The Last 3 Days (06): The Value of Paperclips

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61:02:16

A city bus pulled up ahead of Nick as he approached Richmond Park High, his attention on his phone.

He walked past Ryan’s car parked at the curb and turned towards the school’s entrance. He didn’t notice Jay, rolled-up uniform under his arm, exit the bus.

“Nick,” Jay called after him. “Wait up.”

Turning to Jay, Nick noticed Ryan and his friends climb out of the Cadillac, but otherwise paid them no mind. He raised the six-pack to show it off.

“Hey, buddy. Thanks again for doing this.”

They continued towards the entrance, when a hand landed on Jay’s shoulder and pulled him around.

“Jay the rat,” Ryan sneered. “Payment time.”

Bobby stepped in front of Nick as Ryan, Steve and Dave surround Jay.

Ryan jabbed his finger in Jay’s chest. “Did you think I wouldn’t know it was you?”

Jay held his ground. “What are you talking about?”

Ryan shoved Jay hard, sending him into Steve, who pushed Jay back within reach of Ryan.

“Hey,” Nick shouted. “Leave him alone.”

Ryan glanced at Nick, but it is Bobby who responded.

Bobby used his bulk to push Nick away. “Beat it.”

Over Bobby’s shoulder, Nick repeated, “Let him be.”

Bobby lunged at Nick, but Nick was quicker. He sprinted to the school entrance.

Ryan shoved Jay a second time. “You ratted me out to Thurro. You cost me my job. So now you pay.”

Steve and Dave each grabbed an arm; the uniform slipped to the sidewalk.

“It wasn’t me.”

Ryan delivered a solid punch to Jay’s stomach that would have felled him had he not been supported by Ryan’s friends. Jay’s chin dropped, but Ryan jerked it upwards so he could watch Jay’s eyes.

“Jay, Jay. None of those women would have talked. They are happy to pay me to keep their jobs. No, it could only be you.”

The sound of a door opening behind them went unnoticed. A teacher followed Nick out of the school.

“Jay,” the teacher said, “You’re late. Get in here.”

The Messketeers stepped away.

Suddenly free, Jay picked up his uniform and jogged into the building.

Bobby, Dave and Steve drifted back towards the car. Ryan and Nick made eye contact; Nick looked away first.

60:57:14

There was no sign of Jay as Nick handed his ticket to the teacher, seated once again at the table set across the gym doors decorated in tissue garlands in the school colours and rattling to the baseline of a dance tune.

The teacher pulled the six-pack to his side of the table. “There’s punch inside.”

“Just trying to avoid the family curse. Diabetes.”

The teacher leaned down to gauge the fill levels. “Students have been known to sneak booze inside pop bottles.”

Deadpan, Nick said, “Never occurred to me.”

Without looking, the teacher selected a bottle, then paused to look at Nick. “So if I twist a cap?”

They both heard the distinctive ’crack’ from the seal when a fresh bottle is opened. The teacher re-tightened the cap and pushed the six-pack over to Nick. “Enjoy.”

Nick halted just inside the gym entrance, acclimating to the pulsing lights and the music volume.

He ignored the crowded dance floor as he searched for Becky.

Barry appeared next to him. “Finally. Is that it? How’d you get it through?”

“Paperclip. Let’s do this.”

Barry led Nick around the perimeter of the dance floor and past the tables spaced around the room, pointing out those waiting for their vodka.

Those at the first table cheered as Nick walked up, making him cringe and look around to see if anyone noticed. Sitting quickly, he peeled a bottle from the rest and passed it over.

He waited, smiling through the brief confusion caused by the snapping seal.

Then he saw Becky standing by some folded bleachers, dancing in place as she sipped a paper cup of punch. She was looking at him.

He peeled a second bottle from the harness and handed the rest to Barry.

“Can you hand the rest of these out?”

Barry scuttled off, leaving Nick to muster his courage. He walked over to Becky.

“Hi, Becky. I didn’t expect to see you alone tonight.”

Becky’s lips twisted. “Don’t ruin the night by mentioning Ryan,” she said. “He refused to come in to the dance, but he’ll pick me up when it’s over.”

“Well, then. Can I spike your punch?”

“With diet ginger ale?”

Nick raised the bottle. “Vodka.”

She held her cup out and he poured a generous measure.

“Am I drinking alone?” She asked.

“Be right back.”

She watched as Nick nearly ran for his punch, saw him spill a good portion of it as he negotiated the crowd, and laughed when he stopped and considered returning to refill it, then dismissing the thought.

He added vodka to his drink and rested the bottle on the bleacher.

60:42:57

Ryan braked late at a red light, terrifying a pair of elderly ladies crossing the street. A lone car approached from the opposite direction.

When his laugh at the women’s terror subsided, he hit the steering wheel with his palm. “Well this is boring. We need to think of something epic.”

Nervous laughter emanated from the back seat.

Bobby pointed out the windshield. “Careful, Ryan. That’s a cop.”

Ryan wasn’t listening. As soon as the light changed, the Cadillac leapt into motion. “We need somewhere I can try out the sports package without getting hassled. And I know just the place.”

Steve’s head popped over the seat back. “Can we stop for beer first?”

59:57:31

The dance seemed louder, more raucous, forcing Nick and Becky to stand closer together. The bottle on the bleacher was more than half empty.

He leaned closer still. “Break up with him, then.”

She turned her face to answer him and found he was close enough that if either stretched even a little, they would kiss. She wondered what it would be like. “If I leave Ryan, my mother will suffer for it.”

The song changed.

“I love this tune,” Becky said. She reached for Nick’s hand and tugged him towards the dance floor. Nick took a last gulp of his drink and allowed himself to be lead into the throng of dancers.

59:56:14

“Woooooo-hoooooo!” Ryan wrenched the steering wheel hard to the left, sending the car into a dizzying spin. The others held on to whatever was handy to counter the G-forces and not spill their beers.

Night was imminent, yet the stands of State University’s stadium were still visible in shades of shadow, dark at ground level but less so as the rows of chairs climbed towards the press boxes and alumni VIP suites.

Ryan’s car slid to a stop at the 20-yard line, the end of a long spiral furrow cut into the manicured field. Others criss-crossed the grass.

Ryan looked across the ruined field, gauging his handiwork, and nodded. “I didn’t deserve to lose my scholarship.” He drained his beer and tossed the bottle out the window. “Enough play. Let’s get Becky home then deal with Jay.”

Shoving the gear shift into first, he planted the accelerator and dropped the clutch. The car lurched forward, tires throwing up clumps of turf.

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