Whitley, a funny guy. Kind of skinny and hyper, but really friendly. Hehung out with him a couple of times after school. Jordan lived pretty close to the school, while Tom had to drive his little red truck all the way from Virgin River every day. Also, Jordan’s parents were divorced, he was an only child and his mom worked—which freed up Jordan’s house until about six. As long as Tom got home before dinner, in time to take care of the horses, it was no big deal to go over there for a little while after school.
Tom also learned that there were frequent keggers at an abandoned rest stop area right at the edge of Virgin River. Weekend parties that Jordan really wanted him to attend, but Tom always had an excuse. He didn’t know anyone but Jordan. And he was quiet about the fact that he had a house to himself for a few days every other week or so while Walt went to Bodega Bay. He wasn’t about to be overrun by Jordan and his tribe—if Walt ever found out, he’d be dead meat.
Jordan somehow managed to score beer at his house. After-school beer. Tom was very careful about that because if the general smelled it on his breath he was toast. But the other thing Jordan had going on was girls. He seemed to always have a different girl. So far Tommy hadn’t seen one that got him excited—Jordan didn’t seem to draw the really pretty ones. But it was kind of fun to go over to his house and get all the flirtatious attention bestowed on him, being the new kid and not that bad looking.
“Come on over to my buddy Brendan’s Friday night,” Jordan invited. “We’re gonna get lucky.”
“Yeah?” Tommy grinned. “Who you gonna get lucky with?”
“I’ve got this girl who wants me so bad she can’t hold herself back. And she’s on the pill.”
“So you want me to come over and watch you get lucky? I might have to pass on that,” he said with a laugh.
“She’s bringing a girlfriend,” Jordan said.
“I might come by for a beer,” Tommy said. “Let me think about it. I don’t know this Brendan guy.”
“He’s cool,” Jordan said. “He graduated a couple of years ago, and when his mom goes out of town, which she does a lot, the house is his. And if we get lucky, we can get lucky all night long, if you get my drift.”
“Oh, I get your drift,” he said. And he was thinking, you idiots. You don’t go banging the local girls who advertise they’re on the pill. He wasn’t stupid—that’s how you got stuff. Bad stuff. An image of telling his dad he had the drip sent shivers up his spine.
But he went. He popped the top on two beers, total, without finishing either one; he knew better than to drink anything out of a keg or punch bowl. There was a little pot floating around, though not everyone indulged. Tommy didn’t get near that shit. Too risky for a kid planning on West Point; too risky for a boy with a father like Walt, who would dismember him before killing him.
The girlfriend who was earmarked for Tom if he was interested was way too aggressive and ready for anything, and he just couldn’t see it. Plus, Jordan and Brendan were busy getting everyone as shit-faced as possible, as quickly as possible, and there was nothing quite as funny to watch—but inevitably boring. He finally slipped away about nine without anyone really noticing he was gone.
The next Monday morning at school Jordan excitedly asked, “Where’d you go, man?”
He shrugged. “I had to get home. My dad is pretty strict.”
“Yeah, but we had beer and girls!”
“I had a couple of beers,” he said. “And the girls… Well, I didn’t meet one I really liked.”
That made Jordan laugh almost hysterically. “Well, so what? You’re not…? You don’t still have your cherry, do you, man?”
In fact, he did. “’Course not,” he said, because what do you say to something like that? Tom hadn’t made it with a girl, but not because he couldn’t. Because he was very careful and he and the last girlfriend back in D.C.
Tom also learned that there were frequent keggers at an abandoned rest stop area right at the edge of Virgin River. Weekend parties that Jordan really wanted him to attend, but Tom always had an excuse. He didn’t know anyone but Jordan. And he was quiet about the fact that he had a house to himself for a few days every other week or so while Walt went to Bodega Bay. He wasn’t about to be overrun by Jordan and his tribe—if Walt ever found out, he’d be dead meat.
Jordan somehow managed to score beer at his house. After-school beer. Tom was very careful about that because if the general smelled it on his breath he was toast. But the other thing Jordan had going on was girls. He seemed to always have a different girl. So far Tommy hadn’t seen one that got him excited—Jordan didn’t seem to draw the really pretty ones. But it was kind of fun to go over to his house and get all the flirtatious attention bestowed on him, being the new kid and not that bad looking.
“Come on over to my buddy Brendan’s Friday night,” Jordan invited. “We’re gonna get lucky.”
“Yeah?” Tommy grinned. “Who you gonna get lucky with?”
“I’ve got this girl who wants me so bad she can’t hold herself back. And she’s on the pill.”
“So you want me to come over and watch you get lucky? I might have to pass on that,” he said with a laugh.
“She’s bringing a girlfriend,” Jordan said.
“I might come by for a beer,” Tommy said. “Let me think about it. I don’t know this Brendan guy.”
“He’s cool,” Jordan said. “He graduated a couple of years ago, and when his mom goes out of town, which she does a lot, the house is his. And if we get lucky, we can get lucky all night long, if you get my drift.”
“Oh, I get your drift,” he said. And he was thinking, you idiots. You don’t go banging the local girls who advertise they’re on the pill. He wasn’t stupid—that’s how you got stuff. Bad stuff. An image of telling his dad he had the drip sent shivers up his spine.
But he went. He popped the top on two beers, total, without finishing either one; he knew better than to drink anything out of a keg or punch bowl. There was a little pot floating around, though not everyone indulged. Tommy didn’t get near that shit. Too risky for a kid planning on West Point; too risky for a boy with a father like Walt, who would dismember him before killing him.
The girlfriend who was earmarked for Tom if he was interested was way too aggressive and ready for anything, and he just couldn’t see it. Plus, Jordan and Brendan were busy getting everyone as shit-faced as possible, as quickly as possible, and there was nothing quite as funny to watch—but inevitably boring. He finally slipped away about nine without anyone really noticing he was gone.
The next Monday morning at school Jordan excitedly asked, “Where’d you go, man?”
He shrugged. “I had to get home. My dad is pretty strict.”
“Yeah, but we had beer and girls!”
“I had a couple of beers,” he said. “And the girls… Well, I didn’t meet one I really liked.”
That made Jordan laugh almost hysterically. “Well, so what? You’re not…? You don’t still have your cherry, do you, man?”
In fact, he did. “’Course not,” he said, because what do you say to something like that? Tom hadn’t made it with a girl, but not because he couldn’t. Because he was very careful and he and the last girlfriend back in D.C.
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