The Less-Dead Page 8

  “Here.” I shove some money into his hand. “Buy my ticket. I’m going to the bathroom.”

  After rinsing the blood off my face and neck, I stare at myself in the mirror. Besides having been mauled by a shrub, I’m not a bad-looking guy. And I’ve got a decent personality. At least, I think I do. Even guys are attracted to me. So what does Brandon have that I don’t?

  Nothing.

  Everything.

  He’s got Aubrey.

  Carson doesn’t even wait for me. Some friend. The guy at the door is holding my ticket. “Thanks.” I snatch it from his hand and walk into the theater. The lights are dim, and since it’s a low-budget Christian film, instead of previews, they’re flashing church advertisements on the screen. I look around and see the youth group sitting dead center. Brandon’s in the first row of zealots, looking all cozy sitting next to Aubrey. Beside Aubrey is Kat, and next to Kat is Carson. The loser didn’t even save me a seat. The rest of that row is filled with more zealots. To top it off, Marty is in the row behind them, waving me over.

  “Noah, dude, come on, sit over here!” As usual, Marty is trying to be all hip and cool, all relevant, all down with the teen scene. But he can’t fool me. The biggest question on Marty’s mind is So, Noah, how’s your walk with the Lord?

  “How’ve you been?” he says. “I haven’t spoken to you in a while.”

  “Fine.” I’m in no mood for Marty’s small talk. Especially when I see Aubrey laughing at one of Brandon’s jokes. I peer over and see their fingers loosely entwined. A knot twists in my stomach.

  To keep my eyes off the lovebirds, I begin reading the church advertisements, and I see one for King of Glory. A place where everyone is welcome. Anger rises in my chest. I turn to Marty and blurt out, “Actually, I recently joined another church.” I say this pretty loudly. It’s intentional. Aubrey spins around and gives me a strange look.

  “Really?” Marty says. “That’s a surprise. Which one?”

  “Westboro Baptist. Have you heard of it? It’s pretty cool. We have these awesome Bible studies, mostly from the book of Leviticus, and then we head out for some serious gay-bashing afterward. This guy I know from King of Glory, he used to go there, but he’s in jail now. Anyway, it’s very intense. You should try it sometime.” Heads are turning now. One of them is Brandon’s.

  Brandon laughs nervously. “Hey, uh, Marty … don’t take Noah too seriously, okay? He’s got one wicked sense of humor.”

  Carson narrows his eyes at me. “Yeah, Noah’s one funny guy.”

  Honestly, I can’t tell whether I’m pissed off at them or at myself. Maybe it’s both.

  I guess all the zealots have heard about their former Sunday school teacher’s double life, because they’re squirming in their seats. Lucky for them, the lights turn off and the movie begins. As the pagan aborigines slash their way through the jungle with huge machetes, Marty leans over and whispers in my ear, “I don’t think he did it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Warren Banks. Yesterday I went to visit him in jail.”

  “You visited him?”

  “Yeah. That’s what pastors do, Noah. Visit people who need help. Anyway, Banks told me his version of what happened. He said he was with Kyle the night he was killed, but they only had a drink together and talked. After that, Kyle went off with a guy who was asking for spare change. Kyle was going to take him to an all-night diner, get him something to eat. That’s the last Banks saw of Kyle Lester.”

  “And you believe that?”

  “Well, I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but he seems to be telling the truth. Plus, Banks didn’t even know the other boy who was murdered—the one found by Town Lake. And the medical examiners haven’t been able to determine yet if the boy was killed before or after Banks was arrested. Anyway, Banks is hiring a good lawyer. They’re going to fight it.”

  “But what about the whole Westboro Baptist thing? Banks was a member of that place. Those people are sick. I saw them on the news.”

  “I know. I asked Warren about that, too. He told me he’d made a huge mistake joining that church. He’d been fighting his sexual orientation for a long time. It seems he got bad advice from this radical online support group. Warren believed if he could be repulsed enough by homosexuals, it might cure him. Obviously it didn’t work.”

  “Cure him?” I shake my head. “This is unbelievable. Listen, Marty, I’m sorry, but I’m not buying that story. I think Banks is lying. I think he’s guilty.”

  Marty shrugs. “You could be right.”

  I lean back in my seat, and as I watch the movie, something nags at me. Banks claimed it was a guy in need of money who was last seen with Kyle. But who?

  Twenty minutes into the movie, I reach the conclusion that Spears in the Jungle is one of the worst films of the year. Not only is the acting atrocious, but there’s so much melodrama I want to barf. Worst of all, when the aborigines spear the missionaries, there’s no blood.

  Anyway, I must be one sick dude, because when the camera flashes back to the United States and everyone is at the missionaries’ funeral, and the seven-year-old son one of the dead guys stands up and gives a tearful speech about how proud he is of his father because he risked his life to spread God’s Word to the aborigines, I lose it and start to laugh. And once I get going, I can’t stop. Carson turns around and gives me a dirty look, and that’s when I see that he’s been crying—which makes me crack up even more.

  “Um, Noah, I think you’d better leave,” Marty says. “Now.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.” I get up, and I notice that Aubrey is doubled over in her seat. One hand is cupped over her mouth, and her shoulders are shaking. She’s laughing. A wicked surge of pleasure rises inside me. As I walk up the aisle, one of the zealots begins to clap. I turn and take a bow.

  Outside the theater, I hear someone running behind me. “Noah, wait!”

  It’s Aubrey. “Oh … hey.”

  She’s not laughing anymore. “Noah, I don’t know what to say. I just … well, how are you?”

  Depressed. Angry. Guilty. Losing my mind. All of the above. “I’m fine.” She’s not buying it. Aubrey’s always been able to read me like a book. “How about you?” I say.

  “Okay, I guess. It’s been pretty crazy at home, though. The police have been at my house questioning my father about Warren Banks. And after that second boy was murdered, they came back. They think my father should know something, since he’s the pastor of our church, but he doesn’t. The whole thing’s so strange. And scary.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been pretty freaked out over it too.” I wish I could tell Aubrey everything. About Will. How I ruined our friendship by acting like a jackass. How he might be in danger. But I can’t. Not now. “Hey, Aubrey? Marty told me he visited Warren Banks in prison. Has your father gone?”

  She nods. “Just the other day. He thinks Banks is innocent too. I’m not sure why, because he won’t talk to me about it.”

  We stand there for a while looking at each other, and a lump wells up in my throat. I miss Aubrey so much. I want to ask her to come with me now. We could drive to Kerbey Lane, order lemonade and chips with chili queso. Talk for hours. Laugh. Like we used to do. But of course I can’t.

  Instead, I say, “Well, I guess you’d better get back to the movie. You don’t want to miss the exciting part. You know, when they shish-kebab the missionaries. I heard that was the plot twist. Pretty cool, huh? The aborigines are cannibals.”

  She gives me a wry smile. “Yeah, you’re right, Noah. I better go.”

  “Aubrey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “A lot of things have happened lately. Things I can’t go into right now. And, well, I know you’re busy with Brandon and all, but Carson and I have a gig at this place called the Red Room. It’s an underground club on Seventh and Neches. This guy I know, Will, he set it up for us. Anyway, it’s a long story, but I was wondering if you might want to hear us play. The show’s next Saturda
y. Ten o’clock.”

  She nods slowly. “Sure, I’d love to come.”

  I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I let it out. “Great. Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

  {twelve}

  “HEY, NOAH, what do you think of a punk-slash-emo version of ‘Amazing Grace’?”

  Carson and I have been practicing for our gig all week, and I’m seriously about to lose it. After seeing Spears in the Jungle, he had this major conversion experience—prayed with Marty and everything—and now he wants to be baptized. “You know what I think?” I set down my guitar and hold up a hand, measuring one inch between my forefinger and thumb. “I think I’m this close to marching into the DPCP’s bedroom and telling him what you’ve been up to.”

  Carson’s eyes grow wide. “Dude, you wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, yes I would. Now, enough of this punk hymnal crap. You need to get to work on ‘Flesh-Eating Zombies.’ We’ve got our first real show in two days, and right now, your lyrics still suck, and the music’s not that great either.”

  I pick up my guitar and start plucking the melody of my anti-love song for Aubrey. I’ve finished writing the lyrics, but I’m having serious doubts about their potential effectiveness.

  I glance at Carson. He’s slumped over his guitar, and there’s a hurt look on his face. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry. Really, man. I shouldn’t have said that. And if you want to do a punkemo, whatever, version of ‘Amazing Grace,’ fine. I mean, just because it’s not my thing doesn’t mean it’s not yours.”

  “Hey, Noah? What’s been eating you lately? Ever since we came back from the greenbelt, you’ve been on edge. Something happened between you and Will. When you guys were writing that song for Aubrey. I know it.”

  I chew the inside of my cheek.

  “Did Will make a pass at you?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Come on, I’m joking. Look, Noah. It’s not a crime to feel weirded out if a guy’s into you. It’s a normal reaction. What matters is what you do with it. Plus, with the way you’ve been brought up, it’s not a surprise that you’re having a hard time.”

  I glare at Carson. “I already told you I don’t believe any of that shit.”

  “Well, maybe you’re not as tolerant as you thought.”

  “Oh yeah? Let me ask you something, Mr. Holy Roller. Why are you so gung ho about the church scene when you know damn well their stance on gay people? They’re all going to hell, didn’t you know?”

  “Not according to Marty.”

  “Oh? Have you asked him about it? Because I guarantee—”

  “Yes. I have asked him. In fact, we had a long conversation about it. He told me that he’s struggled with that teaching for a long time, and personally doesn’t agree with it. And he doesn’t think gays should try to be straight either. But he said change has to come from inside the church, and he thinks the youth group can be a catalyst.”

  “A catalyst? Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Noah? Why do you hate Marty and the youth group so much? I mean, they’re really nice. At least, they are to me.”

  I sit there for a while. There’s a brick in my stomach. “I don’t hate them, Carson. It’s just, well, it ticks me off how they think there’s only one way to God—their way. I just don’t buy that. I never have. My parents tried to brainwash me with that crap from birth. The thing they don’t get is I have a mind of my own, and I intend to use it.”

  “Yeah, I understand what you mean. But the youth group’s different from church. Marty’s way cooler than Pastor Simpson, and way more open-minded. And it’s hard to explain, but ever since that night I prayed with Marty, I feel so much better. Like … happy. And maybe this sounds lame, but free, too.”

  “Hmmm, maybe it’s all those sins you repented from—drunkenness, rebellion, witchcraft—”

  “Come on, Noah, I’m serious! I’m not cut out to be an atheist. I like believing in God.”

  “All right, fine. Believe in God. But let me ask you something. And be honest. Does this conversion have anything to do with Kat? More specifically, the possibility of getting into her pants?”

  Carson looks up at the ceiling. “Well, I have to admit, that would be a perk and all, but—”

  “See? I’m telling you, man, enjoy the good vibes now, because pretty soon Marty’s gonna break the news: no sex before marriage.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured that. But I was thinking, what if I have sex with Kat, then repent, then maybe do it again and repent? I mean, that could work, right?”

  “You’re pathetic.”

  “I know, I know. Anyway, I suppose I could wait. It would be rough, but the truth is I care about Kat. A lot. I’ve never felt this way about a girl before. And I like being with Marty and the youth group.”

  I sigh. “Whatever turns you on, man.”

  “Noah? Tell me the truth. What happened between you and Will?”

  “Nothing happened. Drop it, dude.”

  “You acted like a jerk, didn’t you?”

  “Will said some things that freaked me out. I didn’t know how to react. So, yeah, I acted like a jerk. Gave him the brush-off. I’ve been feeling guilty about it all week. Are you happy now?”

  Carson nods. “I figured it was something like that. Listen, Noah, don’t beat yourself up over it, all right? Besides, we’ll see Will Saturday night at the Red Room. You’ll work it out.”

  “I hope so. I just thought I was different, you know? Thought I could handle anything. Truth is, I was an asshole. I really let him down.”

  “Hey, it happens to everyone. Come on, let’s get to work. We’ve got some songs to practice.”

  Friday afternoon, Hawk walks into ISS, hands Mr. Briggs another referral note, and takes a seat behind me. A few seconds later he taps me on the shoulder and passes me a note.

  When I turn around, Hawk has once again vanished.

  {thirteen}

  “TESTING … ONE, two, three. Testing …”

  While Carson messes with the PA system, I grab my guitar, take a seat onstage, and watch people mill about the Red Room. The place is kind of a dump—broken floor planks, dirty windows, Christmas lights strung across the rafters—but I like it. We’re the second of two bands tonight, which is lucky, because most of the audience from the first set is hanging around to hear us play. Will was right. The Red Room definitely draws an alternative crowd, and even though I’m not 100 percent comfortable, I’m doing all right. I’m trying. While I’m fingering the notes to “Devil Inside My Head,” Carson leans over and says, “Hey, Noah, look over there. It’s Quindlan.”

  I look up. Quindlan smiles and waves. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” I hop off the stage and weave through the crowd. “Quindlan, hey, I’m glad you’re here. Have you seen Will?”

  “Not yet. He stopped by the Drag this afternoon. Asked me and Doomsday to come tonight, but Dooms won’t set foot in this venue. Too many pagans, I guess. Anyway, Will should be here soon. He told me he had to run back to the greenbelt. He accidentally left his book there—you know, the one he writes poetry in.”

  “Noah! We’re on in five minutes,” Carson calls.

  “I’d better go. But do me a favor? Keep an eye out for Will. Tell him I need to talk to him after the show.”

  Back onstage, Carson and I recheck the PA system, and even though my guitar is perfectly tuned, I tweak the strings one last time. I scan the room for Aubrey and finally spot her walking through the back door. Kat follows, and behind her are Brandon and Marty. Great. Aubrey holds out her hand while the bouncer whips out a felt pen and scrawls an X on it.

  “Oh, good, there they are.” Carson waves. “Hi, Kat!” He turns to me. “Hey, Noah, I invited Marty and Brandon, too. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I give Carson an icy glare. “Mind? Why would I mind?”

  He sighs. “Sorry, dude. I just need a little support when I sing ‘Amazing Grace.’ Plus, isn’t this what we want? King of Glory members hanging out in a gay club? I
told you Marty was open-minded.”

  “Whatever.” I look at Aubrey, and my stomach plummets.

  “Noah?” Carson reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s forget everything and have a great time tonight. Just think about the music. How much we love it. That’s all.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Come on, it’s time,” I say. “Let’s do it.” We take our places at the mikes. The room is packed.

  “Hey, everyone! Thanks for making it out to the Red Room tonight!” Carson yells. The crowd whistles and cheers, which gets my adrenaline flowing. We begin with the Kinks’ “You Really Got Me.” I wanted to play it for Will—I know he’d get a kick out of it—but he’s still not here. Even so, the song turns out to be a great opening number. We’ve got the crowd’s attention. They’re all moving their heads to the beat and singing along. After that, Carson rocks out with “Flesh-Eating Zombies,” which doesn’t sound half bad, and next I play “Devil Inside My Head.”

  We do a few more songs that Carson and I wrote together. Our voices are on tonight, and the harmonies sound sweet. The crowd even digs Carson’s version of “Amazing Grace.” One guy shouts, “Hallelujah!” and another one chimes in, “Amen!”

  Then it’s my turn to go solo. I take one last look around the room. Still no Will. “Um, hi, everyone. I’m Noah. I’d like to do a song that I finished writing just a few days ago. It’s for a girl I know.”

  Suddenly the room becomes deathly quiet. I can’t even bear to glance in Aubrey’s direction. I take a deep breath, play the intro, blow a few bars on the harmonica, and sing.

  “I really hate your face,

  Hate you were my friend in the first place,

  Now there’s nothing left to do,

  But sing this anti-love song to you.

  “You pressed me up against that tree,

  in the woods—crucified me,

  Kissed me, but never said you’d be

  There for me,

  Can’t you see