tell your mom the plan, then we’ll cruise by my house.”

“Okay,” Dion said. “Sounds good.”

“Unless you want to skip telling your mom, give her a little scare, pay her back, let her wait up for you this time.”

“I’d like to, but I’d better not.”

“It’s your call,” Kevin said.

The two of them got into the car, and Kevin put his key in the ignition.

“Fasten your safety belts.”

Before Dion could comply, they were off.

Kevin’s room was the type usually seen only in movies. The walls were decorated with what looked like authentic posters of old horror films sandwiched in between an amazing collection of metal signs: stop signs, street names, yield signs, Coke signs. From the ceiling hung a lit display advertising 7-Up.

The shelves above the king size waterbed contained row after row of records. In the corner, next to the freestanding television, was a working traffic signal, flashing green-yellow-red in sequential order, and next to that stood an old life-size cardboard cutout of Bartles and Jaymes. Dion stood in the doorway, taking it all in. “Wow,” he said.

Kevin grinned. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Dion stepped into the room. “Where’d you get all this?”

“Around.”

“Did you—?”

“Steal it? No. My uncle did, though. Some of it. He used to work for the transportation department in San Francisco, but they fired his ass. Before he left, he took a few souvenirs.” Kevin laughed, pointing toward the stoplight. “I don’t know how he got that one.”

“This is great!”

“Yeah.” Kevin scooped a pile of coins from the top of the dresser into his hand and grabbed a small wad of bills. “Come on, let’s hit the road.”

“I thought we weren’t going to meet him until eight.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to hang around here all night. We’ll find something to do. Let’s go.”

They ended up simply driving around aimlessly. Dion asked where Penelope’s winery was, and Kevin took him down a narrow road which ran along the edge of the foothills just outside of town. He stopped the car for a moment, pointed at a large white wrought iron gate.

“Beaver-chomping territory beyond them there walls.”

Dion tried to see something, anything, on the other side of the gate as they passed, but the daylight was gone,