Avishai Sol

Herd When Zane shit himself, I thought that was it. During this time of my life it wasn’t rare for my buddies and me to get slammed at our local pub and go around the neighborhood getting into one brand of high jinks or another. How many of us can say the same? As they go, this week we were especially keen. Midterm exams and projects had kept our faces so close to the grindstone they’d been rubbed raw. It was the kind of ten day stretch that keeps your hands in your eyes and your sphincters clenched. So, as we trouped out of our dorm three by three, we carried with us a certain sense of pride and accomplishment. It was like a physical exhale as we stepped over the dimming campus courtyard, and as we sneered at one another about which exams the other had failed or questions they’d fucked up, we did so with the knowledge that they couldn’t hurt us anymore. Six of us had managed to wear the same grey sweatshirt. Maybe because we were going into town, or maybe because we had already worn every article of clothing that wasn’t stuffed to the bottom of our drawers. We were the sort of bunch that stuck our noses up at those public conformers who dripped school spirit, but row by row we stepped in unison, in uniform. Like every gathering of dudes, we had a brash, fat, leader, who would speak in capital letters. Affectionately referred to as Burger, whether we had dubbed him that or he’d wrote it himself was lost and forgotten to time. Walking backwards as he rang jokes out over the threshold, Burger lead us through the campus gate and across the street without ever turning to look over his shoulder. He oozed the kind of swagger that the rest of our group aspired to project. Or maybe he just oozed. As we turned the corner onto Sackville Street, we felt the eyes of the Townies on our backs. It always seemed to me that the relationship between college students and their respective Townies could be boiled down to how they stared at one another. I don’t know that the dynamic between us was the badly contained class war advertised by most college towns, not unless we made it so. Either way, both sides had neither the smarts or stupidity to try and bridge the gap. Our Townies usually hung out anywhere but on Sackville Street. We had chiseled it out of midtown and had been laying progressively stronger claims to it with each passing year. Filled mostly with shops and restaurants, the average student could pop by for a change of scenery and drink if they were old enough. Drinking restrictions were consistent with the law, no favours were granted, none were asked. As our group squeezed itself along the sidewalk, we gave off an unmistakable air of self-worth. The people couldn’t know that we were celebrating the end of exams, but I’m sure everyone we passed could smell the smugness we were wearing, the bounce in our knees. I wonder if any of us would be this unashamedly cheery if we weren’t in a posse, if we didn’t have Burger in front, I certainly wouldn’t be, but that day we all still had steadfast faith in our own immortality. How many of us can say the same? As we filed into the pub the sound of rock radio hit us before the low lighting did. A bar aimed at young men, buffalo wings, and 80s music, there was not a chair or a corner that distinguished itself. The place leaned so fully into its own cliché that it was almost unique. High stools, red leather booths lining the walls, a tower of coloured bottles behind the bar, and a tiny gun that would spray soda into every mixed drink and foggy glass. As soon as we stepped in, the room belonged to us. Burger parked his generous ass in the centre of the biggest booth and introduced us all to the waitress before she had crossed the room. As we all filed in around him in our respective hierarchy, Burger opened a tab and two orders of nachos for the table. I took a minute stare at the waitress. Burger was now swapping war stories with Zane and Lamar. Trade secrets on buying weed turned into a political commentary, then back into stories about weed, which Zane turned into a gag about Lamar’s small hands and what that might imply. This treated us to Lamar’s unfiltered opinion on where Zane could stick his hands. We all broke at that. Laughing together with varying levels of gusto and tenor. Burger’s laugh carried above all of ours. He was always in the front or center, but his voice seemed to reach every ear. He never really shouted, he just rang. As the evening and the orders went on, more and more people began to fill the pub. Mostly other students either celebrating or drowning their exam results, they all inspired a reaction from Burger and the rest of us. A trio of high-waisted freshman got a volley of hollers and cackles as they ordered their ginger ales, some cheerleaders got the same. It wasn’t until the streetlights came on outside that Burger decided to take his conversation public. He got up from his seat and shuffled himself along the bench as my side of the booth made way to let him out. My legs had fallen asleep and a swayed where I stood. I saw I wasn’t alone as Burger lugged his legs, straight kneed, closer to the centre of the pub, palms up and eye level. “Everybody, everybody. I’m sorry, I have an announcement.” The few people who hadn’t already turned their heads to him turned their heads to him. “My friends and I have been coming here and sitting at this table for many years now, and I think that we got to have some recognition. Or y’know, not really recognition, but some sort way to know who we are. Right? So I say, and I want to know what you think, we should name this the, we should name it after us. Guys! What should we call our table?” It took us a second to realize we were being addressed and a second more to think of a reply. We shouted out what came to mind. “The roll table!” “The crew table!” “Burger and fries!” To think of names after ‘Burger and fries’ was much more difficult. I tried to catch someone else’s bemused eye from across our empty glasses but instead had my gaze drawn past the far end of our booth to a pair of frowning men a few tables down. Their gray hair was thick and their gaunt faces were jagged but not creased. They kept looking between each other and us, and at Burger, who was still trying to think of names for the table he’d claimed. I think they began to stare more exclusively at us once I thought to notice, but it could have been like that all along. I looked away, looked back, and then away again. It was really incredible, I thought to myself, that as soon as your try not to look at something your eye is almost drawn to it magnetically. I looked at every person around the entire room to overcompensate. Lamar, now at the centre of the booth, was trying to gently call Burger back. As he stood centre stage speaking to everybody, people started to join Lamar in encouraging him to sit down. Wait staff, the bar tender, customers, everyone. Mostly polite, or as polite as yelling at someone to sit down can be. Until the two older guys a few tables down cupped their hands around their mouths and said, very audibly. “Sit down, you fat fuck” The volume dropped. Almost everyone who had been staring at Burger now turned and looked towards the two guys. They looked around at everyone for a spell and then lowered their heads and watched their own drinks. It took Burger a second to realize he was being addressed and a second more to think of a reply. “Th’da fuck did you just say?” now very red in the face, was looking square at the table in the corner. There was no air of bravado now, just sloppy anger. “Hey. Hey! What’d you say that to? Hey!” He took a slow stride toward them that almost knocked a chair over, then a quick stride that almost knocked himself over. In rhyme with Burger making a beeline for the two guys, our table stood up and began to usher him in the other direction. Lamar put a hand on his shoulder and Zane giggled but still managed to get out a “c’mon man.” Burger didn’t want to leave yet. “I’m just gonna talk, don’t worry I’m not. Hey! What did? Let go man, I’m fine I’m just going to have a word.” In the end, the wait staff explained to us that our friend needed to leave. Lamar tried to reason with the waitresses. “It’s fine, really, we got him. Sorry.” We were ushered out. . As the night went on Burger cooled down and returned to his laughing, buoyant self. We picked up some more beers and Red Bull from a convenience store and sat in the park drinking them on the swing sets and slides. As soon as we saddled in the park belonged to us. It was empty but for someone walking their dog, and they stood out on the periphery of the park and didn’t linger for the cold. It was us who stood under the light of the two streetlamps. “Hey, here’s a question.” said Burger, “How come all the best scenes on movies are always blurry?” he asked the room at large, but he was looking at James who’s a film buff. “What d’you mean?” “What?” “Like, which scenes?” Burger looked up and scratched his chin. “Not like any specific scenes, just I was thinking like, all the fight scenes and sex scenes and drug scenes, like the real dramatic stuff, like the climax and shit. They’re always blurry.” James gave a smile with upturned eyebrows. “And you think those are the best scenes in movies?” He asked. “No, you’re right. You’re right” “Cause it’s not even true about most of those things in film “ “You’re right! You’re right! It wasn’t even.” We all chuckled. We sat in the park for a long time. Longer than we thought we would, or maybe just longer than we ever had before. The group asked me the time, and I was just checking my watch when we heard the rusty gate of the park squeal open. Looking over we all saw another large group of guys, or group of large guys, or both. I couldn’t tell how many they were but they were talking low and were wasting no time making their way to us and the slides. We all sat up a little straighter. “Hey you.” Whoever spoke did it before he stepped under the streetlight. They got to us and stood in a semi-circle around. They were older guys, townies, with jean jackets all. They kept walking in, and I could see that their gaunt faces were jagged but not creased. “I thought you might have had something to say.” I recognized the group immediately belonging to the two men from the bar. I didn’t see them standing there but I couldn’t see all of the people that well either. Burger, like the rest of us, seemed taken aback from all of this. It felt like a lot of time between the scene at the bar and now, and none of us had thought much of the two guys since. “Nothing?” The guy who was talking was wiry and tall, he had a face like a shoe. He took another step closer to Burger and Zane. “Nothing to say? You had plenty to say before, nothing now? What’s the matter huh?” He was now face to face with Burger who said nothing. “You don’t fuck with us ok? I know you kids think this is all your shit, but nah. You don’t fuck with me.” The tall man reached into his back pocket. I felt very warm and then cold and realized I was sweating. “You see that? You don’t fuck with us. I could fuck you up. You better remember what’s what.” He leaned forward and waved a small knife in Burger’s face. “I could fuck you up.” Burger looked like snow in the fear and the glare of the streetlight. The tall man looked at Burger dead in the eye, then at Zane, then back to Burger, then back to Zane. His friends behind him were all standing and smirking, looking cold in the half-light. “Hmgh, What’s that?” The man’s tone had changed. “What is that?” It was not a rhetorical question. He had a different look on now, confused almost. The knife still in Burger’s face, the man took a step back and screwed up is eyes and nose. “Damn, you smell that? Jesus Christ.” He took another step back and pointed at Burger with his pocketknife. “Was that you?” “What?” Burger’s voice was cracked and dry. The man looked around and screwed up his face again. He looked over at Zane and paused, then looked around himself and at the soles of his shoes. Then back to Zane. “Was it you?” Zane didn’t look up. “Jesus fuck! God damn, fucking vile. Shit!” The tall man spun on his heel and back out past his friends and back into the dark outside the streetlights. Confused, but loyal, the rest of his crew followed him, only stopping to sniff the air and look over at Zane and Burger. I sniffed too, but couldn’t smell anything. None of us said a word for a few minutes. Zane sat there and stared at his shoes, so did Burger. We couldn’t quite think what to say. It felt wrong to go on laughing and joking, it felt wrong to talk about anything. The sounds of the night were all much louder as we sat in silence under the streetlight. Leaves rustled and distant cars rolled, and the cool hiss of unseen night bugs. After a few minutes Lamar asked if anybody would come with him to see if they could buy Zane a pair of pants and left with two guys. I sat on the playground next to James and felt my back sweating, not able to think about anything, just staring at the street outside the park. “Fuckin hell.” Burger finally broke the silence. We waited to see what else he had to say, but that was it. More minutes passed and we still couldn’t think of anything. Lamar finally got back and told Zane that they couldn’t find him any pants, but got him some toilet paper and a garbage bag from the convenience store. Zane took a bow-legged walk to the far corner of the park and came back wearing the bag, his bare legs poking through holes in the bottom. We walked back in silence. Avoiding Sackville street and keeping Zane in the middle of us. We trouped back past some freshmen, arms full of Doritos and notebooks. We said nothing to them. We got back to campus at 2:00 am. Burger and Lamar said goodnight to everyone as we all split up in twos and threes by dorm. I got all the way across the grassy part of the courtyard and found a sudden urge to catch Zane one more time. Maybe it occurred to me that this would be funny one day, maybe I just wanted to make sure he was ok. I turned and saw him across the field walking back with Burger and Lamar. Burger, wide, was unmistakably in the middle of them. I watched as they got smaller and further away. As I was about to turn away, I saw Burger turn to one of them and whisper something in his ear. Then all three burst out laughing and shoving each other. I watched them go until they disappeared around the corner of their dorm, but they were still audible when I turned my back.