with… what happened to your friend, you probably wouldn’t want to stay.”
“But what good would leaving do?”
“Don’t you, you know, want to go be with your parents?” The looks I got reminded me it had been a decade since I was seventeen.
“So… I guess you’re staying?”
“That’s what Shaun would want,” Dorrie said, and turned to Billy. “Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Billy said. “You could write that down if you want. We’re staying at Melting Rock because that’s what Shaun would
want.”
It was as good a quote as any, so I jotted it down. “But don’t you think they might cancel the rest of the festival?”
Now the two of them looked genuinely horrified. Dorrie recovered first. “Are you serious?”
“I’m just guessing.”
“But why would they do that?”
“Well, for one thing, the police might be worried that if Shaun really died from a drug overdose, maybe somebody else’d do
the same thing.”
Dorrie unclasped her arms and ran the butt-free hand through her spiky hair. Then she just said, “Oh.”
“And listen,” I said, “I’m not trying to be your mother or anything, but if you guys have any…you know…If you’ve got any drugs
on you, for chrissake, don’t take them. Flush them down the toilet or whatever, okay?” Dorrie and Billy offered a pair of
shrugs by way of response. “Trish?”
She looked up from the ground, though her eyes didn’t quite meet mine. “Okay. Whatever.”
Billy pulled out another cigarette and offered the pack around. This time, I took one—not so much to ingratiate myself with
them as to calm my nerves. I still couldn’t shake the memory of Shaun Kirtz’s vacant eyes.
Billy produced an expensive-looking windproof lighter, and I leaned toward the flame. “So what do you want to know about Shaun?”
he asked.
“Well, first off, how long have you guys known him?”
He lit his own butt and pocketed the lighter. “Since, like, fifth grade. He and his mom moved here from San Francisco.”
“What about his dad?”
“Shaun never met him,” Trish told the grass. “Never even knew who he was.”
“Yeah, but it isn’t like it bugs him or anything,” Dorrie said. “He and his mom are really tight.”
“Really? What’s she like?”
“She’s really cool. She lived in Haight-Ashbury back in the day, when she was our age. And when she got older, she decided
she wanted to have a baby, so she had Shaun—even though she wasn’t married. Don’t you think that’s cool?”
“You said before she had a shop in Gabriel. Which one is it?”
“You know the yarn store on the Green?”
“The one that sells all the homespun wool? Sure.”
“That’s his mom’s place. She raises her own sheep—shaves them and spins it and dyes it and everything.”
“Where do they live?”
“You know Eco-Homeland?”
I did. It was a latter-day commune a couple of miles off the main road between Gabriel and Jaspersburg, a clutch of modernish
buildings where people who earned incomes in the mid-to-high five figures could live in environmentally conscious comfort.
“So what kind of things was Shaun interested in?”
Billy fielded that one. “Lots of stuff,” he said. “He’s a huge skateboard freak, for one thing. That and computers—he’s a
total whiz. You ever see that movie
Hackers?
He
loves
that movie. He’s always saying he wishes he lived in a big city so he could hang with guys like that.”
I noticed he was still talking about Shaun in the present tense—understandable, since the guy’s body was barely cold. “So…he’s
that good at computers, huh?”
“He’s
amazing,
” Dorrie chimed in. “Like, he never paid for a long-distance call—he had some system he figured out to do it for free and—”
Billy put up a hand to interrupt her. “You can’t put that in the paper. I mean, his mom didn’t know that he—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He exhaled smoke in a relieved plume.
“But what good would leaving do?”
“Don’t you, you know, want to go be with your parents?” The looks I got reminded me it had been a decade since I was seventeen.
“So… I guess you’re staying?”
“That’s what Shaun would want,” Dorrie said, and turned to Billy. “Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Billy said. “You could write that down if you want. We’re staying at Melting Rock because that’s what Shaun would
want.”
It was as good a quote as any, so I jotted it down. “But don’t you think they might cancel the rest of the festival?”
Now the two of them looked genuinely horrified. Dorrie recovered first. “Are you serious?”
“I’m just guessing.”
“But why would they do that?”
“Well, for one thing, the police might be worried that if Shaun really died from a drug overdose, maybe somebody else’d do
the same thing.”
Dorrie unclasped her arms and ran the butt-free hand through her spiky hair. Then she just said, “Oh.”
“And listen,” I said, “I’m not trying to be your mother or anything, but if you guys have any…you know…If you’ve got any drugs
on you, for chrissake, don’t take them. Flush them down the toilet or whatever, okay?” Dorrie and Billy offered a pair of
shrugs by way of response. “Trish?”
She looked up from the ground, though her eyes didn’t quite meet mine. “Okay. Whatever.”
Billy pulled out another cigarette and offered the pack around. This time, I took one—not so much to ingratiate myself with
them as to calm my nerves. I still couldn’t shake the memory of Shaun Kirtz’s vacant eyes.
Billy produced an expensive-looking windproof lighter, and I leaned toward the flame. “So what do you want to know about Shaun?”
he asked.
“Well, first off, how long have you guys known him?”
He lit his own butt and pocketed the lighter. “Since, like, fifth grade. He and his mom moved here from San Francisco.”
“What about his dad?”
“Shaun never met him,” Trish told the grass. “Never even knew who he was.”
“Yeah, but it isn’t like it bugs him or anything,” Dorrie said. “He and his mom are really tight.”
“Really? What’s she like?”
“She’s really cool. She lived in Haight-Ashbury back in the day, when she was our age. And when she got older, she decided
she wanted to have a baby, so she had Shaun—even though she wasn’t married. Don’t you think that’s cool?”
“You said before she had a shop in Gabriel. Which one is it?”
“You know the yarn store on the Green?”
“The one that sells all the homespun wool? Sure.”
“That’s his mom’s place. She raises her own sheep—shaves them and spins it and dyes it and everything.”
“Where do they live?”
“You know Eco-Homeland?”
I did. It was a latter-day commune a couple of miles off the main road between Gabriel and Jaspersburg, a clutch of modernish
buildings where people who earned incomes in the mid-to-high five figures could live in environmentally conscious comfort.
“So what kind of things was Shaun interested in?”
Billy fielded that one. “Lots of stuff,” he said. “He’s a huge skateboard freak, for one thing. That and computers—he’s a
total whiz. You ever see that movie
Hackers?
He
loves
that movie. He’s always saying he wishes he lived in a big city so he could hang with guys like that.”
I noticed he was still talking about Shaun in the present tense—understandable, since the guy’s body was barely cold. “So…he’s
that good at computers, huh?”
“He’s
amazing,
” Dorrie chimed in. “Like, he never paid for a long-distance call—he had some system he figured out to do it for free and—”
Billy put up a hand to interrupt her. “You can’t put that in the paper. I mean, his mom didn’t know that he—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He exhaled smoke in a relieved plume.
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