Some Are Sicker Than Others by Andrew Seaward Page B

call me? Huh? Why not have your sister pick him up?”
    “She can’t. She’s stuck at the house waiting for the carpet people.”
    “Carpet people? What? Is she getting her carpets cleaned?”
    “Yes.”
    “That figures.”
    “Look Dave, just promise me you’ll take him directly to my sister’s. That means no stopping for hamburgers or ice cream.”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
    “Do you promise?”
    “Yes, I promise. Jesus!”
    He hit the end button and shoved the phone back into his pocket then stood up from the desk and pulled on his jacket. He checked the clock. Shit, it was almost eleven-thirty. By the time he got back from Broomfield it would almost be twelve-thirty. How was he gonna do this? How was he gonna find time to load up the school bus? He still had to pack up the balls and pack up the coolers, fill up the gas and check the tires. God damn her. She always did this. She always treated him like he was an idiot. If she’d just trust him for once and let Larry come with him then there wouldn’t be a god damn problem. There was no way he was gonna make it. He’d be lucky if he even got a chance to sit down and eat a fucking sandwich.
    He reached across the desk and grabbed his pipe, lighter, and little plastic bottle and, in one sweeping motion, brushed them all into the bottom desk drawer on top of the ungraded earth science midterms. Alright, he could do this. He was gonna have to drive like a maniac and hope he didn’t get pulled over. He took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead then walked across the office and flipped off the light switch.

 
     
    Chapter 7
     
    Larry
     
     
    A HALF hour later, Dave was in his Volkswagen flying down Broadway, heading south towards Larry’s school on Table Mesa Drive in South Boulder. He had the windows rolled down and the radio blaring and was singing along to Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne. But he was starting to get hungry. He hadn’t had anything to eat all day except that bagel and coffee. He reached across the passenger seat and dug into his little blue gym bag then pulled out the bottle of Kentucky straight bourbon. He looked out both windows to make sure there was no one beside him then twisted off the cap and turned up the bottle. He coughed and gagged as the bourbon slithered into his stomach, causing his throat to pulsate and his eyes to water, but it felt so damn good that he wiped his mouth and took another, then another and another and another and another. When he was satisfied, he twisted the cap back on the bottle and safely tucked it back inside his little, blue gym bag. He pulled a shirt over it to hide the label then closed the bag and zipped up the zipper. Alright, good, great, grand, wonderful…he was ready to pick up Larry and finish off this nightmare. He flipped on his turn signal and swerved across the highway, almost colliding with a minivan that was hiding in his right blind spot. The woman in the van laid on the horn and threw up her hands in a “what the fuck?” gesture, mouthing something at Dave as he flew right by her.
    “Woops. Sorry.” Dave said, sticking his hand out the window, waving and laughing at just how close he came to hitting her. “Sorry you’re such a bitch. Ha ha ha.” He pulled his hand back in the window then eased on the brake and took a left onto Table Mesa.
    Larry’s school was on the corner of Table Mesa and Tantra safely tucked away inside a boutique shopping center. There was a crowd of children and teachers waiting on the curb of a brick-lined, semi-circle driveway that was jam-packed with a procession of Jaguars and Mercedes. Christ, look at these people, a bunch of rich assholes sipping on their lattes and chatting on their cell phones. Bet they never thought their kids would end up at this place—an overpriced, under-resourced daycare for the mentally challenged. Probably thought little Johnny was gonna grow up to be a stock broker, just like daddy. Sorry folks, guess that wasn’t what the