Kevin Richardson snickered. He lumbered up to the table, grinning his lopsided grin at us. "What's happening guys?"
"You're not happening!" Howie snapped instantly. "You're definitely not happening."
Brian and I laughed, but Kevin didn't think it was funny.
Kevin is also a senior at Miami High. He's big and dark and kind of tough-looking. With his sharp green eyes set close together and always narrowed, he always reminds me of a vulture about to pounce on his prey.
He always wears black, like a vulture. And his lips are always pulled into a sneer, like he's trying to show the world how tough he is.
I know I make him sound kind of creepy. But actually, Kevin used to be one of our friends. We all liked him a lot. But then he started hanging out with some 'hard dudes' from Tampa. Really bad-news characters.
Kevin changed. He started drinking a lot of beer. At least, that's what I heard from some other guys who know him. And he started getting in trouble. I mean, serious police-type trouble.
Too bad. Whenever I see Kevin, I always remember the way he used to be, and I wish he could forget his new friends and go back to the way he was.
But I don't think that will ever happen--do you?
Kevin stepped up to the kitchen table. "I can tell that you guys were talking about me," he teased. He narrowed his eyes at Brian. "You're hot for me, aren't you?"
"You've got that wrong. Stop pretending you're gay! It's so immature," Brian replied coldly. His blue eyes can go cold as marble when he wants them to.
"You know you want to dump Tyra and come riding with me," Kevin insisted, fake practically drooling on him.
"What kind of a tricycle are you riding these days?" Howie cracked.
I told you. Howie is real quick.
Kevin's ears turned red. That's how you can tell when he's angry.
I didn't see he had a can of beer in his hand until he tilted it to his mouth. He took a long swallow, lowered the can, and burped.
"You sure know how to impress a guy," Brian cracked.
Howie tapped his fingers nervously on the tabletop. I could see he was watching Kevin carefully.
I think he's a little afraid of Kevin now. I know I am.
He slid the beer can into the crook of his arm, and crushed the can easily.
"I've been working out," he told us.
"Bet you can crack walnuts between your teeth," Howie muttered.
Kevin ignored him. He tossed the can across the room. It clattered into the sink, leaving a trail of beer droplets across the white linoleum.
"Hey, watch it!" I cried. "What do you want Kevin? Why are you here?"
He turned his green eyes on me. "You're my favorite AJ. You're the best." He waved at Howie and Brian. "They're trash. But you're the best."
I rolled my eyes. "What do you want Kevin?" I repeated impatiently.
"20 dollars," he said, sticking out his big paw. It had black grease stains on it. His fingernails were cracked with black dirt. He'd probably been dinkin with his car. "That's all. Just 20 bucks."
"I don't have it," I replied curtly. I crossed my arms over my chest. "Really."
"You're the best AJ," Kevin insisted. He didn't lower his hand. He kept it in my face. "You're great. You're awesome. 20 bucks. I wouldn't ask you unless I really needed it."
I uttered a cry of disgust. "Kev, I'm totally broke," I told him. "And you already owe me 20 bucks."
"Go away," Howie chimed in. "Why don't you get a job?"
"Who would hire him?" Brian asked sarcastically.
I was a little suprised that Brian was joining in. He moved to Miami at Christmastime. He's only been our friend for a month. So he didn't really know Kevin well enough to be making cracks about him. I guess he just wanted to help me out.
Kevin pulled a cigarette from the pocket of his black flannel shirt. He lit it and tossed the match onto the floor.
"Hey--no way!" I shouted. I shoved him toward the door. "You know my parents don't allow smoking in this house!"
He danced away from me grinning. He took a long drag and blew the smoke in my face.
"Give him a break Kev," Howie insisted, climbing to his feet and pushing his chair out of the way. He and I both closed in on him.
"Hey, woah!" He raised both hands as if trying to shield himself.
"Get out!" I cried. "If my mom comes home and smells cigarette smoke--"
He flicked the ash onto the kitchen table. He sneered as he lowered his eyes at me. "AJ, you're parents don't allow you to smoke. But I know a little secret, don't I? You smoke anyway."
"Shut up!" I insisted.
His sneer spread to a grin. "I saw you smoking at the mall last weekend. Puff puff puff." He blew more smoke in my face. "AJ is bad. AJ is baaaad! Maybe I should tell your Mom..."
"No way!" I shrieked.
Mom caught Howie and me smoking up in my room when we were in 9th grade, and she went ballistic. She's such a fanatic about smoking. She promised me a reward--a thousand dollars--if I never smoked again in high school.
I hate to think what my Mom would do if she found out that sometimes I smoke a few cigarettes when I'm out with my friends. I know Mom would have a cow. Real ugly.
And I knew Kevin wasn't kidding. He's tell my Mom about me smoking. Unless I stayed on his good side.
Which was why I loaned him the first 20 dollars.
"Kev, I'm broke. I really am," I insisted.
"Yeah, right." He flicked another clump of ash onto the table in front of Brian.
"What do you need 20 dollars for anyway?" Howie demanded.
"So I can take Brian out," he replied, grinning again.
"Ha-ha. Remind me to laugh," Brian muttered. He stuck his tongue out at Kevin.
"I love it when you do that!" he told him.
He groaned and shook his head. "Grow up."
Kevin turned back to me. I didn't like the cold expression on his face. I never used to see that hardness in him.
"How about if I burn a little hole in the table, AJ? Do you think I could find the 20 bucks then?"
"Kev, please--" I started.
But he turned the cigarette between his fingers and started to lower it to the table top.
"Kevin--DON'T!" I yelled. I dove for him. But he swung around and blocked me from the table with hid broad back.
He held the cigarette flame close to the yellow Formica. "Come on AJ. You can find 20 bucks. You don't want your Mom to find a big burn, do you?"
"Stop it!"
Howie and I both turned him away from the table. The cigarette dropped to the floor. Kevin started to laugh, an annoying, high-pitched giggle.
We pulled him toward the kitchen door. "Good-bye Kev," I said.
But he yanked himself free and turned to Howie. "Your daddy is a big-deal doctor. I'll bet you have 20 dollars."
Howie let go of him and sighed wearily. "Why would I give you a nickel?"
Kevin brought his face close to Howie's ear.
"Because of chemistry," Kevin whispered, loud enough for me and Brian to hear.
Howie gasped. "You wouldn't want Mr. Marcuso to know you cheated on the chemistry final," Kevin told Howie.
"You can't blackmail me!" Howie insisted through clenched teeth.
Kevin laughed. "Of course I can! If I can't blackmail you, who can?"
"I didn't ask you for it Kev. You gave it to me!"
"And you used it, didn't you?" Kevin asked, almost gleefully. "If some little birdie should tell Mr. Marcuso you cheated, Howie, he'd flunk you. And then you wouldn't get into that fancy college that accepted you. Boo-hoo."
"Kev, you used to be a nice guy," I said, shaking my head. "How did you get so obnoxious?"
He pulled my hair. "I studied you!" he shot back, laughing at his own cleverness.
"You really can't go around threatening people," Brian chimed in. He hadn't budged from the table. I thought maybe he was using the table as a shield against Kevin.
"Yeah, get out of here!" I insisted, shoving him again. "Really. Take a walk."
But Howie was already digging in his bag. He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and pushed it into Kevin's outstretched hand.
"When are you going to pay it back?" he demanded. He didn't look at him. He kept his eyes down on his bag.
"Good question," Kevin replied, smirking. "Beats me." He jammed the money into the pocket of his black denim jeans. Then he turned to the door. "Have a nice day guys!"
He took three steps--then stopped as my Mom pulled open the glass storm door.
"Oh--hi, Mrs. McLean." He couldn't hide his suprise. I saw his ears turn red again.
My mom stepped into the kitchen, carrying a brown grocery bag under each arm. "Hi everyone, I'm home early."
Kevin took one of the bags and carried it to the counter for her. Mom set the other bag down. She has dark brown hair, like I do. And the same big brown eyes, one of our best features.
"We don't see you around here much anymore," Mom said to Kevin.
"I've been kind of busy," Kevin replied. His ears were still bright red. He said good-bye and hurried out the door.
Mom turned to us. "Why is he dressed in all black? she demanded. "Did somebody die?" She didn't give any of us a chance to answer. She let out a cry of suprise--and pointed furiously at the floor. I saw instantly what she was pointing at. Kevin's cigarette.
"Mom-" I started.
She bent down and picked it up, her face tightening in anger. "It's still lit."
"It was Kevin's!" I cried. "We weren't smoking! It was Kevin's!"
"That's the truth Mrs. McLean," Howie said. He and Brian both stood awkwardly at the table. I knew they wanted to fade away, to disappear. They'd both seen my mother when she went into one of her flying rages.
"I don't care who was smoking Alex," Mom said, clenching hr jaw and speaking each word slowly and distinctly. "You're in charge while I'm away and--"
She carried the cigarette to the sink. And let out a loud gasp.
"A beer can too?" She demanded shrilly.
"That's Kevin's!" Brian and I cried in unison. I glimpsed Howie shrink back against the wall, trying to blend in with the flowery wallpaper.
"You just threw it in the sink?" Mom demanded shrilly.
I started to reply, but what was the point? I mean, I knew I was in major trouble. It didn't matter that Kevin left the can and the cigarette butt. Ever since she caught Howie and me smoking 3 years ago, I don't think Mom has trusted me completely.
I'm sure she suspects that all kinds of things go on here while she's at work. And now, she came home and what did she find?
"Alex, I'm grounding you for the weekend," Mom said in a low voice. I could see her jaw muscles twitch. She talked softly because she was trying to control her anger.
"No! You can't do that!" I yelled. I didn't mean to sound so desperate, but how could I help it?
"The party!" I cried. "Ryan's party! Mom-if you ground me I'll miss the party!"
Mom raised a finger to her lips. "Not another word."
"You can't do this!" I screeched. "I'm 17 years old and I won't---"
"I won't have your friends drinking beer and smoking while I'm not here," Mom shouted, losing control. "I don't care if the party's at Buckingham Palace! You're grounded. You're missing it. One more word and I'll ground you for two weeks!"
I shook my fists in the air and let out a cry of rage. I could see Howie and Brian behind the table, both avoiding my eyes, both feeling embarrassed--and terribly sorry for me.
This is all Kevin's fault, I told myself. He has become such a total creep. This is all his fault.
What a horrible afternoon.
I think all three of us--Howie, Brian and me, felt the same way. I think all three of us wanted to kill Kevin that afternoon.
Of course we had no way of knowing Kevin would be dead in two weeks.
