He spent a vaguely horrible rest of the morning, wandering in and out of shops, eating a ham sandwich without tasting it, half expecting a police car to pull up next to him any minute and thoroughly miserable because it never happened. Nobody even noticed that he wasn't where he was to supposed to be, apparently. Or if they did, they didn't care enough to come look for him.
Late-ish in the afternoon, he wasn't sure what time it was since his watch had decided to stop, he was brooding on a bench in Central Park when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Yo, Reagan."
Billy Carlotti had two friends with him, slightly slimy-looking fellows, and Jamie figured that it was just the perfect addition to an already awful day.
"Hey, Billy," he said, giving the older boy a reluctant smile.
"You skipping class?"
"Nah, I got sent home by the nurse."
"Sweet," Billy laughed, entirely too loudly, and Jamie noticed that his nose was runny. "You've got all the luck in the world, don't you, Reagan?"
"I guess." Jamie shrugged noncommittedly once again, keeping a firm eye on Billy's friends. One of them kept rubbing his arm, almost obsessively, while the other sucked at his teeth with a single-minded focus. He was willing to bet that they were all high as kites, the three of them.
And he found himself not caring half as much as he should have.
"You skipping school?" he asked Billy.
Billy seemed surprised. It was no small wonder, Jamie reckoned, since he'd always rebuffed Billy's overbearing attempts at being friendly. At first because he'd been intimidated by the large, rough boy, and later because Mom and Dad had given him strict orders to. Billy had offered him weed at the school's back gate only once, but that was enough for Mom and Dad to put him on the blacklist of Kids Jamie Will Not Be Anything More Than Courteous With.
"Well, yeah," Billy said, as if the last word had almost been 'duh!'. "We're heading over to a party on 22nd street later tonight. You wanna come?"
"What time?" Jamie asked, to his own surprise.
"Sometime after 9. Hey, I can pick you up if you want? I don't figure you have wheels of your own."
"I dunno," Jamie shrugged. "I'm not even sure I want to come to your party."
Billy lifted his palms.
"Hey, no pressure, bro. But you let me know, huh? You look like you could loosen up a little."
"Do you have the time on you?"
"Just past five."
Jamie startled involuntarily. It was a lot later than what he had thought. Subconsciously, perhaps, he had been quite deliberately dawdling, but he hadn't planned on staying away until Dad actually returned.
"Shit, I've got to get home."
Billy clapped him on the shoulder.
"Call me, hey?"
"Yeah, sure," Jamie said, although he didn't mean it.
Dad's car was in its usual spot and the light was on in the kitchen when he got home. Through the window, as he walked up to the door, he could see the big kitchen clock indicating that it was seven minutes to six. He stepped inside the silent kitchen, his heart beating impossibly loud in his own ears.
The roast chicken was still next to the sink, soggy and miserable in its own water. It looked about as appetizing as a freshly skinned toad.
Jamie shrugged his backpack from his shoulders and went through the door into the hallway. Dad was sitting in his usual chair, file in his lap, cradling a glass of amber liquid.
He looked up briefly when Jamie stopped in the doorway, but it was as thought he was looking straight through him.
"Hi, Dad," Jamie said.
Back when things were normal, the reply would have been something to the effect of "don't you 'hi, dad' me, young man". But then again, back when things were normal Jamie wouldn't have pulled a stunt like this in the first place.
"Hi, Dad," Jamie said again.
This time Dad looked vaguely at him and nodded, smiling thinly.
"Hi, kiddo."
The silence seemed to stretch indeterminably between them and Jamie could feel the beginnings of a headache creeping up on him.
"I got a C in Science," he said, desperate to stop the silence before it filled the entire house.
"Hm." Dad flicked the page in front of him. "You go ahead and eat."
"Dad," Jamie said. "I didn't ask if you wanted to eat, I said a got a C in Science."
"Oh?" Dad said. He looked up at Jamie again, frowning a bit. But then he looked down at the file again, took a sip of his scotch. Jamie could almost see him fading into sepia, like an old movie, before his eyes. You couldn't have reached him anymore than you could have reached one of the figures jittering about on those old reels.
Jamie went upstairs, somehow at the same time angrier than he had ever been in his entire life, and also more frightened than he had ever been. He called Billy Carlotti's house from the phone in the hallway.
It was answered by a maid – Billy's parents were stinking rich – and when Billy sniffed into the phone Jamie didn't waste any time.
"Can you still come pick me up for the party?"
Billy whistled and whooped.
"Of course, bro, of course! You'll have a real good time, hey, a real good time."
"I'm sure," Jamie said stiffly. "Now, listen. I'll meet you at the end of the street, alright?"
"No problem." Billy chuckled. "Your old man not exactly up for this whole party, hey? No worries, I won't roll up in front of your house all dressed up and somewhere to go."
Jamie was quiet for a minute, wondering to himself why he was asking Billy to meet him at the end of the street. It wasn't as if Dad would notice, and if he'd notice, it wasn't likely that he'd care.
"Scratch that. Pick me up in front of my house, it's fine."
Which Billy did, about half an hour later. He was slicked up and smelling strongly of body spray, and Jamie felt a little underdressed in his simple jeans, t-shirt and jacket. Billy smiled wildly at him, though.
"Are you high?" Jamie asked, as he slid into the passenger seat.
Billy chortled.
"Me, high? Not while I'm driving, bro. Do you think I'm stupid?"
Jamie didn't reply, and he didn't quite believe Billy either. But he found, to his surprise, that he didn't care very much. Here he was, climbing into a known pothead's car, who may or may not be high at that very moment. On a school night, right in front of his own house. Where not a mouse stirred, as Jamie wrapped the seatbelt around him and sent up a quick Hail Mary as Billy careened away from the sidewalk.
