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"Accident."
"Like a car?"
"A truck."
Wes sounded as calm as Donnie's mother after she took her little white pills.
"You want to fuck up the driver?"
"Yeah but he's gone. Didn't even live here."
"Wish somebody'd run into my father. Don't you want to fuck things up sometimes?"
"Explode, yeah," Wes had said. "And my mom's going out with this guy. A computer guy. He's okay. He hacks code real good. But it's like my dad never even existed, you know. And I can't say anything."
"'Cause you'll get the crap beat out of you."
Wes had just repeated, "Explode."
They hung out some more and finally Donnie let him into the Defend and Respond Expedition Service game. He needed a partner because Lann, fuck him, had moved.
Donnie, who spent hours a day at video games, had made up the game himself. Defend and Respond Expedition Service. But they thought of it as what it really was: D.A.R.E.S. Well, dares.
Donnie and now Wes were on one side, Vincent and Nathan on the second. One team dared the other to do something totally fucked-up: steal something, shoot pictures up a girl's skirt, piss on a teacher's lesson plan. You got a point if you met the challenge--and came back with proof. At the end of the month, whoever had the most points won. They wrote it up like a board game with fake countries and codes and names--Darth and Wolverine--so that any parents looking the game over would just think it was like Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter or whatever.
Wes hadn't been sure about joining at first. Donnie's crew wasn't Wes's flavor. But Donnie could see he was interested and, after the first couple dares, even though he only watched Donnie's back, it was way clear that he got a high out of it. Like he'd almost smiled in Asilomar that time, watching Donnie and Nathan beat the crap out of the whiny little Lat.
But would he really come around? Donnie Verso wondered again. Time would tell. Like Mother always said.
He walked into Starbucks, ordered coffee and sat down next to Wes, who was texting. The kid glanced up, nodded and put his phone away.
"Hey."
They bumped fists.
For the next ten minutes they talked, in whispers, about how best to get into Goldshit's garage and steal their bikes back. Wes thought it was smart not to do it just the two of them, but get Nathan and Vincent too.
Donnie thought that wasn't a bad idea.
After a few minutes Wes said, "I heard Kerry and Gayle'll be at Foster's. Want to go up there?"
"Is Tiff with them?"
"I don't know. I just heard Kerry and Gayle."
"K. Let's go."
They headed out and turned north, making for the old department store, now a restaurant--at least on the first floor.
They got about one block and Donnie laughed and slapped Wes's arm. "Look who it is."
It was that prick, Rashiv. Mrs. Dance had mentioned him the other night. Donnie and his D.A.R.E.S. crew had whaled on him about six weeks or so ago. Donnie didn't quite know why; maybe because Rashit wasn't even a democratic U.S. citizen and he should go back to where he came from, Syria or India or wherever. But mostly they pounded on him and pulled his pants down and launched his book bag into the water off Lovers Point because it was something to do.
And here he was now.
Rashiv glanced up and, terror in his eyes, he saw Donnie and Wes walking right toward him. They were on Lighthouse, the main commercial street in Pacific Grove, and plenty of people were around so the kid didn't think he was going to get lashed but he still looked plenty scared.
"Yo, bitch," Donnie said.
