“Worried about all the pills he’s taking,” Jasper says.
I let out a whoosh of breath that turns into an inadvertent laugh. “You? You’re worried about Liam and medicinal anti-inflammatories? Jasper, I watched you carve a bong out of a butternut squash last month.”
“And?”
“Are you serious? You’re like the Stephen Hawking of getting high. You have a PhD in being shithoused. I can name five different illegal substances I’ve watched you ingest. You’re hardly one to judge, Jasper, no offense.”
Why is it that everything about Jasper smacks of an ’80s film? From his smarmy, ironic bow ties to his stupid nicknames to his penchant for loud pants. I’m half expecting this conversation to be a ruse because he’s secretly crushing on me, like how James Spader’s character was actually into Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink. Cordy says this kind of thing happens all the time. Nobody fancies you and then you get a boyfriend, and, wham! Suddenly you’re a hot property because you’re off the market. She suspects it’s the sex pheromones.
While I’m flattered by Jasper’s attention, I’m not interested. I’m delighted to be LiMone. Liam’s everything I could ever want and then some.
“Okay, number one, big difference between a couple of disco biscuits at a party and what our boy’s doing.” When he points at me, I notice his enormous gold signet ring that looks to be an antique. I’d tell him that was perfect for him, except I don’t like his attitude.
He continues, “Number two, this is not about me—this is about L-Money. Number three, I’m telling you, he’s in deep. He’s in so deep that I had to cut him off a few weeks ago. His usage is seriously out of hand. Here’s the thing—I know him. I know him way better than you, in fact.”
This comment rubs me entirely the wrong way. “Jealous much?”
He scoffs at that. “Um, hardly. I’ve known him all my life and this isn’t who he is. The in too deep part is legit. If we’re all about being Gatekeepers, we’re supposed to be hypervigilant. This is me, going the full Batman and looking out for him.”
Pfft. Batman. More like Bateman, as in Patrick Bateman, the preppy murderer from American Psycho.
“Jasper, I need to go to class. Pardon me.” I try to ease myself out the door, but he steps in the way, putting up his arm to stop me.
“Chastity Belt, you gotta listen to me.”
“Chastity Belt? How about Simone?”
“Whatever, I mean, Simone. He’s not taking his own script, Simone. You know that, right, Simone? When he tweaked his ACL this fall, I gave him some Vicodin. I deal mostly in herb and Adderall, but I have other sources. Okay, full disclosure, I mean my mom’s medicine cabinet. So, he and I talked about it and we figured if he went to the athletic trainers with his injury, he’d be benched. Didn’t want to risk it in case he ends up needing that soccer scholarship at University of Florida. They have a kick-ass program and he’d rock it down there.”
I interrupt, “He says he’s not playing next year. Why would he even need a soccer scholarship?”
“’Cause his dad’s a frigging psychopath who could pull his financial support at any time. On a scholarship, he can be his own man. Anyway, I figured he’d eventually see a doctor. When he didn’t, I scored some more, enough to get him through State. That was like, six or seven weeks ago. After the season ended, I stopped supplying him and he snuck into my parents’ room and cleaned out my mom’s whole stash.”
First my parents and now Jasper? This is too much. I do not have time for this nonsense. “Please. You have parties all the time. How do you know it was him? There’s a hundred kids at your place on any given weekend. Could have been anyone.”
“Because Storey-time Harper said after Liam was at his house last week, his dad’s script went missing. Same thing happened when he showed up at Finn Stapleton’s place on Thursday. Liam took all the hydrocodone the Stapler had left over when he had his wisdom teeth removed. Our boy has a problem, Simone. He has a problem and we need to help. I mean, his whole personality has changed and that is no bueno. We’ve got to, like, gatekeep him.”
I truly don’t want to be in the middle of this, especially when it’s such a nonissue. Liam is fine. I know he’s fine. He’s fantastic, in fact. He’s not some bum, staggering around skid row, aching for a fix. My God, he’s a tenth of a grade point away from being the valedictorian! I wish everyone could just see that any changes in his personality or behavior are because he says he’s so much happier since we’re together, now that he has the dual burdens of Mallory and Princeton off his back.
I don’t want to encourage Jasper, but I hate to argue, so I say, “Then maybe you should talk to him.”
“Yeah, I did and now he’s not speaking to me. A couple of us held a mini-intervention with him over the weekend and he’s icing us all out.” Could that be true? We haven’t been sitting with that squad at lunch. “He’s ignoring Storey-time, he’s blowing off the Stapler, he’s off the grid for all of Wild, Wild Weston’s texts. No, wait, he replied to one of them, all User Not Found. C’mon man, oldest trick in the book.”
“I’m sure he’s just busy—we’ve been spending loads of time together.”
Jasper won’t be dissuaded. “At the Gatekeepers dealio last week, the Gorton Fisherman kept saying how drug use and suicidal behaviors were, like, interconnected. That doesn’t worry you?”
Jasper’s stretching now. I counter, “You sell drugs, for Christ’s sake! If you cared so much, you’d stop dealing.”
“I did. I’ve retired.”
I roll my eyes. “Congratulations, did you get your gold watch?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He glances down at his Rolex. “I wear a Submariner. Gold is, like, no.”
“When a person retires after so many years on the job, they receive a—never mind. My point is, if he had a problem, he’d talk to me.” I mean, we’re practically enmeshed. We’re LiMone. We’re one, in every sense. “And why is everyone up poor Liam’s arse anyway? Christ on a bike, he’s been in agony. Cut him a small break! Do you realize how hard it’s been for him to accomplish everything he’s done this year while in constant, throbbing pain? He says he’s managing his medicine and I believe him. He wouldn’t lie to me. Not now.”
Jasper snorts. “No offense, Simone, but it sounds like you’re the only one who isn’t trying to help him.”
I duck under his arm and scoot out the door before he can grab me.
“Good bye, Jasper. This conversation is over.”
“No, Simone,” he replies as I retreat. “It’s really not.”
Owen
1:17 PM
yo, kent, we still on for ltr?
34
KENT
“We’re rolling in five, four, three, two...”
Owen’s been counting down, and on the one, he points to me. I open my mouth to say something, but I’m not sure what. From his spot behind the lens, he nods encouragingly. Nice, but not particularly useful as I’m still at a loss for words.