Disclaimer and credits: iCarly is owned by Schneider's Bakery, Nickelodeon and Viacom. The Real World is owned by MTV. Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner were written by A. A. Milne. The Dumb Bunnies was written by Sue Denim. Titles are borrowed from a book by Chinua Achebe and songs by Rob Thomas, Tina Turner and John Lennon.
Chapter 2—What's Love Got to Do With It?
Spencer woke up just before dawn. His first thought, the same one he woke up to every morning, was that his mom was gone. He knew he wouldn't get back to sleep. Getting out of bed, he tucked the covers around Carly, who had kicked them off in the middle of the night. After he showered and dressed, he headed to the kitchen where Dad sat waiting for the coffee to brew. He held a newspaper in front of him like a shield. Spencer poured himself a bowl of Cocoa Crunchies and hoped they wouldn't talk.
Dad snapped the newspaper shut. "First day of senior year. Are you excited?"
Spencer shrugged.
"I envy you. Every fall you get the opportunity to make a fresh start. Maybe you'll get decent grades this year."
Spencer concentrated on stirring his cereal, which slowly turned the milk a chocolaty brown.
"I do want to speak to you about something," his father said in a less friendly tone. "Carly has slept in your bed every night this week."
Spencer chose his words carefully because he didn't want to have another fight. "I know you think children should sleep by themselves, but she's been having a lot of bad dreams."
"Rules are rules. It's simply not appropriate for a brother and sister to sleep in the same bed," said his father, getting up to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"Jesus Christ." You cannot be saying what I think you're saying. "She's five years old. Her mother just died. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I will not be talked to in that tone," he said in an infuriatingly calm voice.
Spencer picked up cereal bowl and slammed it into the sink. Milk splashed the countertop. "I'm out of here." He grabbed his backpack and left.
Far too early, he pulled into the nearly empty parking lot. He felt stupid sitting alone in his car, so he walked over to a group of kids sheltered under an overhang at the back of school. They had a reputation, and he normally wouldn't have approached them, but the school was locked and he wanted to get out of the rain. A tall, stocky kid with a bad case of acne eyed him suspiciously. "You here to buy?"
"Nah, it's raining cats and dogs and I didn't want to step in a poodle," said Spencer, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a dopey grin.
"Are you laughing at me?" The kid—Albert? Omar?—leaned forward until his nose nearly touched Spencer's. He jabbed his finger into Spencer's chest. "Because I don't like to be laughed at. "
Spencer figured that he had about five seconds to come up with the right answer when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Socko grinning into his face. "Shit, you already look fucked up." Socko put an arm around his shoulder and led him around the corner of the building. "You need something, you ask me. And stay away from Oscar. I doubt you can handle anything stronger than weed."
***
Spencer was starting to hate The Nutcracker Suite. When the nurse finally came on the phone, he leaned into his locker to block out some of the noise in the hall. "Yes, I need Dr. Mayer to call in a refill for Carly Shay…. S-H-A-Y…. January 14, 1993…. Albuterol…. Look, can we hurry? I'm almost late for class…. No…. Her older brother…. What difference does it make?… Fine, I'll make sure he calls." As the bell rang for class he slammed his locker and cursed his inability to lie.
***
After school, he drove to Briar Ridge Elementary. Carly wouldn't be dismissed for another forty-five minutes, so he parked at the end of the circle drive, rolled down the windows and leaned back in his seat. The warm sun flooding into the car lulled him to sleep. He woke to the sound of someone rapping on the windshield.
A long line of minivans stretched out behind his car. Carly was standing next to a shy-looking young woman who would have been pretty if she'd had a little bit more chin. "Are you Carly's …?"
"Her older brother," he replied, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "My dad gets off work too late to pick her up."
"I thought you were too young to be her dad," she said, opening the door to the back seat so that Carly could climb in. "I'm Ms. Sullivan, Carly's teacher." She said the words self-consciously, as though they were new to her, and held out her hand with more confidence than she probably felt.
"Well, hello, Carly's teacher," said Spencer, shaking her hand and holding on just a little longer than necessary.
Ms. Sullivan was suddenly all business. "I wanted to let you know that we have each child bring snacks one day during the first month of kindergarten. Some of the kids are too wound up to eat lunch the first few weeks, and they get hungry in the afternoon. Tomorrow is Carly's turn. No nuts. We have two children with allergies." She smiled almost apologetically.
Spencer stared into her hazel eyes and thought that if he were a couple years older, he'd ask her out. "No problem." Cars and vans were starting to pull around them. "I guess I'd better go."
***
Spencer's friendship with Socko was one of those happy coincidences that sometimes happen to military brats. Spencer's dad was posted to Virginia Beach a couple of months after Spencer's eighth birthday. Two weeks later the Krafts moved in next door. When Mrs. Kraft went back to work, Spencer's mom volunteered to watch all three boys. They spent two glorious summers at the beach—body surfing, dragging each other under the waves, building elaborate sand forts and digging for clams, while his mom lounged under a huge umbrella with a bestseller.
When they met again a few moves later, the two new kids in the Junior Class at Ridgeway High, they picked up where they'd left off. By now, Socko was a charmer and a loner, friendly to everyone but close to no one. Spencer—too awkward to be cool, too clumsy to be a jock, not smart enough to be a nerd—was just grateful not to be alone.
Spencer and Socko walked in through the garage door. Socko's mom sat at the kitchen table in her bright scrubs. Her hospital ID was still clipped to the collar of her jacket, but she had already removed one shoe to massage her foot.
Spencer asked politely, "How are you doing, Mrs. Kraft?"
"Fine, sweetie," she said, as she pulled off the other shoe. "How have you been holding up? You still miss her a lot, don't you?"
Spencer mumbled in agreement.
"Well," she sighed. "Long shift. I never did get lunch. Would you boys like some sandwiches?"
Five minutes later they were in the basement with loaded plates. Spencer collapsed onto the worn gray couch, while Socko popped Boogie Bear Takes Manhattan into the VCR. Spencer's eyes glazed as he let the sound from the movie wash over him.
During the final scene, where a giant Boogie Bear climbed up the Empire State Building and swatted helicopters out of the air, Socko snorted cola out of his nose. "This is so fucking lame, it's genius," he choked. Looking over at Spencer's blank face, he asked, "What's up? You're acting like your best friend just—Aw, shit. I didn't mean that."
Spencer shrugged. "It's OK. At least you haven't told me you're sorry. I'm sick of people being sorry." Socko grinned, a fake don't-know-what-to-say grin, and Spencer turned back to the movie. A few minutes later Socko was snickering again. Just like normal, Spencer thought. I need more normal.
As the final credits rolled, Socko glanced at the clock on the VCR. "I'd better get upstairs before Mom starts yelling about it being a school night. You can crash here if you want."
Spencer flipped through the channels. He finally settled on a Real World marathon. In the confessional, a girl was earnestly discussing losing her virginity. He knew there was a hot tub scene coming up.
He was thinking about going home when Socko's older brother came down the stairs. "Oh, hey, Tyler. You on leave?"
"I got kicked out." Tyler stared at the ground. "One of the guys in my unit saw me in a bar. With another guy."
"That sucks," said Spencer quietly.
Tyler looked Spencer in the eye. "I thought maybe with your dad in the Navy—"
"My dad and I disagree on a lot of things," Spencer said flatly.
Tyler sat down at the far end of the couch. He and Spencer watched television in companionable silence. One of the roommates got puking drunk—again—and the others discussed whether to kick her out of the house. Spencer stifled a yawn. He had just decided to go home when he felt Tyler scoot closer to him. Spencer's head jerked up in surprise, and he really looked at Tyler for the first time. He wasn't the scrawny boy from the beach anymore. His face, which had delicate features and a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, was dangerously close. Tyler lightly brushed Spencer's lips with his own and drew back with something like panic in his eyes. Spencer's first instinct was to comfort him.
"Hey, come on, it's all right," he said soothingly, wrapping Tyler in a hug. He could feel Tyler's body shaking and rubbed his back. Tyler said something so softly he couldn't hear it. "What?"
"Last time I did this it ruined everything."
Knowing how Tyler would take it, knowing he should probably say anything else, Spencer said, "Then you've got nothing left to lose."
Tyler lifted his head and leaned in for another kiss. Eventually Spencer kissed him back.
***
The next morning when his alarm went off, his eyes felt gritty and his body was screaming for more sleep. In the shower, he swayed gently on his feet and wondered if it was possible to sleep standing up. He didn't have the energy to get out until the water ran cold.
As he dressed, he had the nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something. Probably some homework assignment. It wasn't until he was dropping off Carly at school that his brain finally offered up the word "snacks." To his surprise, Carly was hysterical. "I'll flunk," she insisted. "Dad always tells you if you don't do your homework, you'll flunk." She wasn't quite crying, but her voice was shrill and high.
As he bent down next to Carly in the doorway to the gym, he saw the girls who ran the before-school care program whispering with their heads close together. They kept glancing his direction while they talked. "OK, kiddo," he sighed. "It's my fault I forgot."
By the time he picked up cheese and crackers, dropped off Carly and walked into history class, he was 35 minutes late. Mrs. Briggs glared at him. "How lovely of you to grace us with your presence, Mr. Shay. Detention. One hour for every ten minutes that you're late. Starting tonight." She smiled coldly and continued with her lecture.
***
Socko convinced him that he couldn't stay home on Friday night. When they pulled into the parking lot, music was blaring from a car stereo. Kids were clustered in tight groups on the blacktop. Socko disappeared almost immediately, leaving Spencer standing awkwardly next to a girl from his Spanish class. Alyssa? Allie? She had long black hair and heavily made up eyes. When she threw back her head to laugh at someone else's joke, he saw a glint of silver embedded in her tongue. She poured some rum into a red plastic cup and passed the bottle to him. After hesitating for a moment, he let it burn down his throat and waited for a buzz that didn't want to come.
"So," she said. I didn't see you around this summer."
He mumbled, "I was kind of busy," and hoped that she didn't notice the way he had flinched.
When he tuned back in, she was still talking. "…would have remembered you." Draining her cup, she took him by the hand. "Let's go somewhere," she said in a low voice.
She led him to a battered red Honda with a back window covered in stickers. He swayed a little as she opened the door and bumped his head climbing into the backseat. The space was so cramped that he didn't bother to shut the door, just let his feet dangle into empty space. He only expected to make out. Even after she wriggled out of her shirt and started undressing him, his brain was in such a fog that she had to guide his hand to the warm space between her legs before he understood how far she was willing to go. He followed her lead, and his body reacted in all the right ways, but he couldn't feel a thing. Afterwards the silence was awful. As they gathered up their clothes he knew that she expected him to say something, and when the only thing that came out of his mouth was "See you Monday," he knew that he deserved the flash of hatred in her eyes.