Ten Thousand Saints - Eleanor Henderson [103]
But what if he could find him? Wouldn’t Teddy want him to? If Queen Bea was so scared, maybe it would be easier than he thought.
“Vital Statistics?” said Rooster.
“Vital Statistics,” said Johnny. Of course.
And the next morning Rooster and Johnny went to the Forty-second Street library and located the proper wing and the proper directory and endured the bespectacled librarians’ stares at their shaved heads and tattoos—“Can we help you?” Rooster asked one—and found the proper phone number for the Dade County Department of Health, and provided the Social Security number for Edward Alvin Michaels, birth date 5/13/72. The next day, he mailed in a copy of the death certificate, and one week later, in Rooster’s mailbox, there was Teddy’s birth certificate, an even exchange. And there was the name.
Father: Ravi Milan.
They were just returning from the clinic, where Rooster had sat next to Johnny while he received another answer he’d been waiting for.
Negative.
Now Rooster gave him a tentative pat on the back. “See? Both good news.”
But Johnny stood frozen in the lobby, the mailbox door swung open, Rooster’s heavy keys hanging from the lock as though they might drop at any second.
One of you must have seen him around. You go to school with him.”
Jude’s basement was crammed with the guys who’d stayed after practice. That’s what they’d been doing: practicing. They were ready for something bigger than BB guns and cows.
“He’s having a party after graduation,” said Big Ben.
“Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
Big Ben was going. They had to drag it out of him, but he had a girlfriend and he’d promised to take her. He hadn’t wanted them to know about the girl.
Another party at Tory’s house. He would be leaving Project Graduation early, where he had to make an appearance as Prom King. The party would be getting started around midnight.
“We can’t take him on at his own party,” Delph said. “He’ll be surrounded by all his fellow pricks.”
Jude rubbed his head. “So we’ll have to do it before he gets there.”
Everyone was in. Everyone hated the guy. He was the antithesis of straight edge—the kind of prick who was still so wasted on Monday morning that he was puking in the boys’ room. He had two DUIs. He’d grabbed Matthew’s sister’s boobs. And he thought he could give them shit?
Big Ben and Delph and Kram would tell their parents they were at Project Graduation. Everyone else would say they were spending the night at Jude’s, which they would be, eventually. Everyone except Little Ben, who was still grounded from the water gun incident. He’d have to hear about it in the morning.
Okay, this is what happened.”
“Tell him, fat boy. Start at the beginning.”
“We’re in the parking lot. Of course, right? When are we not in a parking lot?”
“Just tell him about the keg.”
“You guys, shut up and let him tell me.”
“Thank you. So there’s no one around but us. We’re looking for Tory’s car. Big Ben’s on the football field, with the walkie-talkie. He’s eating goddamn elephant ears, he’s throwing balls at the dunk tank. His lady blows chunks in the Bounce House.”
“She wasn’t drinking, Kram. She gets seasick.”
“Everyone else is looking for the LeBaron. We’re cruising around, can’t find it. Just when we start to think he’s not showing, here comes Salvatore, driving right past us, already drunk as shit, you can tell. Parks like a retard. And he and his girl go stumbling onto the field—you know that chick with the really blond hair? Bangs up to here? Missy something? So we go back to waiting. In the backseat sure enough there’s a couple empty bottles of champagne. Drunk prick never learns, didn’t even lock his door. Who the fuck drinks champagne in high school? But that’s not all. We’re sitting around taking turns rail sliding down the steps and for fun Delph jimmies the trunk and inside is this keg. It’s full. And we’re all like, score. Jude’s on the walkie, he’s like, ‘We found the car, he’s here,’ and Big Ben’s like, ‘Yeah, I see him, he’s here,’ and then we start planning