LUCKIES
Carl had a fake ID, so George’s 15th birthday celebration took on an immediate flavor of cereal malt and Lucky Strikes.
None of the five boys had a car, so they told George’s mom they were seeing a double feature at the mall - Gotcha and a sneak preview of Fletch. She assented to drop them off and pick them up.
They never made the movie. Instead they converted their money into two packs of filtered Lucky Strikes at Food 4 Less and a case of Olympia at the Kwik Mart. Logistics weren’t their strong suit, so they had no place outside of public view to drink their beer in rebellious peace. David scouted a spot behind Straw Hat Pizza that was enclosed by a privacy fence. The space was also home to a trash dumpster and grease disposal container.
The boys drank and tried to smoke and took turns busting one another about girls, sports, and alcohol tolerance. They spun stories of past fights and present rivalries. They ragged on their folks, siblings, and coaches. They smashed cans in creative ways and coughed as they failed to blow smoke rings. But all that laughter was tinged with the adolescent fear of not being cool enough to be sitting here.
At one point a cook from the pizza place slid open the gate and looked at the boys. They immediately offered him a beer, which the cook shoved into his black pants as he tossed a bag into the dumpster. “Thanks for the brewski. Smell you later, kiddos,” he said.
The boys had determined in advance when the movies would be over, so they shuffled back to the theater to call for a ride. Kirk produced a beer as he walked through the parking lot, and he drank it with a decided lack of concern. George told everyone to cool out. He told his friends to chew the gum he had given them. The ride home, to George, was punctuated by inappropriate jokes by his friends and a vaguely sinister undercurrent that their rite-of-passage shenanigans weren’t quite as transformative as he had hoped they would be.
Once they returned to the apartment, George was told he was needed upstairs.
“Who the fuck is drinking the beer?” It came as a spit whisper from George’s father. George paused and spoke and took one for the team. He was told he was a liar and a coward and would be dealt with when his friends were gone.
George slumped down the stairs to his tipsy friends. Before George could even say they were busted, David said he and Pat were sneaking out.
“Please don’t. “
“Sliding door, man. Quiet. No one will ever know.”
“Don’t you get it, we are busted. I told them it was me, not you guys.”
George expected appreciation, but Pat and David got up, unlatched the lock over a cough and slipped out.
George had a game over in Abilene the next day at noon, which only delayed his punishment. He went 0-3 on his birthday with three strikeouts - one looking - and two errors at second.
He didn’t lie when his father asked how he had played. And George didn’t ask if there would be cake.