Even Steven

            Rain poured over us as we fought blindly to see who would control the car keys. The front yard was full of mud and water seemed to be everywhere as I fought with the little wimp that was trying to stop me from leaving.

            He was a fighter, I gave him that. Even though he was three inches shorter and fifty pounds lighter than me, I could not get the keys out of his grip. We flopped around in the mud like a couple of beached fish.

            "Give it up, Steve!" he shouted at me. He had to, because the combination of the excitement, the driving rain, the fifth of Bacardi and the bowl of hash I had enjoyed at the party were making the world a very weird and hard to understand place for me. "I'm not letting you drive anywhere!"

            I looked back at the house, and realized the worst had happened. The other kids at the party had noticed the commotion and come outside to spectate. This was not cool in any way. They stood there in the rain and watched us like a bunch of cattle checking out Farmer Brown.

            That was it. I couldn't hold back anymore, not even against such a worthy but dumb opponent. "Sorry, Vince." I said. "I gotta rampage on you." With that and a peer-pressure inspired adrenaline boost, I grabbed the kid's wrist and twisted, flipping him onto his stomach. I climbed on top of him like the varsity wrestler I was.

            The hand that belonged to the wrist I gripped did not agree that this fight was over. It held onto the keys like my dog with a tennis ball. I tried prying and pulling, but the geek just wouldn't give up.

            Then my drug-fogged mind recalled something else we'd learned in wrestling. One day, Coach had shown us a hold a lot like this, where one guy held another in a wrist grip. He'd been showing us ways to get out of it, and said "Now, if your man's holding something and you want him to let go of it, just do this." and twisted sharply to the inside.

            The rest of the flashback disappeared as I twisted in the recommended direction. I don't remember exactly what happened. All I do remember is that Vince let go of the keys pronto. I grabbed them and got to my feet as well as I could. Stumbling off in the direction of my GSX, I heard something that sounded like a moan, but I was concentrating too hard on figuring out which key unlocked the door and which one turned the ignition.

            Anyone who's ever driven drunk doesn't need an explanation of the games you play with yourself. The first and the biggest happens when you get in the car. I can handle this, you tell yourself. I'll just take it easy. I sat for a second, listened to the rain pounding a monotonous roll on the sunroof and repeated this to myself until I believed it.

             Somehow, I did get home that night. By the next morning, I felt pretty lousy. Especially after a call from Susie Carter, the girl who had hosted the party.

            "Hi, Sue" I said, figuring that she was probably calling to tell me what girls at the party thought I was cute.

            "Did Vince's parents call you?" she asked, no friendliness in her voice.

            I dimly remembered wrestling with the guy over my keys last night but drew a blank about why his folks would be calling me. "No. Why would they?"

            "You mean you don't remember?"

            "Remember what?" Wrestling practice flashed through my mind, but I still drew a blank.

            "Come on, big man." Her tone had gained a nasty quality I didn't care for. "Don't you remember the kung fu lesson you gave him last night? You broke his wrist-fractured it in two places, as a matter of fact."

            It all flooded back into my mind now, the twist and the instant drop of the keys. I was still about two steps behind. "So? It was an accident. The little geek shouldn't have gotten in my-"

            "You don't understand, do you, you bonehead jock?" the anger in her voice made my head hurt worse. "They're gonna file charges. Against you, and me, and my parents. You for assault, me for serving liquor to minors and my folks for contributing to the delinquency of minors. This is big time, buddy. Big time."

            I was beginning to catch the drift. "Your parents are out of town. Besides, we can get a hundred people that were there to swear that there was no booze served. We've done it before." Susie had hosted a few parties for the students of Mill Valley.

            "We're not juniors anymore. The kids who were there are applying to colleges. I've been on the phone all morning. No one is going to admit they were there while they've got applications under consideration."

            I suddenly remembered my own applications still under consideration. This was serious. "What can we do?"

            "You mean what can you do. I won't take the fall in this. I'll claim that you drank on your own and got there drunk. I got no choice, Steve. I know we've known each other since first grade, but I'll do it."

            That hit me like a Coopersville defensive tackle. We had known each other since elementary school, which made it hurt worse. She was gonna sell me out. I did the only thing I could. I said "Thanks, bitch" and hung up the phone.

            It took about ten minutes to realize that there was one way out of this mess. I had to convince Vince to talk his folks out of pressing charges. A phone call to his dad posing as a concerned friend gave me the hospital where he was staying. It also confirmed that he was pressing charges, but gave me a reason to hope; Vince had not told him the name of his assailant. I supposed Susie had been planning to do that if necessary.

            I drove unsteadily over to the hospital. It always seemed like I drove worse hung over than drunk.  Maybe I just felt worse.  Anyway, Vince's room had only Vince in it, watching Jeopardy! and shouting out the answers. His right arm was wrapped in a cast and elevated above the bed.

            It took him a minute to notice me. When he did, he surprised me by turning off the TV and calling, "Hi Steve! Sit yourself down!" He smiled and pointed at a chair.

            I took off my letter jacket and sat, suspicious of his pleasantness. It reminded me of Dad when he was really angry. "How's the arm?" I asked, assuming my best hey-bud-tough-break-excuse-the-pun attitude. I would try to be friendly, but if that didn't work, I was ready to do some damage.

            "Still attached." He continued to smile, which I found really disturbing. I had never really noticed Vince before. Now, I looked right at him and found that he wasn't bad looking, all cleaned up and wearing hospital whites. His blue eyes seemed to glitter.

            I decided to try the direct approach. "Look man, I'm really sorry about what happened. I was drunk, and-"

            "Save it, bud." He cut me off, something I wasn't used to. "I know why you're here. You're trying to save your own skin. You heard my folks are pressing charges, but don't know who to press them against. You also probably figured that you could charm, coerce or intimidate me into keeping quiet and getting it dropped. Right?"

            "Well...I..." I tried to wriggle out, but he had me pinned. "Seems like you've got the cards. What do you want?"

            "I don't just have the cards, I've got a freaking royal flush. Your parents would kill you if they heard what happened. You'd wind up at McDonald's on the day shift."

            I couldn't argue with that. "So? What do you want?"

            "I'm going to blackmail you, Steve. I'm going to keep my mouth shut, and in return you're going to do something."

            I figured he wanted me to set him up to score with one of the cheerleaders. "I can probably get a chick, if that's what you want. Sorry, I don't have any money." A lie, but I needed an ace.

            He laughed. "Don't insult me. Do you know why I chased you and went after those keys? Did anyone tell you about my father, my real one?"

            I had heard murmuring around school but hadn't cared. "No."

            "Well, my dad got together with some booze and a car once..." he trailed off. I got a little closer to caring. He paused for a second and resumed. "I have some strong feeling about drinking. Especially alcoholism, which is what you're on the road to. I've seen it before, believe me." I didn't want to ask.

            You can probably figure out the rest. That was three years ago, and we've both kept our ends of the bargain. He got his folks chilled down, and I haven't missed an A.A. meeting since that week. I think I got a lot better bargain than he did. In fact, there are still times when I feel like I owe him something.

            Like now. Our team's center just stumbled out the door of the frat into the rain searching for his car. He's 6'5" and over 300, and doesn't like me anyway because I don't party. I feel like a scrawny geek at a high school bash. I'm going to go out there and stop him, even if it means getting my head kicked in.

            It's not a bad feeling.