After he heard the front door shut, Theo rose, showered, dressed, and went into the kitchen to have breakfast.
Then he called Atticus.
“Hey, I haven’t seen you in forever. Can I pull you away from your girlfriend and hang out tonight?”
There was a long pause. “I don’t know, Theo. I’m kind of in a bad mood.”
“Oh, and this is something new?” Theo taunted.
“Fine. Let’s meet at the Jetties.”
* * *
—
They met at the playground in the dunes. In his backpack Theo carried a six-pack of beer he’d stolen from his mother’s supply. They sat on the swings for a while, idly drinking.
“How’s Beth?” Theo asked, hoping he sounded casual.
Atticus shrugged. “Annoying.”
“What?”
“Maybe it’s not her fault. Maybe I think everyone’s annoying these days.”
“What do your parents say?”
“They want me to see a shrink.”
“That might be a good idea.” Theo gazed out at the water as he spoke, not wanting to get too intense about Atticus’s depression.
“I’ve got a better idea.”
“Oh?”
“Let’s walk.” Atticus rose and headed around the turn where the sharp dark rocks of the jetties began.
Theo ambled along beside him. The water was calm, the waves splashing quietly on the beach. Far in the distance a ferry light glowed. It was spring, but it was still cold. Both guys wore jackets.
“Here’s a good place,” Atticus said. He dropped down in the shallow sand between two dunes.
Theo sat next to him. “Want another beer?”
“Not yet. No. I want you to try this.” Atticus reached into his pocket, pulled out a plastic vial, and shook a couple of white pills into his hand.
“What is it?”
“Oxy.”
“Oh, man.” Theo shook his head. “Don’t do that.”
“Hey, I do it almost every night, and believe me, it’s the best high I’ve ever had.”
“It’s addictive, Atticus.”
“It’s addictive, Atticus,” Atticus mocked in a whiny voice. “Look, try one. One won’t get you hooked. If you want to know what I’ve been up to, this is it.”
“Atticus, come on.”
“You come on. Don’t be a wuss.”
Reluctantly, Theo took a pill.
“Chew it up. It will get in your system faster. Doesn’t taste good, but wash it down with some beer.”
Theo obeyed. “So you’d rather be out here doing this with me than be with Beth?” he asked.
“Beth’s too conservative. She won’t try it with me. She’s become a real nag.”
“That’s a shit thing to say, Atticus,” Theo said. “What’s wrong with you? She’s a…” The rush hit him. “Wow,” he said. “I’ve got to lie down.”
Theo fell back against the sand and lay there with an odd gentle ecstasy rushing through his veins. “I really love you, man,” he said to Atticus.
“Yeah, bro. Me, too.”
Maybe an hour later, Theo woke up to find himself alone in the dune. He called for Atticus, but no answer came. He sat for a while, thinking about the experience. He’d been drunk before, and in high school his sister had brought home some pot and they’d smoked it out in the yard while their mom was at a friend’s house. Unfortunately, they both discovered pot made them anxious, a terrible gripping anxiety causing them to think they couldn’t breathe. They sat outside trying to calm each other, laughing hysterically as the marijuana faded, and Theo vowed he’d never try it again.
Well, oxy was different. He’d totally found that out, and it had been a rush, but not one he wanted to repeat. He liked being in charge of himself. He was learning to surf, and surfing was a natural high, an exhilaration and sense of triumph and a feeling of being truly plugged in to the world.
Eventually Theo pulled himself together and went home. The next morning, Atticus phoned.
Without preamble, Atticus asked, “How did you like that?”
“Truthfully? It was cool. But not for me. I don’t want to get addicted. I want to get better at surfing this summer. I—”
Atticus interrupted. “You know what? You are the most boring guy I’ve ever met. Screw you.”
“Wait, what?” Theo asked.
But Atticus had ended the call.
Theo was miserable all that Sunday, wondering if he should call Beth and tell her what happened, then hating himself for using Atticus as a reason to call Beth, and wondering if he should just go over to Atticus’s house and talk to him, but remembering the times Atticus had been in a funk before, and nothing but time had cured him.
“Is anything wrong?” his mom asked late in the afternoon.
“Yeah. I’m worried about Atticus. He’s kind of depressed.” Theo seldom talked intimately with his mother these days, but he thought he might explode if he didn’t.
“Yes, we’re all worried about him,” his mom said.
Theo, who’d been slumped on the sofa, watching TV, sat up straight. “You are?”
“Sweetie, it’s no secret that Atticus struggles with depression. It’s not anyone’s fault. He might need to be on some kind of medication.”
He is on some kind of medication, Theo thought. But he didn’t tell his mom that. He didn’t want to rat out his friend.
* * *
—
Theo was too busy with sports to see much of Atticus that spring and in a flash, high school was over. The high school graduation ceremony was liberating and terrifying, like being pushed out of a plane for a parachute fall when you weren’t quite ready to jump. Atticus graduated, but he didn’t show up at the ceremony or the parties, and he never answered Theo’s calls. Theo was pumped to go out to California for surfing and college, and he was pretty much all about himself and getting off the island. So he gave up on trying to connect with Atticus.
That summer, Theo got a job at Young’s Bicycle Shop on the strip. He liked the work. He was good at fixing bikes, good at dealing with people. On his time off, he surfed, when the waves were good enough.