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Miles likes to think of himself as an easygoing sort of guy. Everybody’s got his or her own way of going about things, and if that makes them happy, generally Miles isn’t one to say they’re doing it wrong, even if it’s not the way Miles would choose to do things. This, though? There’s nothing about the way Coach has handled this that isn’t flat out wrong, so wrong that it ought to be obvious to everybody, and every time he looks at Casey’s sad little face, the madder Miles gets about it.
Even Rick, dense as he is, seems to clue in to the general atmosphere of gloom and misery that’s hanging over Casey and Karofsky as they’re all loading up boxes and carrying pieces of furniture out of the Karofsky house and setting them into the back of Karofsky’s truck. Every time Rick catches Miles’ eye, Rick frowns and shakes his head like even he can’t believe how stupid the whole situation.
“This is shit, Foots,” Miles says to Rick as they’re sliding in a box of books. “Total and utter shit.”
"Nobody much seems happy about it, that's for sure," Rick answers. "I dunno, Brown. Maybe it makes more sense to Coach and Mr. Coach and Mr. Karofsky than it does to us."
"It doesn’t make one bit of sense," Miles answers, shaking his head. "Look at Cherry. What's he supposed to do now? They're gonna have to send Shep on home at some point tonight, then Cherry's all alone with those people."
"Coach is pretty great, though," Rick says. "Mr. Coach seems real nice, too, and Casey seems to like him okay. Maybe it's not gonna be all that bad for him, Brown. I mean, Karofsky's gonna be going away and Casey'd have been all alone then, anyhow."
"Karofsky's not gone yet, though. I figure Cherry's lost enough stuff already without them taking his last couple of weeks with Shep away, too," Miles says. "If you ask me, none of this has anything to do with Cherry or Shep. This is about guilty consciences over not noticing there was something going on with Cherry back months ago when things were actually bad."
Rick frowns again. "Man, I dunno how they were supposed to know that stuff. We didn't know that stuff and we saw him all the time. You even danced with him at that dance, Brown, remember? And you didn't say you thought something was going on with him."
"Well, hell, Foots," Miles sighs. He sits down on the end of Karofsky’s truck and shakes his head again. "You think I don't have a guilty conscience a little bit, too?"
"I dunno." Rick shrugs. "Alicia says she’s not so sure you have a conscience, but I think you probably do. Maybe a little one, but you probably got one."
“Thanks, Foots. Good to know you got faith in me.”
“You’re welcome, Brown,” Rick says. “I mean, you’re practically family and all.”
“Don’t push your luck, Foots.”
It’s the saddest damn caravan Miles has ever seen, and nobody says the reason Casey’s little yellow car is between Karofsky’s truck and Miles’ car is because they think he might just keep on driving otherwise, but Miles is pretty sure everybody’s thinking it, or ought to be, anyway. Miles had the brilliant idea to stick Rick in Casey’s car so he’d have some company that isn’t as pissed off as Karofsky looks and Miles feels. Also, it means Miles doesn’t have to listen to Rick talking on the drive over.
Karofsky backs his truck up into Coach’s driveway, and Casey and Miles both park on the street. Rick hops right out and hurries up to the truck, but Casey keeps sitting in the car with both his hands on the steering wheel. Miles walks over and taps on Casey’s window, bending over so he can actually see inside Casey’s car.
Casey startles slightly, then looks up at Miles before rolling down the window. “Hi.”
“You’d better make sure Rick doesn’t get your books confused for a doorstop or kitty litter,” Miles says, shaking his head. “Some people use shredded paper for their cats, you know.”
Now Casey looks alarmed, on top of looking miserable. “But they’re labeled ‘Books’, Miles. Do you really think he’d get them confused?”
“Now, Cherry, are you sure Foots can read that?” Miles grins and reaches in the open window to unlock the door, then opens the door for Casey. Casey sighs and stands up, giving Miles a pitiful, half-hearted little smile.
“Thanks, Miles,” Casey says softly.
“Just lookin’ out for those graphic novels of yours,” Miles answers. “Now, you give me the things that you can’t trust Foots with, right?”
“We should carry in the books first,” Casey says. “Just, um. Just in case Rick does get confused.”
“Maybe we should get Foots a kitten,” Miles muses. “Maybe he’d spend less time with my sister then.”
“Can you please not ever, ever, ever let Rick… you know. With Alicia?” Casey asks, while they’re pulling boxes of books from the back of the truck. “Or maybe you can have a talk with him and tell him, um. The whole gay thing? I don’t even want to hear about girl parts.”
Miles can’t help laughing, even though the thought of his baby sister doing anything with Daniel Rickenbacker is not a pleasant one. “I asked Ma if we could get Alicia a chastity belt, but she said they stopped making them when Paul Revere died. I don’t know what Paul Revere has to do with anything.”
“Midnight rides, maybe?” Casey says, then his face turns so red that it could ward off low-flying planes.
Miles is pretty sure he could come up with far more interesting midnight rides for Casey, but he doesn’t say that, just hoists the boxes and heads towards the door that Coach has propped open. “I’ll try the chastity belt idea on my dad, anyway. It’s a win-win, Cherry. You don’t have to listen to Foots, and I don’t have to think about it after that.”
Casey nods, his face still on the neon side of red, but now that they’re inside the house, he doesn’t seem to have anything to say. As they walk down the hall, they pass Rick and then Karofsky, and Karofsky and Casey exchange the Romeo and Juliet equivalent of eyefucking. If Romeo and Juliet had taken their poison and then stabbed themselves. Also, if Juliet became Julian or something, because Karofsky? Doesn’t need to ever wear a dress.
On the next trip inside, Coach stops all four of them. “Pizza’s on its way, boys,” she says, a little too happily given the occasion. “Should be plenty for everyone.”
Karofsky turns his omnipresent glower towards Coach and shrugs silently. Casey sort of folds in on himself, like he’d forgotten about Coach until she spoke to him directly, and now he’s trying to make himself disappear. “Guess we’d better keep working,” Miles says evenly, and it’s probably good he doesn’t sound near as pissed off as he feels, since Coach is in charge of his workouts in another two months.
“Hey, pizza, that’s great!” Rick chirps, like some kind of insensitive moron parakeet. “Everybody likes pizza.”
Miles turns to glare at him, and Karofsky does, too, so it seems like a good time to bring in furniture before Miles gets himself in trouble with his football coach and his baby sister. By the time all of it’s inside, the pizza is sitting on Coach’s kitchen counter next to a stack of paper plates, and Coach puts a paper plate in each of their hands before putting a single slice on a plate for her husband.
They walk to Casey’s new room and sit on the floor, plates in front of them, except for Casey, who managed to put his plate back into the stack of empty ones or something. He’s curled in on himself again, sitting close to Karofsky, and if the caravan was the saddest one ever, this is the saddest pizza party ever, too.
“It’s pretty roomy in here, don’t you think, Casey?” Rick says through a mouthful of pizza.
“Shut up, Rick,” Karofsky says flatly, taking a bite of his slice of pizza as if it had personally offended him.
Rick’s face sort of crumples up and he grumbles, “I was just trying to be positive, is all.”
Miles knows that there’s nothing positive about this situation, though, not at all, and he shakes his head slowly. “You’re no miracle worker, Foots.”
“Yeah,” Rick sighs. “I know. Sorry.”
Karofsky silently pulls a pepperoni from his slice and holds it in Casey’s direction, almost tentatively. Casey takes it and nibbles on it, and that pepperoni is the sum total of that boy’s dinner, Miles is pretty sure.
When everyone except Casey has finished eating, Karofsky digs in his pocket and then hands Casey a pack of Twizzlers. They all stand up, and Miles sighs a little to himself.
“Well, Cherry, I guess you need this bed put together.”
Casey shrugs and looks over at Karofsky, who shakes his head. “We’ve got it,” he says in the same flat tone, though there’s definitely no room for argument there.
Miles looks over at Rick and shrugs a little. Rick makes some kind of weird face that doesn’t seem to have any meaning, but probably does to Rick, anyway. “Well, then I guess Foots and I’ll get out of here. Want us to let the air out of Coach’s tires as we leave?”
Normally, Casey’d be all giggles at that, because Miles is funny and knows how to make Casey laugh, but instead, all he gets out of Casey is the same pitiful little smile. Rick offers Casey his fist to bump, and Casey does at least touch his knuckles to Rick’s. Rick doesn’t even bother trying with Karofsky, which is good, since it would have been a waste of his time and probably just pissed Karofsky off even more than he already is.
Miles stretches his arm towards Casey, because Casey needs a hug, even if he doesn’t realize that he does. Casey leans against Miles for a second and then puts his arms around Miles and squeezes a little too tight, and from the look on Karofsky’s face, maybe a little too long. Karofsky maybe ought to watch himself and not begrudge Casey the comfort, in Miles’ mind, because if there’s one thing Casey needs more than a hug, it’s whatever makes him feel better, even for just a few moments.
“Damn fools,” Miles says as he and Rick drive away from Coach’s house. “All the adults, damn fools, Foots.”
“Maybe…” Rick begins, then shakes his head. “I dunno, Brown. I mean, even destupided, I know I’m not the smartest guy, but I keep feeling like there’s something that Coach and Mr. Coach and them are missing. Not sure what, though.”
“Doing this isn’t going to help them find it.” Miles shakes his head as well. “They should be able to look at Cherry and see how miserable this is making him.”
“They’ve gotta know what they’re doing, though, right?” Rick asks. “I mean, ’cause of all that stuff from before. They’d make sure they were doing the right thing. Coach’ll make sure she’s doing all that stuff Karofsky was doing, so all Casey’s stuff gets looked after. Right?”
“You sure do have a lot of faith in people, Foots. Didn’t anyone ever steal your candy at the Easter egg hunt or anything?”
Rick makes some sort of noise that might be a scoff if it came out of anybody else. “Shoot, Brown. I’ve gotta have faith in people. Everybody thought I was all screwed up, but I turned out sorta mostly alright. Besides, I mean, they’re gonna take care of stuff because nobody wants bad stuff to happen to Casey, and Coach is real smart, and she’ll know what to do.”
“And at what price to Cherry?” Miles does in fact scoff. “How many times are they gonna make that kid move in six months, Foots? Hell, the year’s nowhere near over yet.” Miles shakes his head darkly. “They’re trying, but this has ‘bad idea’ painted all over it.”
“But he’s already had all the bad stuff happen to him. There can’t be much of anything left to happen,” Rick says.
That seems like the kind of thing that’s tempting fate, and Miles doesn’t like it. “Well,” he finally says. “Just because bad stuff’s happened doesn’t mean they’ve figured out a way for Cherry to be happy, Foots.”
“Maybe happy just takes a little longer for some people, Brown. I think he’s gonna get there.” Rick sounds awfully sure of himself for a guy whose girlfriend is getting a chastity belt for her next birthday.