BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (97)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. 1.
  6. 2.
  7. 3.
  8. 4.
  9. 5.
  10. 6.
  11. 7.
  12. 8.
  13. 9.
  14. 10.
  15. 11.
  16. 12.
  17. 13.
  18. 14.
  19. 15.
  20. 16.
  21. 17.
  22. 18.
  23. 19.
  24. SIX MONTHS LATER
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
  34. 29.
  35. 30.
  36. 31.
  37. 32.
  38. 33.
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  40. 35.
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  44. 39.
  45. 40.
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  80. 75.
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  82. 77.
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  84. 79.
  85. 80.
  86. 81.
  87. 82.
  88. 83.
  89. 84.
  90. 85.
  91. 86.
  92. 87.
  93. SIX MORE MONTHS LATER
  94. 88.
  95. 89.
  96. Discover More
  97. About the Author

He’s pissed at himself. But he’s more pissed at this kid. Why couldn’t the kid notice it a minute or two sooner? Catch up to him before he got in the subway? A kid who saw Joey enter his code—his dumbass code. He knows how dumbass it is but what can he do? Couldn’t the kid see it was the wrong phone just a little sooner? Or did the kid not come running out on purpose? He saw Joey enter the code, right? So did he wait a few minutes just so he could look around in Joey’s phone? Have a little fun. Not knowing what kind of “fun” he would discover.

If the kid hadn’t seen the code, that would have been a lot better, of course. Just a useless piece of hardware. Tossed into a landfill somewhere. The phone would be forever dead. Instead of it now having to make more people dead.

And even though Joey’s pissed—pissed at and focused on this kid—he also knows the deeper reality of the problem. And the deeper reality is that he’s a fuckup. He’s always been a fuckup. Whenever he has everything going right, running smoothly, that’s when he throws something in to fuck it up. That’s the pattern he’s noticed about himself. How he always undercuts himself at the worst moment. Something in him wants to fuck it up. Likes to fuck it up. Something in him, some weird, dumb, fuckup part of him, didn’t turn his phone away from some kid sitting right next to him, just a second or two sooner, when he entered his code.

As he rides the subway back to the GreenGirl, Joey starts to cruise around the kid’s cell phone. It’s exactly what he knew he would find from the kid’s happy, upbeat voice. He didn’t even need to look in the phone to know. Lots of photos of friends. Fun parties. There’s the kid in these selfies, obviously. Big smile. Curly red hair. Zack, he said his name was, Zack something or other. Good-looking. Surrounded by people. Look at all these text conversations. Let’s meet here. Let’s meet there. Not a care in the world. Until now, thinks Joey. Until now.

Let’s see, got a girlfriend? That’s got to be her, right there, in the most recent photos. Pretty cute. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that. Maybe I might get me a piece of that.

And this kid here. This little runt. Lots of pictures of him too. Must be a best friend.

Joey doesn’t have a best friend. Or a worst friend. Or any friend, really.

Joey feels the rage rise in him again, boiling up, just glimpsing this kid’s life. Zack. Looks like everyone loves Zack.