Page 47 of Dead Boys Club

Zach climbs out of the car. His limbs are heavy, his stomach bubbling, his muscles tight. He goes right into the house and sits on the cool bathroom floor, pressing his head between his knees and just trying to breathe through whatever this is.

Chapter Seventeen

On Saturday morning, at eight o’clock on the dot, Zach hears the sound of a car pulling into his driveway. His mom is off today and still asleep. He frowns, looking out the front window through the porch screen, only to spot the familiar shape of Parker’s car half on the grass. The phone rings in the kitchen, and Zach can see Parker holding up his cell phone to his ear through the windshield of his car.

“What are you doing?” Zach asks, carrying the phone with him from the kitchen to the living room. He peeks outside again.

“Get dressed,” Parker says, his voice tinny over the speaker. “We’re going somewhere.”

For a brief, fearful moment, Zach wonders if the time has come—has Parker figured out how he wants to die? But then, Parker says: “I already asked your mom if it’s okay.”

“You talked to my mom?” Zach gapes. He can see Parker snapping his fingers through the windshield and hears the clicks on the other end of the phone.

“Come on, let’s go!”

When Zach is dressed, he shoves on his shoes and jacket and stumbles out of the house. He contemplates leaving a note for his mom just in case but decides against it. Parker had supposedly already asked her permission for whatever today’s outing is going to be. He locks the deadbolt behind him and picks his way across the wet pavement, which is still glistening from the sprinkle of rain the night before. The sun is barely up. The neighborhood is quiet still, with only the sounds of the birds whistling in the nearby trees.

Zach slips into the car. It’s practically humid because Parker has the heat running so high. When Zach settles into his seat, the backs of his thighs are met with a pleasant toastiness. Parker’s apology Subaru has seat warmers.

“Hey,” Parker greets. He looks squinty-eyed and sleepy. His hair is still damp from a shower.

“What are we doing?” Zach asks, pulling his seatbelt across his lap. He stretches his feet out underneath the dash, running his palm over the smooth fabric of the heated seat.

“Okay, well…” Parker pulls out of Zach’s driveway, heading back onto the main road. “I had an idea, and it might be stupid, but I thought…” He’s not looking at Zach as he speaks. “I wanted to say thank you or whatever for taking me to the lake the other day.”

It takes Zach a moment to comprehend what Parker is saying. “The lake?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Parker takes a turn without using his signal and Zach clutches at the sides of his seat. His palms start to heat up where they’re pressed against the fabric. “It was cool. So, I called your mom and she said it was fine if I took you out today. But it’s, like, two hours away, so I wanted to make sure we got there early so you could get the most out of seeing your first national park.”

“You called my mom,” he repeats. Zach is still trying to follow Parker’s garden-path explanation before the words national park ring firmly in his ears. “You’re taking me to a park?”

Parker exhales, taking the highway on-ramp as he reaches behind Zach into the backseat. The Subaru drifts a little before Parker corrects it with a hard jerk. He pulls his arm back into the front seat and thrusts something into Zach’s lap—a small brown leather book, with the words National Parks and a little tree embossed on the front. When Zach opens it, his empty passport booklet is inside.

“I got you a cover for your park passport thing,” Parker says. “And it looks sad as hell without any stamps in it, so…”

“You’re taking me to a park,” Zach repeats, this time in disbelief. It feels like something has taken up residence in his throat. It’s hard to swallow around the forming lump.

Parker hunches his shoulders a little as they merge messily onto the highway. Someone behind them honks and Parker thrusts his middle finger up over his shoulder.

“We’re going to Saratoga,” Parker answers, his tone clipped, like maybe’s getting annoyed that Zach is asking so many questions. “It’s a national historic park and not, like, a national park like from your book, but they still have stamps. I called the visitor center and checked.”

Zach imagines Parker calling the Saratoga National Historic Park visitor’s center just to ask if they have stamps, and the lump in his throat grows three times its previous size. He looks down at the passport, at its beautiful leather cover. It’s probably the kindest thing anyone has done for him, ever, for any reason. He feels his bottom lip quivering and clamps it between his teeth.

Parker must read something else into Zach’s silence, because he says, “We don’t have to go. I can, like, turn around, or—”

“No!” Zach gasps. He rubs his face with one hand and swallows around the lump in his throat. “No, Parker. This is—this is super cool. I’m…” He trails off, not knowing what to say. This isn’t something that Isaac or Bea or Paige would have done for him. Something about this gesture is wholly and unabashedly Parker.

“Cool,” Parker says. His shoulders relax and a small smile pulls at his mouth.

“How did you get my passport?” Zach asks, flipping through the blank pages. He hadn’t even noticed it missing from his desk.

“I stole it,” Parker admits. “Back when your mom let me and Paige stay.”

Zach squints a little. “Were you going to give it back?”

Parker shrugs. “Yeah, eventually.”

Zach wants to ask why Parker stole his passport but figures it doesn’t really matter, since he’s already given it back—and with such a beautiful, probably expensive cover. As if to change the subject, Parker presses one of the preset dials on his radio, and music fills the car.