Ian hid behind the hedge next to the church, watching the front of his own house, until he saw his mother's car turning from the driveway. The car moved up the street and reached the corner, slowed at the stop sign, and turned right. He followed its progress until he could see it no more, then stepped from behind the hedge and strolled home.
Inside, the house was quiet and messy. His sister was at school, his mother on her way to work, and Bryan hadn't been around now for almost three weeks. Bryan, thought Ian. Everyone's worried about Bryan, but it's as if life's getting back to normal now.
He picked up the telephone and dialed. "Roger? Are you going to school?" He paused. "Okay. Let's meet at the crossing at eleven o'clock. I want to get a bit more sleep."
Three and a half hours later, Ian left the house. Walking to the end of the street, where it looped around and joined itself to form a circle, he turned into a lane and moved halfway down its length. Here, he climbed the fence and crossed the ditch, then scrambled up the gravel embankment to the train tracks. He waited, gazing along the tracks towards the crossing.
After a while, he could see Roger walking across the street at the crossing. He waved. Roger saw him and did not wave back, but changed direction, walking along the train tracks instead of towards the lane. Ian watched his friend approach. Roger wore black sweat pants, basketball shoes and a puffy blue parka, warmer than he needed for this unseasonably mild weather. He sauntered slowly, stepping on every railroad tie, avoiding the oily stones in between. Soon he got to where Ian waited, balanced on a rail.
Ian shook his head. Everyone wanted to know about Bryan. "Do you want to go downtown?" he asked.
"I suppose so, but I only have two bucks."
"It's better than hanging around here."
They walked, heading east. On their left were the back yards of the houses on Ian's street, backed with fences made from wood painted red, or chain link tangled with long yellow grass from last year. On their right were a couple of dozen apartment buildings, made of red and brown bricks, not arranged neatly in ranks but seemingly plunked down carelessly, facing every which way. Ahead, two hundred yards away, the houses and apartment buildings gave way to scrub forest.
Ian decided to start a conversation, about something besides Bryan. "Remember Daphne Wilde?"
"I remember her sister Barb. I thought they moved away. What's going on with them?"
"They lived in that block until six months ago." Ian waved a hand at one of the old buildings to the right. "Then they bought a house and moved away. But their Dad fell asleep with a lit cigarette and burned his bed. The house didn't burn down, but he was killed. Their mother had to sell the house, and now they've moved back here."
"I used to be scared of Barb."
"Yeah, me too. She used to beat me up at recess. But now that she's back in my school, she doesn't even notice me. Maybe it's because we're in high school now. She dukes classes all the time; she's hardly ever there."
"And Daphne got arrested last week."
"Okay, so you heard about it, then. She's in deep shit."
"I just know she got arrested in a stolen car."
"Well, my big sister said it was Daphne's boyfriend who stole the car, and she was just going for a ride in it with him. She was carrying all his dope, because he's been busted before for dealing, so he knew the cops would search him if they got a chance. But if he wants to be so careful, why steal a car?"
"Because he's an idiot." Roger laughed.
"Yeah. Then when the cops went to pull him over, he hit the gas and tried to escape. They chased him, and he smashed into the overpass at highway 12. The cops beat him up, and Daphne tried to run away. When they searched her at the station, they found all his dope."
"So she gets caught with his dope, and he gets busted anyway."
"Yeah, and he's going to jail, because he's eighteen, and he's on probation."
"What's going to happen to her?"
"It's not her first time, that's for sure. She'll probably be put away for a few months."
"So, their family has nothing but problems." Roger stopped walking and unzipped his parka. "Let's smoke a joint."
"Okay." They climbed halfway down the embankment and sat on some clumps of concrete that jutted out from the gravel. "Yeah, they finally get out of this shithole of a neighbourhood, and then they have to move right back. And now their father's dead, and they have nothing at all."
Ian pulled a fat joint from the side of his cigarette package that no longer contained any cigarettes. Lighting it, he puffed carefully, twirling it around to try to make it burn evenly.
Roger pulled a quart bottle of beer from his parka and began to pry it open with his house key.
"It's my Dad's. I took it from the fridge."
"Well, if you only took one, I suppose he won't notice."
"There were three. I took them all."
"You're crazy. He's gonna kill you."
"He'll think my Mom drank them. And he'll be asleep by the time she gets home from work. It's great when they're on different shifts."
"I'll get in shit. Big deal. He probably won't ask her. They never talk anymore."
"Like I say, I don't give a shit." Roger tried to change the subject. "Where'd you get the dope?"
"You should give a shit. They think we're angels. That's why we can do what we want, because we never get in trouble. If your Dad catches you today, he'll be counting his beers all the time."
Roger did not answer. The joint was finished, so he climbed the embankment and waited on the tracks for Ian to join him. They continued to walk towards the east, crossing a short bridge that spanned a dirty, sluggish creek. Then they passed through a place where raspberry bushes grew in a tangle of looping, flexible branches, like barbed wire, close to the train tracks. The bushes had no leaves. Within the tangle of branches sparrows hopped and flew, in short, nervous bursts, alarmed by the presence of the boys. The raspberry bushes were an excellent hiding place in the summer but now, with no leaves and a backdrop of wet snow, the little birds were easily seen. There were no birds other than the sparrows; it was not really spring yet, just a warm spell.
Roger's silence made Ian feel uncomfortable. "I got the dope from my sister," he said.
"She said she wouldn't sell to you."
"I didn't give her the choice. I went into her room and took a ten-dollar bag. I left a ten-dollar bill in its place."
"You should have just left a five-dollar bill. She didn't pay ten bucks for it."
"She's going to be pissed off enough that I took it. I'll work on a family discount some other time."
They heard voices. In the woods on the south side of the tracks, about fifty yards away, they saw three boys about their own age. One of the boys noticed them and pointed. His companions turned to look.
"Let's go," said Ian. He began to edge away, down the gravel embankment on the north side. He recognized the other boys, and knew what he could expect from them. He didn't want to be picked on, or to fight. And he didn't want to answer any questions about Bryan. But Roger stood his ground. Ian paused, watching, but ready to run if it became necessary.
The other boys discussed something, looking at Roger, then turned away and disappeared into the woods. Ian climbed back up to the tracks. Roger had been getting into a lot of fights lately, and was acquiring a reputation. As they continued along the tracks, Ian thought about his own usual habit of avoiding trouble, and how it compared with Roger's newfound belligerence.
"So what did Bryan do to Udo?" asked Roger.
Ian did not answer at first. He did not want to talk about Bryan. Roger waited patiently for a while, then said "Come on. I'm your best friend. Tell me what happened."
Ian thought about whether he still considered Roger to be his best friend, then dismissed the thought. He bent down and gathered up a double handful of stones from between the railroad ties. Cradling the rocks against his chest with his left arm, he began to throw them, one by one, at a telephone pole that stood nearby. Roger watched, and pulled another bottle of beer from his parka. He reached into the front pocket of his pants, searching for his key.
"Udo got in an argument with his math teacher," said Ian. He continued to throw the stones, but now he aimed at the wires, instead of the pole. When a stone hit a wire, it made an angry humming sound. Roger offered the beer bottle. Ian dropped the rest of the rocks, took the bottle and drank. The boys sat on the rails, facing each other. Roger produced cigarettes, and they lit up.
"The math teacher is a big guy, and he likes to act tough. He was ragging on Udo. He kept saying `Udo, get off the pot. Get off the booze.' Bryan said Udo was just sitting there, not saying anything. Bryan thought it was funny. He couldn't see how mad Udo was, because he sits right behind him in that class. So he poked Udo in the back and said `Don't let him talk to you like that, Udo. Knock him on his ass.' And then Udo did it. He stood up and cracked the teacher in the face."
"He beat up a teacher?" Roger's admiration was clear.
"Well, I think he only hit the guy twice. But that's all it takes with Udo. The teacher was hurt. Udo got expelled from school."
"Bryan told the truth, that he was just kidding when he told Udo to hit the guy. He just thought it was a big joke. So he didn't get in any trouble, he just got a warning. But then Udo said he was gonna get Bryan. And he really meant it, I guess. Bryan was scared."
"Aren't they supposed to be best friends?" asked Roger.
"Well, they're friends. Pretty good friends. But what's the use of having a friend like Udo? Udo's a maniac. He's dangerous."
The boys fell silent for a while. Ian lit another cigarette. Roger kicked at the greasy stones with the toe of his shoe, not certain of what to say. Eventually, Ian stood and began to walk again. Roger followed, but did not catch up. They walked this way, a little apart, for another half hour until they could see, off to their left, the little bus terminus with its dirty glass shelter. A bus was there, idling. Ian slowed and stopped, and stared blankly at the pale blue sky above the bare trees.
Roger waited. At last he said, "There's the bus. Are we going downtown or not?"
Ian shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You know, I don't really feel like going downtown. You feel like just walking further up the tracks?"
"Sure," said Roger, eager to please now. "Ian,...thanks for telling me about it. You know...about Bryan."
"No problem. You're my best friend, right?"
"Of course. Listen, why don't I go steal us some candy?"
Ian looked Roger in the eye for the first time since they had discussed Bryan's problem with Udo. Roger's eyes were round, and he looked less sure of himself. He wasn't acting tough, for a change. Ian thought that this was the way Roger used to be, for all the years the boys had been friends.
Roger said "Wait here," and Ian watched as he ran through the trees, ducked through a hole in the fence, then ran again, past the bus and across the street. When he reached the parking lot of a small convenience store, he slowed to a walk and went inside. Ian could hear the jingle of the door chimes.
Stooping to pick up a handful of rocks, Ian thought about Roger. He had been changing, quickly, since they had started high school. Roger was turning into one of the neighbourhood bullies; one of the losers they had always laughed at.
And then there was Bryan. Ian's older brother had not been seen since the day after Udo beat up the teacher. Everybody believed he had run away to avoid Udo, but as each day passed with no news of him, people were less sure. Ian did not know what to think anymore.