I Would

Chapter 4 "You talked to Spot recently?"

I put Spot's key on the chain of an old dog tag necklace I thought was cool circa seventh grade, and wore it under my t-shirt to school on Monday. For some reason, the thing was weighing on my mind like it was the fuckin' One Ring or something. I couldn't stop fiddling with it, snatching at it through my shirt and twisting it with my fingers all day. I probably looked like I had a rash. Or heartburn. No one said anything though, and I was kinda surprised about that. I felt like I had a spotlight on my head and a dude in livery walking in front of me yelling, MAKE WAY! HIS IDIOCY JAMES "SKITTERY" O'LEARY HAS SPOT CONLON'S KEY.

But people weren't making way for me. They were ignoring me. As per fucking usual. My jeans were dirty, my hair looked like a badly groomed poodle, and the neck of my t-shirt was stretched out and frayed. My hoodie had holes in the cuffs. Now I didn't particularly give a flying fuck about fashion. I mean, who was I there to impress? No one. But I couldn't help noticing that Monday that I looked like a hobo. And these fucking clones were trained to look right past me. They couldn't be bothered to look at something unpleasant. I watched them all, with their expensive, well fitting clothes and their fancy phones.

Well, I'd tried fitting in with them before. But if you don't have the bottomless pool of cash like these assholes, they can tell. Doesn't matter to them if you are wearing almost exactly what they wear. They can tell you don't shop where they shop.

Fuck 'em.

Fuck 'em all.

Even Mush.

Especially Mush. Because not even Mush said a word to me today when I passed him. And the fucker and I made eye contact for a good five seconds. And it wasn't like the Cowboy was around to make him stop talking. I was gonna ask him about the key, ask him why he'd given it to me, why he'd left so suddenly...but he just turned away with that politician's grin, bestowing it upon someone else.

Damnit. He was just another of those fucking people. I headed off to sewing (fucking sewing) dearly wishing I could skip it, just get in my car and drive away. But if I didn't show up to my last period, I'd fail out, and if you fail out of English, you fail out of High School in general. And as much as I hated to admit it, I had too much pride to drop out like my asshole brother. I clutched at the key again, my thoughts standing off, brother against brother, having a fucking civil war.

What the fuck was I thinking, going over to Mush's? Why did I make myself feel...I dunno...chosen? Mush was one of the popular kids. I should have known. I was just entertainment. Let's adopt the pathetic outcast kid. Get him drunk, see what he does. And I went along. And today, nothing.
And Mush was at my house, giving me fucking weird cryptic birthday gifts, acting all hurt when I say it's not like were even friends. Well fucking played, asshole. See if I ever fall for your sham of a friendship again.

I knew that now I should angrily rip Spot's key off my neck and throw it in the garbage in disgust. I was holding on to it now. I'd taken it out of the collar of my shirt, and I was scratching it with my thumbnail, letting it scritch quietly. But I couldn't.

"Hey, Skit."

I looked up. It was Pie. "Oh, hey Pie." I'd forgotten Pie was also an outcast of Jack's little gang. All of us were` at the party, with the nicknames, like the ones our parents gave us weren't good enough. It was a middle school thing. From when I was like fourteen. It was stupid. We were all hanging around a lot one summer, wandering around the little "downtown" area of Oak Glen, picking fights with other kids, feeling all self righteous about ourselves. Hangin' around at Tibby's cause the old lady who ran the place let us have free refills of Mountain Dew and french fries. Before high school separated us into clones and normal people. I'd begun to think we still had some semblance of friendship at the party but, you can never tell with OG clones. They can hide anything behind those shiny, straight white teeth.

"You shoulda come on the retreat with me and Gabby," Pie said, sitting down at the sewing machine next to me. "It was eye opening. And really fun."

"Naw, Pie, you know I don't go in for that bullshit."

"Well, to each his own. But I mean, what else were you gonna do this weekend?"

"I just...hung around."

"See?" Pie grinned like he'd won a bet. "It woulda been fun."

"Yeah."

"Next time, then," Pie said, like I'd confirmed a date with him. I didn't know what would be worse, pretending to be a religious jock like Gabby and Pie and going on retreats, or pretending that Mush and them actually thought I was worth the space I inhabited.
At least at Mush's I never had to fake pray. It hadn't actually been a bad night. Maybe I was reading too much into things.

I continued sewing.

And I began to hatch a plan.

My last class of the day was English, and Mush was in it. I'd corner him after class, and make him talk. And he would tell me about Spot. Yeah.

Yeah.

Some master plan.

But after English, before the bell even rang, while everyone was milling about getting ready to run, Mush actually plopped his designer jean-covered ass on my desk and announced that I was coming with him after school.

"Um, where?" I asked. My hand itched to mess with Spot's key again, but I kept it down.

"Well...where do you wanna go?"

I stared at him. He was grinning at me a little shyly. All top teeth.

"I mean, let's just hang out, you know? We were out of touch for a long time. Lets go somewhere. Hey, you know where I haven't been in a million years? Tibbys. Hell, I bet Ole Aggie still gives us a plate of fries just for sitting down. Yeah." The bell rang. "Lets go."He was being oddly cute again, like at the police station and when I showed up at the party. Like a puppy. It was disarming. I almost smiled.

Okay, I smiled.

I also followed him out to his car and into the restaurant trying to talk to him like we were actually friends. I felt like I sounded fake, like I was reading someone else's lines in a play. It wasn't too bad though. In all honesty, he chattered away most of the time, talking about non-things like homework and girls and some stupid movie he'd seen on Sunday.

After our customary Mountain Dews and french fries, we were flinging crumpled up salt packets at each other, and the server dropped the bill with an expression that told us she'd rather be anywhere else.

"See?"Mush said suddenly. "I knew we could still have fun together."

I was momentarily surprised that we were having fun. The good, old-fashioned, non-alcoholic kind. I smiled. "Yeah."

And then I had icy anxiety course down right behind my breastbone. Right behind Spot's key. Because I knew now was the time to bring it up. And really, Mush had made it easy.

And what, exactly, was I afraid of again?

Yeah. Nothing. Grow some balls, Skitt.

"So, Mush. You talked to Spot recently?"I had guessed he'd be expecting this question, and I was right. He only missed half a beat.

"Not since we moved." Mush and I had moved the same year. Friends in VanBuren, we thought we'd continue to stay friends in Oak Glen. Well, we had, mostly. Except for high school. Until now.

"So, um, how did you get his key?"

"He, ah, gave it to me."Okay, I thought, that's a boldface lie. Spot Conlon would not have given that key to anyone. From what I remembered, he'd been a pretty calm guy. Not too outrageous. Didn't have to be. He was like the genius demure guy in the suit in movies who controls legions of dumb thugs. But you ever touch his key, and that kid would fight like a trapped badger. I saw some idiot touch it once. Just reached out and grabbed the thing. His name was Ron, but now everyone called him Scar, courtesy of Spot's key dragged down the side of his face. Rumor was that Spot's parents had left him a ton of cash or a giant diamond or something, and the key was to a safe deposit box in the big bank downtown.

I took the key out of my shirt. "Why?" I asked, holding the key out to look at it. It was an old silver key. The center of it was thick and round, and on either side the teeth of the key looked like city skylines. "Why trust you? Cause obviously he couldn't. I mean, you gave the thing to me."

Mush was staring at the key. "No. I mean, yes I gave it to me. But... He could trust me." He lowered his voice in volume and timbre. "Put that away, Skittery."

I felt suddenly like someone was watching me. I stuffed it down my shirt. Looked behind me. No one. A family. Mom, dad, baby. No one I knew. "Why you? Why did he need to trust you? Why can't you keep it?"

"Hey, let's let my mom take us out, yeah?"Mush said, incongruously and a little too loud. He produced a slick looking credit card from his wallet, and put it in the check presenter. As if she had been waiting for the cue, our server slid by and snapped it up. She was back a minute later.

"Thanks, guys."

Mush wrote a tip, signed it with a flourish, and said, "It was fun, Skit. Let me take you back to your car."

"But what about—,"

"I'm hanging out with Jack and a couple of the guys tonight. We're gonna play some video games. You wanna come back to my house?"I understood that we were done talking about Spot.

"Am I gonna end up puking in your bathroom?"I asked as we drove back to the school.

"Only if you're allergic to Chinese food. My mom said I could order something."

"Your parents aren't back yet?"

"No, they'll be back next Monday."

"They just left you alone?"

Mush shot me a conspiratorial grin. "Not exactly. They left me with my uncle, my dad's brother. But he just gave me his cell phone number and said not to destroy anything and to call him in an emergency. He said he's not a babysitter. I'm not complaining."

I laughed. It was a little forced. I wasn't complaining either. We were at the school now, and Mush had pulled up next to my car.

"Alright, well, maybe I'll see you at your house later. I gotta run home first anyway."

"Skit."

Mush grabbed my shoulder as I leaned forward to get out of the car. He pulled me straight back so my stomach muscles had to work to keep from falling in his lap. "Leave that key at home. Keep it safe,"he buzzed in my ear. I tried to look at him, but couldn't bend my neck at the right angle. He pushed me back up. "Shoot me a text if you're gonna come," he said.

"O-Ok,"I faltered. I waved as he drove off.

I got in my car. The key felt like it was burning on my chest. Now I really did feel like the damn thing was some cursed magical relic, singling me out as the chosen damned.

At home, I stood in my room for a few minutes staring around. Mush's words had creeped me out. Keep it safe? Was someone going to come after it? Was someone after Mush? Was someone going to come after me? Why the secrecy? Did I even have a place safe enough?

I looked around. Well, if I were going to look for a small hidden item, where would I look? Sock drawer. Desk drawer. Closet. All out of the question. Piggy bank. No. Mattress? Naw, too great-depressionish. It wasn't a wad of cash. What would Spot do when he found out I had his key? Unless Spot was the one trying to hide it? Maybe Mush wasn't lying about Spot having given him the key. But why Mush? And if Mush hadn't seen Spot since we moved, why keep it for four years and then give it to me? What if Mush was lying about having seen Spot? It's not impossible. VanBuren is just up the road. My mom goes shopping there sometimes, and I bet Mush's mom does all the time. Mush could have run into Spot and—what? Spot just gave him his most prized possession?

Nothing made sense. But now the thing was creeping me out, so maybe hiding it was the best thing anyway. Out of sight. Out of mind. I pulled down an old copy of The Lord of the Rings, smirking a bit to myself, stuck it between the pages, and shoved it back into its place on the shelf. It was a big old hardcover, well loved and nearly falling apart. I'm kind of irreverent with the books I love, and it showed. But it made the spine real forgiving if you need to hide something thick within its pages. You couldn't even see a gap in the pages once I'd forced it back into its place. There. Frodo can take the damn thing, since he's so good at carrying doomed trinkets, I thought.

My phone buzzed.

From: |Mush (Mobile)| 5:46 PM kung pao ok?

To: |Mush (Mobile)| 5:46 PM ya xtra spicy.

From: |Mush (Mobile)| 5:47 PM lol ok

I grabbed my hoodie and headed to Mush's.