Free Geeks by Jon Katz Page B

$100 for utilities, $130 for transportation. If they ate only once or twice a day at $3.33 per meal, that totaled $1,640 a month, Jesse estimated.
    Under “What We Have,” he’d listed the $149.72 deposit that would be returned by Ryder, plus cash reserves: Jesse, $1,072, and Eric, $481. In addition, the two were counting on another $481 in paychecks. They’d borrowed a little from relatives to pay the apartment deposit and to buy some clothes that seemed appropriate for a city (though, except for Eric’s brief stay with a brother in Seattle the previous summer, Boise was the only city they’d ever been to).
    Their safety net, money left over for emergencies and unforeseen expenses, came to $10.72.
    THE PARTY was at Joe Allen’s house, a split-level miles from their apartment but still in Caldwell. A friend had given Jesse and Eric a lift. The directions I had simply said to head down the Interstate, take a particular exit, find a certain road, and turn left. But I was driving for half an hour before I came upon any turn that could conceivably be called a road. I saw no houses or street lights, either, just a potato-processing plant that was bigger than many towns—the giant Simplot complex—and seemed to extend for miles.
    Down a long, dark stretch of asphalt, I eventually came upon Joe’s place, across the street from a barn and a pasture. The driveway was filling with Jeeps, a couple of pickups, and some small sedans.
    Inside, Jesse was playing chess in one room with Sam’s younger brother; I found Eric off by himself, drinking a beer in the playroom. Two sets of jocks were arm wrestling at the kitchen table. A GOOD LUCK, JESSE AND ERIC sign had been taped to the refrigerator door.
    The party felt muted, unfocused, scattered all over the house. Everybody was drinking. People came up sporadically to wish Jesse luck or say good-bye, but plainly found the trek a little bizarre, a typically Jesse thing to do. Considering the dimensions of the project, the departure caused rather little discussion unless I raised the topic. People almost seemed to be avoiding the subject.
    Sam, who turned out to be decidedly non-geeky—he was blond, clean-cut and cheerful—thought that Jesse and Eric would do fine. But he wasn’t drawn to move so far away from family and friends himself, he conceded. There might be prettier or more sophisticated places to live than Caldwell and Middleton, but few that felt more comfortable or were better places to raise a family.
    “I think they’re nuts, I guess,” offered a clearly buzzed friend. “Idaho is safe, friendly. They might not be the most popular kids in the town, but they do have friends here. They’ve never been to a place like Chicago. Maybe they’ll get eaten alive. It’s scary. I hear it’s crowded and ugly and dangerous.”
    Jesse laughed later when he heard that. “It isn’t as scary as staying here,” he said.
    THE NEXT morning, a Sunday, was the last day in their apartment. Eric had biked off to Office Max to earn a few extra dollars. Jesse, sitting shirtless in front of his computer, had clearly just gotten up.
    The Cave, which had never been especially homey, now looked like a typhoon had hit. Some of the computer peripherals were already in boxes, but clothes and household stuff and books were scattered through every room.
    Jesse looked deflated, resigned, as if the wind had suddenly been knocked out of him after days of intense focus on the trip.
    Last night’s party had clearly been a bust. “It was a bit sad,” he conceded, strong language from him. “Half the people, I didn’t know.” For Jesse—careful to avoid language that suggested emotion, never angry but “irritated,” never hurt but “disappointed”—this came close to an expression of grief.
    He had kissed one girl, somebody he’d been interested in for a long time; kissed her twice, in fact. But she’d told him she didn’t want that kind of relationship. “My last stab at acceptance