"Europe," he said, sitting in the wheelchair now, his hands dangling limp over the armrests. He wasn't even propelling himself in the wheelchair. Spinner was behind him pushing it.
"Let it go, buddy," Spinner said as he wheeled him through the crowd. First Craig sang, and then Ash. Ash's voice ringing out clear above them, above everything. For some reason when he heard Craig sing he wanted to punch him, just like he had wanted to punch him that day he took the Polaroid picture of Ashley by her locker in ninth grade. Just like that.
"Europe," he said again, morosely.
"Jimmy," Spinner said, "what is this? So she's going to Europe with Craig? So what? You broke up with her. Remember? When you break up with someone it generally means they don't stick around and still date you,"
He almost laughed. Spinner was speaking the truth. He had dumped Ashley, he couldn't stand her for awhile there. So why did he feel like his heart was bleeding all over the kitchen table because she was going to Europe with Craig? He shook his head. Spinner pushed him through the crowd and he had his familiar waist-level view of everyone. Europe. It was making him burn.
Ashley was going to Europe, no big deal. With Craig, fine. She was singing onstage with him right now. It was fine, fine. People on the dance floor parted for them as Spinner pushed him along. Jimmy was familiar with this now. No one wanted to get in the way of a cripple, no one wanted to come face to face with their pity and fear. But for the grace of God. For once, just once, he wished he could be on that side of the thought.
They went out of the auditorium and down a narrow green hallway, the cement walls painted an oddly soothing green.
"Uh, by the way, where are we going?" he said to Spin as he pushed the chair just slightly faster.
"Backstage, buddy,"
"Why?" Jimmy was aware of the distressed panic that had crept into his voice, and his hands still dangled over the edge of the armrests. He thought about grabbing the breaks and yanking the chair to a stop, but he didn't move.
"To see our good friend Craig. After all, soon he'll be going to Europe,"
"You're not serious?"
Spinner stopped the chair himself, and they were alone in the narrow green hallway.
"He said he wanted to see us backstage when his set's done. You don't want to go just because you're being all weird about Ash? Jimmy, it isn't Craig's fault. He's been gone for like a year. So we're gonna go and see him and be nice, got it?"
Jimmy was silent, the word "Europe" popping into his head again.
"Got it?" Spinner said, crouching down so he was on eye-level.
"Yeah, yeah. I got it. Let's get this over with,"
"That's the spirit," Spinner said happily, and continued pushing him along.
Backstage was a room with ratty couches and a table that had some cheese and crackers and small bottles of coke and sprite. This band, Funkasaurus Rex, wasn't a band Jimmy had ever heard of. He saw the various members lounging around, legs up on the couches, nibbling crackers and cheese. He saw one guy with garish blond dreadlocks and a sharp nose like a bird beak. He saw another guy with perfectly straight dark blond hair in a shaggy bowl cut. He didn't see Craig.
Spinner babbled to them about how he enjoyed the set and how he had played drums in Downtown Sasquatch and Jimmy rolled his eyes.
"Jimmy! Spinner! Hey!" Craig. Jimmy looked up and there he was wearing that dark maroon shirt over the long sleeved white shirt, his new style. Whatever.
"Hey, man!" Spinner said, and from the corner of his eye he saw them hug. He tapped the armrest of his wheelchair with his fingernails.
"Jimmy!" Jimmy looked up and Craig was beaming at him, genuinely pleased to see him and he leaned down and hugged him. Jimmy allowed himself to be hugged and patted Craig's back, but all he could think of was Europe and Ashley and this twisted, sick, shrunken feeling that had entered into his cells when he heard Craig's name being announced over the microphone.