Free No More Us for You by David Hernandez Page A

Will. “What’s up?”
    â€œHey, I have the money if you still need it,” I told him.
    â€œI don’t, but thanks anyway.”
    â€œSorry I didn’t say yes when you asked me. I felt like an ass afterward.”
    â€œDon’t sweat it.”
    â€œDon’t sweat what?” I heard Snake ask in the background.
    â€œDon’t tell him,” Will said before passing the phone back.
    â€œDon’t tell me what?” Snake asked.
    â€œNothing,” I said.
    â€œBitch, you better tell me.”
    â€œIt’s none of your business.”
    â€œAre you gay or something? Is that why Mira left you?”
    â€œYes, that’s exactly it,” I said, but what I was thinkingwas this: Because she was bored out of her mind with me. Because I’m a slacker, an idler, a pair of shoes knotted together and hanging from a telephone wire. Stuck. Swaying in the breeze. Because I don’t know what the hell I want.
    â€œI’ll get your ass drunk tonight and get it out of you,” Snake said.
    â€œI’m not going.”
    â€œCome on,” he begged. “There’s going to be a lot of honeys there. You know Christopher.”
    â€œI’m just going to stay in tonight.”
    â€œAnd mope around like a little bitch?”
    â€œI’m not moping.”
    â€œYou’ve been King Mopeyhead for four straight days,” he said. “Screw her, man. I’m telling you, the best thing for you to do is get out there and bone another hoochie.”
    â€œSage advice,” I said, all sarcastic.
    â€œI’m serious .”
    â€œForget it. I’m not going.”
    Snake palmed the phone and said something to Will I couldn’t make out except the words “bitch” and“mope.” Will said something back and then Snake removed his hand. “Whatever, douchebag,” he said before hanging up.
    Â 
    The following Monday I heard all about Christopher’s party, how many people were there, how many girls, how much beer and vodka and tequila, the constant whirring of the blender in the kitchen, how loud the music was thumping from the living room, the bong hits by the swimming pool, the stoned German shepherd wobbling around the yard, and finally the cops that arrived to end it all and send the smashed kids home.
    â€œI was so hammered,” Snake said, swiveling his head slowly.
    â€œI had the worst hangover,” Will added. “Felt like someone was tapping the inside of my skull with a mallet.”
    It was just the three of us on the bleachers, the day overcast and a breeze playing with our hair, the folds of our shirts. The basketball courts were empty except for a few seagulls milling around like windup toys. A dented soda can seesawed on the blacktop wheneverthe wind bumped into it.
    â€œWho got the dog lit?” I asked.
    â€œI have no idea, but that shit was funny,” Snake said. “He almost fell into the pool.”
    â€œChristopher always has the best parties, man,” Will said.
    â€œToo bad the cops busted it up.”
    â€œStupid cops.” Will hawked a loogie onto the blacktop. “Did you see that one with his hand on his gun the whole time? I wanted to smack him. What was he going to do, shoot us?”
    â€œLike Dick Cheney,” I said.
    Snake turned toward us. “What do you mean?”
    â€œCheney went quail hunting and accidentally shot his friend in the face,” Will said.
    Snake chuckled. “Oh man, what a dick .”
    â€œDickhole Cheney.”
    â€œDid he die?” Snake asked.
    â€œHe’s in the hospital. He’s got buckshot inside his face and neck.”
    â€œThat must’ve hurt like hell,” I said.
    â€œLike my hangover,” Will added. “Man, my head was just pounding .”
    A seagull lifted into the air and the others followed, banking around the parking lot and over the administration building, and I wondered if the followers