Free The Big Crunch by Pete Hautman Page A

Jerry, one from Phoebe, and one from Britt. She turned her cell off and got into bed and closed her eyes and tried to make it all go away. All of it.
    All but that kiss.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
    J ERRY WAS OKAY. He had a “possible mild concussion” and a cut on the back of his head. They stitched him up and sent him home after just three hours at the hospital.
    “Thanks for calling, I guess,” Jerry said.
    “I’m really sorry,” Wes said.
    “You should be,” said Jerry. “I still have a headache.”
    “Well,
I
got suspended. My parents are really pissed. I’m stuck in the house for the rest of the week.”
    “Too bad.” Jerry wasn’t going to let him off easy.
    “I don’t know what happened,” Wes said. “We were just goofing around, and —”
    “And you smacked me.”
    “It was supposed to be like a dope slap. I don’t even remember why I did it. I didn’t mean for it to be so hard.”
    “Well, it was.”
    “Then when you tried to hit me back, I guess I got mad.”
    Jerry didn’t say anything.
    “Jer? You there?”
    “Ever since you broke up with Izzy, you’ve been acting like a jerk,” Jerry said. “Maybe you should make up with her.”
    “She’s going out with Thom Samples. Besides, I don’t want to. Izzy was cramping my style.”
    Jerry laughed. “Your
style
? Since when do you have a style to be cramped?”
    Wes was nettled. If he could have reached his arm through the phone, he would have delivered another dope slap.
    “You know what I mean,” he said.
    “Actually, I don’t. Even June has noticed it.”
    “June didn’t even
know
me when I was with Izzy.”
    “Yeah, but she noticed how weird you’ve been acting.”
    “What did she say?”
    “I don’t know. We were talking about you, and —”
    “When?”
    “I don’t know. A few days ago. Anyway, she said you walk around like you don’t care what anybody thinks. Like you think you’re better than everybody else.”
    “She said that?”
    “Something like that.”
    Wes could feel his entire body tensing up. Was that really what June thought?
    “Have you talked to her today?” he asked.
    “She’s still home sick. I tried her a few times, but she must still be sleeping.”
    “What are you going to tell her? I mean, about what happened today.”
    “Just the truth — that you slammed me against the wall so hard I woke up in the hospital. Why? What does it matter to you? I mean, since you don’t care what anybody thinks.”
    “I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
    “Then you shouldn’t be pushing people around.”
    “What? I didn’t … look, it wasn’t my fault. You were trying to hit me.”
    “Yeah, right. You know, Wes, you should get therapy or something.”
    June got out of bed and went to the kitchen and stared at the telephone until it stopped ringing. She knew it was Wes, from the caller ID. She waited a minute, then picked up the phone and checked the voice mail. No messages.
    It wasn’t my fault.
    She could have picked up the phone and found out what he meant. Or she could call him back, right now, and in a few minutes she would know.
    She practiced saying, “Hi, Wes? It’s me.” Would he know who “me” was? “My mom said you called?” Her voice sounded wrong. She sounded like she was holding her nose. He would laugh — she could hear it already. Well, what did he expect? She had a cold. People with colds talk funny.
    The phone rang again. It was Jerry. She let it ring. What had people done before caller ID? It must have been awful to pick up a phone never knowing who was on the other end. The ringing stopped. Next he would call her cell phone. Again. Jerry was like that. Persistent.
    It was nearly midnight when her parents got home. June could hear snatches of their conversation as they got ready for bed. It sounded as if their dinner with the Sani-Made executives had not gone well.
    “They’re all scared to death you’re going to get them fired,” her mom said.
    “Sani-Made