Page 11 of All Good People Here

Around her, the others turned to look.

“Hey,” Billy said once he’d reached their little group. He was a big guy, six feet probably, and muscle-bound from working his family’s farm, but as he stood there with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his Levi’s, Krissy thought he looked small and uncertain, almost childlike.

“I can’t believe you came,” she said, wide-eyed and grinning. “I can’t believe I am the siren who lured Billy Jacobs to slum it with the likes of us.”

Billy dipped his head, looking bashful and fighting a smile.

“Aw, Kris,” Martha said. “Look. You made him blush.”

“Marth,” Krissy snapped playfully. “Don’t make our guest feel unwelcome.” She turned back to Billy. “Here.” Holding her can of Natural Light in one hand, she used the other to tug a beer from its plastic ring in a half-empty six-pack, then handed it to Billy and looped an arm around his shoulders. “Everybody,” she said, turning to the circle. “You all know Billy Jacobs. Billy Jacobs, this is Martha”—she gestured to Martha with her beer—“Zoo, Noah, Caleb, and of course, this asshole is Dave.” Krissy knew Billy was already familiar with her friends—they’d all knowneach other their entire lives—but despite this, he was still little more than a stranger to them.

“Sorry,” Billy said, a little frown forming between his eyes. “Zoo?”

“Oh. We call Katy ‘Zoo’ because of her last name. Zook.”

“Oh. But Noah’s Noah?”

Krissy laughed. “We just do it when it fits. It’s a nickname, Billy, don’t overthink it. Anyway, what about you? What should we call you?”

Beside her, Dave squinted, making a show of studying Billy’s face. “I think Jacobs is a Jacobs, don’t you, Kris?” His eyes slid to hers. “Good work, by the way. You got the fucking king of Wakarusa to deface the field of Northlake High.”

Dave reached over to tousle Krissy’s hair, and she ducked away from his hand with a shriek, dropping the arm that had been around Billy’s neck. “Deface the field?” she said, giving Dave a look.

He grinned. “Surprise.”

Krissy rolled her eyes. “So clever.” But she said it teasingly. What did she care about this shithole school?

“So,” Caleb said, bending over to pull something out of a plastic bag. “I brought spray paint.”

“Nah,” Dave said. “Spray paint’s no good. It washes off too easy.” He reached down into another shopping bag by his feet and pulled out an industrial-sized plastic bottle. “Weed killer. That way they basically have to regrow the whole field.”

Martha clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, Dave, that’s fucking amazing.”

Beside her, Krissy noticed Billy push his hand deeper into his pocket.

“What’re you guys gonna write?” Martha asked.

Dave waggled his eyebrows. “We’re not gonna write anything. We’re gonna draw.”

“Cock and balls,” Caleb said helpfully.

Everybody laughed, and Krissy watched as Billy made himself laugh too. She had the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand, tell him everything was going to be all right.

“Dave,” Caleb said. “You wanna start?”

“And rob you guys of all the fun?” Dave grinned, extending the bottle of weed killer to Caleb, but then he paused, turned. Locking eyes with Billy, he said, “What d’ya think, Jacobs, you wanna do the honors?”

“Oh.” Billy laughed, clearly trying to play off his discomfort. “Nah, that’s okay. Thanks, though.”

Dave jerked his head back. “You sure? No pressure. You don’t wanna do it, you don’t wanna do it. But it is a good opportunity to give this place one last middle finger.”

Billy chuckled uncomfortably again, shaking his head. “I don’t think I hated it as much as you guys did.”

“Really?” Dave said. His tone was steady and inquisitive, almost thoughtful. “This place that takes everything unique about you and spins it to make you seem fundamentally fucked up?” He shook his head, laughing ruefully. “Jesus, my teachers thought I was a devil worshiper all sophomore year because I listened to Nirvana. Peoplestillcall Martha a slut because she had sex with Robby O’Neil two years ago—”

“Dave!” Martha snapped.

Dave gave her a look. “What? It’s fucking true.Idon’t think you’re a slut. You get to do whatever the hell you want to do. All I’m sayin’ is—this town puts a label on us the day we’re born. You remember the time Joseph Pinter called Kris ‘white trash’ when he found out her and her mom live in a trailer park? And Mr.Yacoubian was standing right there and didn’t say anything? He’s a teacher and he just let it happen because Joseph Pinter has a white picket fence and Kris doesn’t.”

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