Last Stop This Town by David Steinberg Read Free Book Online

pancakes.”
    Walker was now officially depressed.
    “And you,” Dylan turned to Noah. “Will you stop crying? You did what you had to do.”
    “I don’t know,” Noah tried to convince himself. “We didn’t officially break up or anything.”
    Not known for his tact, Pike blurted out, “I bet she delists you on Facebook.”
    Noah knew he was right. It was over.
    Dylan tried to cheer him up. “You’re eighteen. What were you going to do, get married? This isn’t West Virginia.”
    “I know. But still.” Noah looked up. “We love each other.”
    “And you’ve been fighting for months,” Dylan reminded him. “I’m just looking out for you, man. Once you’ve been with other girls—”
    Noah leapt on that statement. “What does that matter? Sarah and I have had sex almost ninety times.” No one thought it was weird that Noah had apparently been counting.
    “Variety,” Pike explained, his mouth full of pancakes.
    “Exactly,” Dylan seconded. “Other girls will give you perspective.”
    Walker piped up, taking Noah’s side in this debate. “Don’t listen to them. I’d love to be with a girl like Sarah.”
    “You’d love to be with a girl who’s alive,” Dylan shot back.
    “And has two legs,” Pike added.
    Dylan considered. “I don’t think that matters to Walker.” He turned to him thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t nail a hot chick with one leg?”
    Walker gave them both a ha ha fake smile, but Dylan wasn’t done giving him shit. “I mean, after you make her a lasagna, of course.”
    “Shut up,” Walker said. He threw a tub of grape jelly at Dylan and the four of them broke out laughing.
    It was small moments like this—the four best friends eating gristle at two a.m., playfully ribbing each other, and sharing a laugh—that they’d remember forever. And for Dylan, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

    Before crashing for the night, Noah checked Sarah’s Facebook profile. Under “News Feed” it said, “Sarah is now single,” complete with the broken heart icon. Dejected, Noah clicked off his iPhone and just sat there, staring into the darkness.
    Walker was on Facebook as well, but Walker was masturbating to the profile picture of Patience, the girl from the party.
    When Pike got home and did his bedtime e-ritual, he opened a message from Marco with the subject, “Couch,” and his eyes went wide.
    After dropping off the guys, Dylan pulled the Cube into his driveway and parked next to a pick-up truck emblazoned with “Glasco Paving.” Inside, Dylan found his dad asleep on the couch with ESPN on. Dylan turned off the TV and covered his dad with a blanket before heading into his bedroom.
    Dylan didn’t hate his dad. He had just learned to live without him. But that didn’t mean his dad knew how to live without Dylan. The poor bastard didn’t know how to cook. Hell, he barely knew how to use the DVR. Dylan wondered what his dad was going to do when Dylan left.
    Dylan brushed his teeth and changed for bed. But for some reason he wasn’t tired. He was deep in thought. Then, an idea struck him. He pulled out his phone and started a text message.

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    B Y FIFTH PERIOD Monday, Dylan was in the cafeteria with his friends, still busy texting. The others didn’t seem to care what Dylan was up to—they were focused on their pepperoni pizzas and discussing plans for Beach Weekend.
    “So I emailed Patience,” Walker began. “She didn’t write back.”
    Noah broke the news, “Dude, that ship has sailed.”
    “Why don’t you just fuck Natalie?” Pike suggested, just trying to be helpful.
    “Natalie’s my cousin,” Walker replied, with the asshole left implied.
    Pike was undeterred. “Or that weird girl.” Sure enough, a weird-looking girl sat alone eating edamame. She had a nice body, and a cute face under her heavy makeup and eyeliner, but she always sat by herself and dressed in flannel as if Nirvana were still awesome.
    Still, even for Walker it was a