Everyday People Read Online Free Page B

the operating room cold and smelling like ammonia. When the doctor bent down he could see a drop of blood caught in her blond eyebrow. Well hello Miss Ann. There was a saw making the same screaming it did in shop. Wait, he wanted to say, hold up, but her face came down, the drop of blood like a bug, a roach hidden in spaghetti. He tried to talk but the air was sweet, even sugary, a licorice musk of rubber, and then there was nothing but space, floating, no stars, just a dark, bottomless night. Welcome to the Delta Quadrant.
    â€œMute it,” someone says, and Crest does. He’s already taken his pills; maybe that’s it. This doesn’t happen every night, just some. He always looks for reasons but never finds any, like he’s being controlled by some alien force, like googly old Tom Paris. Fuck.
    It’s just Bean.
    The commercials go on too long, so they know it’s the end. When it comes back on, Crest remembers. It’s not The Doctor, it’s B’Elanna who saves everyone. She kisses Tom and his true personality comes back and kicks the alien’s ass right out of his mouth. The Doctor makes up some fancy explanation that the other ones need Tom to keep living, so they all get better, all at once. The green ghosts join up in ablob and go out into space. The special effects are weak, and everyone laughs. Crest is wondering about Vanessa, if a kiss from her would make everything all right. Before, he would have said more than a kiss, but now he thinks: yes. He should call her tomorrow.
    Some of the girls stick around for a preview of next week, the new season, then everyone leaves during the credits. It’s a school night, but still he’s disappointed. Janelle French waves. “Keep ya head up, baby.”
    The ten o’clock news comes on, the drive-by the top story. He knows the place, Aliquippa Terrace. There was a dance there years ago, in the spring. It’s another Bean and me story, a fight over a stolen coat, and Crest doesn’t even get into it, just squashes that mad stuff, shoves it back where it belongs. What the fuck. Even if he had someone to talk to he wouldn’t say anything. What’s there to say? In the paper they said he was the fourth teenager to die in East Liberty that week, like it was some drug shit. It made it sound like it was Bean’s fault. And then nothing, just a little thing in the obituaries. Crest didn’t even get to go to the funeral. Still hasn’t been to see the stone Miss Fisk bought him. Hasn’t even talked with Miss Fisk, said he’s sorry. Soon. Got to, you know?
    The door swings open, almost hitting him.
    â€œAy,” U says, in some old street clothes, corduroy slippers.
    â€œS’up.”
    â€œWhere’s all your little girlfriends?”
    â€œShow’s over,” Crest says. “Pops go to bed yet?”
    â€œHe’s out on the couch.”
    They sit there, Crest in his chair, U on the wall, watching the news. Pirates won; Kevin Young plants one in the stands.
    â€œGo ’head, K.Y.,” U says, and Crest smiles with him. He’s so clean it’s hard to believe. Quit everything, not even beer anymore. Back in the day they’d sit here and pound down Iron Citys. Had a fly rap with the ladies, decked-out Impala he used to cruise Highland in, stylin threads. That’s all gone, and what’s in its place is something Crest doesn’t understand. And Crest in his chair; it’s the same, he thinks. They’ve changed. Where they’ve been no one can go. It’s like they’ve come back from different planets and they’ve got nothing to say to each other, or maybe they’re speaking a completely different language. Maybe they’re both fucked up. Maybe Bean got off easy. (No, that’s cold.)
    â€œU, man.”
    â€œHunh?”
    â€œWhat’s up with Moms and Pops?”
    â€œThey’re just fighting.”
    â€œNaw, man, it’s