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Wild Rosegarten, Chapter 13: Part 1

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“That was really unwise,” Leslie scolded as I vomited into the toilet again.

“Lesson,” I retched, “uh, learned.”

When my stomach was empty, I slid onto the floor, laid my face against the cool tiles, and closed my eyes. My heart hammered, and my chest felt like there was a brick on it. My body twitched as the adrenaline edge burned off. Behind it was exhaustion. The muscle men hadn’t fired on me, and as I regained the ability to form coherent thoughts, I wondered if they were on my side.

“Who are they?” my voice cracked.

“Jay and Santiago.”

“You know them.” I kept my eyes closed and willed my heart down from my throat. My hands shook, and my mouth tasted sour.

“They share the room next to the twins, but they’ve been out since you arrived. I called them. Imagine my surprise when I came up and found you gone.” He didn’t sound surprised at all. He sounded royally pissed.

Slowly, I sat up and leaned against the wall. My ears rang, and I felt green. “I left a note.”

“Yes, I saw it. Lot of good it would do if someone other than my people had found you.”

“They didn’t catch me, and why did they keep chasing me?” I looked up at Leslie.

His expression was angry, but his eyes showed fear. “I wanted them to scare you.”

“Well, they did.” I closed my eyes again.

“Leslie!” The panic was clear in my father’s voice. “Did they find her?”

“In here.” Leslie squatted beside me and brushed the sweat-matted hair back from my face.

“Where the hell did you go?” my father demanded.

I opened my eyes to see him bracing his arms against the doorway. His face had the same look as Leslie’s. “I went for a run. This place was beginning to feel like a prison. I needed air, exercise.”

Wounded and insulted, Leslie said, “My house is a prison? You feel like a prisoner here?”

“That’s not what I mean.” I waved my hand at him. “No disrespect, but I’m not used to staying in all the time.”

“All the time? You were in for one and a half, two days.” Leslie stood and paced toward my father and back.

“Maybe it was the letters,” I mumbled, but there was no maybe about it. My reaction was a direct result of the letters and the feeling that it was time to hit the road again. Something that ingrained was hard to ignore.

“What letters?” Leslie asked. He stood in front of me, looking down at the top of my head.

I didn’t have the energy or interest to look up at him. This whole conversation was tiresome. “The ones I found in my journal.”

As soon as I said it, I was sorry. Leslie blew past my father. So much for my one private possession.

Dislodged from his place in the door, my father walked over to me. “Honey, you know you shouldn’t go off alone. It’s not smart.”

“Yeah, Dad. Leslie already gave me the lecture.”

“Okay, well, how about instead, you explain to me how your broken hand is perfectly fine.”

I put my head in my hands and scrubbed my eyes. I didn’t feel like doing that now or ever. It would just lead to another lecture, more yelling, more anger. I was so tired of everyone being angry and disrupted. It was hard not to blame the vampires.

“Ask Justin. I’m going to be sick again. Would you please leave and close the door?”

I rolled onto my knees and shut my eyes. After a count to ten, I heard the bathroom door slam. I wasn’t going to be sick, but it was a good way to get rid of my father. I needed to think, to plan.

I stripped off my sweaty clothes and, for the second time in three or so hours, climbed into the shower. I had gone from a bath every two or three days to two or three baths a day. I got as far as soaping up my arms before I realized I had no clean clothes with me.

When the yelling started, I tried to ignore it. From the sound of it, Leslie, my parents, and Justin were having it out. There would be hell to pay. Since there would, I stayed under the spray even after everything was scrubbed.

I wondered if I should just run, make up a new name and history for myself. Surely being alone would be easier than dealing with all these annoying, arguing people. Still, I loved these annoying, arguing people.

Another option was going to Aster. If accepted into the household, I had no doubt I could put an end to Benoit. I just wasn’t sure what else I would have to endure, or if I could endure it, in order to achieve that goal.

Justin came into the bathroom and yanked open the shower door. “Get out. Dry off,” he ordered. “I’ll bring you some clothes.”

“And just who do you think you are telling me what to do?” I snapped.

Instead of answering, he grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the tub. I stood on the bath mat, dripping, as Justin grabbed a towel off the rack and began rubbing me dry.

“Get off, Justin.” I pushed him back from me.

“You should shut your mouth and do what you’re told.”

The right cross I threw caught his left cheek with a gruesome squishing sound. I hadn’t hit him hard enough to knock teeth loose, but he would have a bruise to match the one on his other cheek.

“How dare you?” I shouted at him. “You think you can order me around?”

The fury leapt into his face so quickly that I took a step back from him. He snatched my wrists in his hands. “I should break both of them.”

Instead of breaking my wrists, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. All his anger, his frustration, his inability to change my will poured into the kiss. His hands skimmed up and down my damp body.

I heard the pain in his voice when he said, “I want to stop loving you, but I can’t.”

His hand traveled down my body until his fingers glanced over the very fresh, very real bite marks. His fingers probed a little more gently, as if to prove that they were really feeling what he thought they were. In that instant, his passion dissipated, and he released me.

“He bit you,” Justin accused. “Didn’t waste any time, did he?”

“I’m sure it’s not your business. Despite what you think you don’t have exclusive rights t my body.”

He stared at me for a moment and then said, “I’m going to get your clothes now.”

I stood in the bathroom and shivered. Out in the main room, it sounded as though a few more people had joined in the arguing. When Justin returned, he stuffed a stack of clothes into my arms. He stood watch as I dressed, and when I had finished, he took me by my upper arm and hauled me out of the bathroom. I struggled against him, but Justin was a lot stronger and heavier than I was.

As we exited the bathroom, the arguing stopped, and everyone turned to look at me. The muscle men, Jay and Santiago, were at the bar and each having a glass of water. Both nodded at me in welcome.

When we reached my parents, Justin said, “Let’s go.”

His brows pinched together angrily, Leslie asked, “Where do you think you’re taking her?”

“We’re leaving Florida, and she’s coming with us.”

Leslie’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I think not.”

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing.” Justin glared at him. “Maybe you’re really bored and looking for some excitement. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I know I said I wanted in on this, to help with this, but not at the expense of these people.” He stood in front of my parents and pulled me behind him.

“Justin, don’t get bent out of shape,” I said.

He whirled on me and poked his finger into my chest. “And what’s gotten into you? Oh right, I know what’s gotten into you. We all know.” My cheeks grew hot. I had never embarrassed this easily before we lived with vampires. “You’re two nips and two sips away from becoming one of them. Are you fucking him, too?”

“What if I am? It’s my body and my life,” I shouted at him.

“And what are you going to do with your life? Huh? Are you going to go live with your crazy vampire sister? Misery loves company.”

If looks could kill, the one I gave him would do the job.

“That’s enough Justin,” my mother said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Justin began, “but I know Camellia’s been giving it serious thought.”

“What do you mean?” Leslie asked.

“You think you know her? You know nothing.” Justin looked at me longingly. “I know her. I know how she thinks.” He gave me a mirthless half-smile. “So much like your father. The instant you read that letter, you started thinking of ways to get your parents out of here so they would be hidden and safe. You’ve been wondering if you should go to Aster, like a diversion.” Justin waved his free hand out to the side. “Like, ‘Look over here vampires.’ Then, we sneak off, and you’re dead, hopefully taking down Aster with you. How far off am I?”

“Not very,” I mumbled.

My mother gasped, and my father cursed. I had other ideas in the works, but there was no need to bring them up right now.

“Right, so we’re leaving Florida today.” Justin turned away from Leslie, pulling me wit  him, and my parents turned to follow us.

Leslie suddenly appeared in front of Justin. “You can leave any time you want, but you won’t take Camellia with you.”

“I thought you were all about free will, Wells,” Justin spat at him. “So, is she free or not?”

“Of course she is free to do what she wants, no matter how stupid or dangerous I think it is.”

“So, she can go.”

Justin started to brush past Leslie, and Leslie caught his arm. I thought we looked like a game I had as a child. Try to hook several monkeys by their arms and drop them in a barrel. Look, I got three!

“If that’s what she wants,” Leslie clarified, “even though it’s not what I want.”

“And what do you want?” my father asked, stepping forward into our awkward group. “Let’s be perfectly clear for once.”

“I want to destroy Benoit. I want your family to have peace as far as Aster is concerned, whatever that may mean.” Leslie looked at my father sympathetically. “I want to use my power and position to release humanity from bondage and punish those who would deny you your right to be free.”

“And why is Camellia so important to all this?” Justin barked. “I’ve never understood that.”

“Because I’m Camellia,” I said simply.

“What the hell does that mean?” Justin asked looking even more irritated.

“It means I’m staying.” Though it pained me, I pried my hand free of Justin’s. “Leslie needs me more.”

Finally, I began to understand what he meant. He needed my mind, my abilities. He needed a free human with experience, one with a strong desire to see things through. He needed my leadership and maybe even my celebrity. Now, he needed my friendship.

“This movement needs me, but you,” I looked at my parents and Justin, “should go. You’re my family, and I love you. I want you safe. I want you to consider that you could live out the rest of your lives in safety and comfort. You deserve it, and if I knew that you were, I wouldn’t constantly be worrying over you.”

“You should worry more about yourself,” Justin chastised. “You’re going to end up getting yourself killed, or worse, become one of them.” Leslie’s jaw tensed at the insult.

Selene, her voice heavy, asked, “Is that how you feel about me?” Justin turned to the direction of her voice. We couldn’t see her. “Am I just a monster to you?”

“Selene—”

“You’re breaking my heart, you thoughtless boy.”

She zipped past us, pausing long enough to brush a kiss over Justin’s cheek. Just as quickly, she vanished. I heard a door in the basement bang shut.

“Idiot.” I elbowed him hard in the ribs. “She loves you. She may be a vampire, but she has feelings.”

Justin looked utterly confused, and new grief marred my parents’ faces. I took one of each of their hands and drew them to the side.

“Do this for me,” I begged of them. “Leave Florida.”

“We’re not leaving you,” my father insisted.

“Please.” I pinched my eyes closed and clenched my fists. “I’ll be fine. When this is over, I can come visit you.”

“You’re all we have left,” my mother said.

“I know. I love you both so much.” I hugged and kissed them. “You are good parents, the best. You kept me alive and free until I was twenty-four years old. In this time, who else can say that? Now, it’s my turn to keep me alive.”

For the next half hour, my parents tried to convince me to come with them, and I tried to make them see why I couldn’t. They were getting too old for this—the constant moving and fighting. They were worn out, and they deserved some peace and safety. I wanted that for them so badly, and I told them so. They needed to go just as much as I needed to stay. I wanted to be part of what Leslie was doing. I could help, and it would be easier for me if I knew they were safe and happy.

Finally, after a lot of words, tears, and hugs, they agreed. Leslie offered to arrange for them to live in one of his other homes or in any free state. He assured them that they  would be safe. When Leslie offered his outstretched hand, my father took it.

With a stricken look on his face, he said, “We appreciate your hospitality and your thoughtfulness of our well-being.”

“Let me make a few calls.”

When he started toward the kitchen, my father stopped him. “You better take good care of my daughter, Wells. She is the most precious thing we have.” His words touched me. I’d never heard him speak of me so.

“I couldn’t agree more, and you have my word.” Leslie nodded and continued into the kitchen.

When he was out of sight, I walked back over to Justin. I held his hand. I hated that things were ending this way between us. We had shared five years of our lives.

“You are my closest friend, Justin, so please don’t hate me. If you love me, please go with my parents. Keep them safe for me.”

Justin looked at my parents. “I promised Harold I would stay with you, and I don’t break my promises.” Relief washed over my father’s face. Very gently, Justin pulled me into his arms and hugged me. “You are my best friend, and I’m not going anywhere without you, no matter how hard you push me away. Do you hear me?” He squeezed me tighter before he pulled back to look me in the eyes. His hands came up to cup my face, and he kissed me just as gently.

“Why, Justin? You know you’re only going to hurt yourself more.”

I felt helpless. I didn’t want him to continue to torture himself over me. I had tried everything I could think of to push him away, and yet, he was still there whether I thought I needed him or not.

He shrugged. “Like I said, it’s my problem.”

Over his shoulder, I saw Leslie standing against the end of the only interior wall of the kitchen. A piece of the chair railing crumbled where his hand dug into it, but his calm veneer slid over his face before he rejoined us. Sensing him, Justin released me.

“A car will be here shortly,” he informed my parents. “Pack what you wish, but know that you’ll be provided for regardless. I have houses all over the southeast. Just tell the driver where you want to go. You’ll be welcomed.”

Always polite, always gracious, I thought as I sat on Leslie’s oversized sofa and waited with my parents for the car. My mother cried again, and I felt terrible knowing I was the cause. She and my father had shed enough tears for two or three lifetimes. I wanted them to be with me, but I knew that staying with me put them at a greater risk for injury or death. They needed to go.

Leslie was giving them real freedom. After twenty years of fighting to survive, they deserved some enjoyment and a true retirement. Now that they had a real chance of living free and without fear, they had to take it. I would stay behind and fight to ensure that.

After twenty minutes of hugs, promises, and I-love-you’s, the car arrived, and I saw my parents to it. Instead of feeling like good-bye, it felt more as if I was shoving them out the door. When I went back inside and closed the front door, a door inside me slammed shut.

I wondered if sending my parents away made me a bad child. It didn’t matter; I needed them to go. They would be safe and far enough away from me so that no one could use them to weaken or harm me. Reasoning that way, I made myself feel better about what I was doing.

END CH13 P1

Basket Case

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From the storage space under the basement stairs, I took out my mother’s wooden picnic basket. I opened the lid, with its grinning sun. I removed the plastic utensils and plates. I spread the checked napkins on the bottom. On them, I laid

  • a ceramic chicken
  • a plastic mouse in a vest
  • a triceratops sticker
  • a drawing of a snake-clad woman

I closed the lid and took the basket with me.

I kept the basket safe for years, never opening the lid until one day, you needed me to open it. I took out these precious talismans, hoping somehow they could help me help you. I released the pieces of my heart they held and tried to bandage your wounds.

Too strong. Not strong enough? Spoiled? For whatever reason, it doesn’t quite work. I don’t have something you need.

Sexy Stuff: Lavender

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In the bathroom of the restaurant, she went to the row of sinks to wash her hands.  She pressed the pump on the dispenser, and as she scrubbed her hands, the scent of the soap drifted up to her.  Lavender.  The fragrance was so similar to the body wash she used the last time they made love.  As the warm water ran over her sudsy hands, her eyes glazed.  She no longer saw the reflection of her hands or the faucet.

When he entered the kitchen, he stopped at the table.  Overnight, the lavender had dried on the paper towels.  Along with rosemary, mint, and basil, a friend had given him the lavender.  He didn’t know why he accepted it.  No, that wasn’t exactly true.  He picked up a sprig and after crushing it between his thumb and forefinger, he rolled the dried flowers, leaves, and stems, in his hands, fully releasing their aroma.  He dipped his nose into his cupped hands and inhaled.  Closing his eyes, he remembered her.

***

She was in the shower.  With her right foot wedged between the thin rim of the tub and the wall, she used the poof to soap her upper thigh and knee.  She heard the curtain open, felt the cool outside air displace the cocoon of steam so that the temperature difference sent chillbumps all the way up her back and even to her scalp.

“You’re letting the cold air in,” she said, smiling to herself.  She knew that stating the obvious amused him.  She heard the curtain shift closed, heard him hum before his hands, his always-warm hands, glided up her back.  “I’m almost done,” she said.  “Then, the water’s all yours.”

His fingers, now wet, slid over her, into her.  With the simple stroke, she was ready, but he liked to take things slow.  He liked to savor her building pleasure, hear her, smell her, taste her.  Only when he did these things did he receive complete fulfillment.

He reached forward and cupped her breast, urging her to stand up straight.  Her back pressed against his chest, and the top of her head slid neatly under his chin.  He skimmed his fingers over the top of her thigh and all the way up and between her legs.  He watched as her arm shot out – the one holding the poof – and he smiled as she tried to steady herself with one soapy hand.  He nipped at her earlobe and trailed kisses down the side of her neck as his fingers danced in and out, back and forth, round and round in a rhythm just for her and with just enough pressure to bring her to a quick climax.  He would have liked to prolong the foreplay, repeatedly bringing her up and backing off, until she quivered all over and could hardly breathe.  It teased them both, and made him hard to the point of pain, but this afternoon, he wanted to take her while the water was still hot.

He cupped her breast, felt her heart thudding against her ribs along the side of his hand and up his pinky finger.  He squeezed gently and rubbed his thumb over her nipple.  Her head slipped to the side and rolled back against his shoulder, her mouth open as she panted.  He could feel her grip his finger when it slid inside her.  She tilted her hips and spread her legs as far apart as the width of the shower.  She bucked and jerked as she grew closer and closer.

When she made the sound, somewhere between a squeal and a sigh, he knew she hit the top, and he twisted to he could capture her mouth with his.  His finger still moved in quick circles over the small knot of nerves, and she tore her mouth free of his.

“Now.”  She gave the primal demand that loosed his inner animal.

She bent forward and, reaching back between her legs, found his cock.  With one simple tug, he came forward and slid home.  She moaned with it and, dropping the poof, planted her palms against the front of the shower.

She had given, and now, gripping her hips, he took.  She could hear him, sucking air between his teeth and letting out gasps as her butt slapped wetly against him.  When she felt the hair of his legs brush against the backs of her thighs, she arched her back and lifted her chin so he could go deeper and deeper.

Water poured over her face, making her soaked hair slick over her eyes.  She smiled, but when his fingers found her swollen clit again, she cried out and moaned until he found release.

Movement…slowing…stopping.  He pulled her back up to standing.  Still inside her, he kissed her neck, wiped her hair from her face, massaged her creased wrists.  As their breathing returned to normal, he wrapped his arms around her and held her until the water ran cold.

***

Her hands were red from the heat of the water.  She slapped off the faucet and, still in the fog of memory, moved over to the paper towel dispenser.  Lavender.  She half-smiled and left the restroom.

He lowered his hands and let the crushed blooms drop back onto the paper towel.  Then, he turned to the fridge to make breakfast.

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Even knowing you don’t, I can’t help but.

I covered my face – though no one but god was watching – and sobbed, the water of the shower washing my tears down the drain, wasted just like my feelings. I blew my nose in my palm and washed that down the drain, too. I slapped myself.

Snap out of it. Don’t spend yourself.

Well, I have to afford it. The grief shows me that I am not cold, isolated, or bitter.

I felt the imagined loss as if it was real, and I mourned it. I mourned you and the believed-death of beauty in potentia. I asked myself why? Because I do, and I can’t help but.

Apex

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He considered himself no different from cats or orcas – animals that enjoy toying with their prey before delivering it unto Death. Like them, he used only the weapons nature gave him, and he didn’t always eat what he killed. He considered most of it practice, a honing of skills and body.

He watched an episode of Blue Planet that showed a pod of killer whales stalking a blue whale and its pup, taunting the mother, nipping at the babe. When the pup was exhausted, they toyed with the mother until she could no longer defend her offspring.  The orcas circled and jabbed, like a pack of boxers, and when they finally separated mother and child, they killed the pup but ate only its cheek meat – the choicest cut, so to speak. After the orcas left, the mother whale swam around the pup for hours, nudging it.

The unspoken questions were obvious. Were the orcas evil? Did the blue whale love her pup? He knew such questions had no meaning in nature. He wondered where humans got off thinking they could be evil or just or loving. Just because they believed they had souls, because they thought themselves civilized with advanced language skills, they were somehow better and accountable to the notions of morality and decency. Ants were civilized, and they sure as hell didn’t have ethics. Mounds often went to war with one another. Yes, he knew it was bullshit.

When he killed, it was because it was in his nature because he was of nature and not bound by a fabricated sense of right and wrong. When he killed his own kind, it was no different than the male dolphin, orangutan, or lion that slaughtered his competitors’ offspring and mated with as many females as possible to increase the odds of leaving a significant genetic footprint amongst the species. What he did was normal, and those who said differently were kidding themselves.

Instantaneous Rate Of Change

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One of the best days of my life was the day you called me to come pick you up because you totaled your Camero.

You took me to the lot with you, and I told you it was stupid to buy it, that you should buy something sensible. You rarely ever took my advice. I remember looking at that car and thinking, I’m going to die in that thing. You always drove, and you always drove fast and sometimes drunk.

We took every curve too fast.

I watched you take out the T-tops, lay them in their special cases as if laying a newborn babe in a bassinet. You loved her so. You never touched me with such tenderness and care. Perhaps if I had been more expensive…

The heat was on full-blast, my hair whipped into the night air. I think I had fun the first time, until I realized that if we wrecked, I would lose my head.

It had to be CLEAN, and god forbid I tracked in dirt or got cigarette ash on the door panel.

You loved that car, and you drove it the night you left your dog in the woods. I cried, begged you to go get him. He was still sitting in the same place, his blanket made into a nest, his food covered with twigs and leaves. He knew you weren’t coming back, and when he saw you, he peed himself. I held him, shaking in my lap, on the trip back home. You gave him away a month later.

Two months later, your next dog vomited all over the back seat.

The month after that, you wrecked.

End of an Era

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My publisher went belly up. I have taken down links to purchasing my books until I figure out what, if anything, I will do with them. Gosh, things were just fine for me when the owner two owners back was in charge. She always did right by me. The second owner tried to do right by everyone, and that and some crooks that worked for him torpedoed the company. The last person in charge, I think, was just to try to save something of a shred. I had 5 books published under the first owner, and in the 4 or 5 years that owner #2 was in charge, only 1. The Camellia series has stopped dead at book 5 when there are 9 books. It’s highly likely that books 6 through 9 will never be published unless I figure out how to do that myself. That is even more unlikely.

Now, I’m wondering if I should change my pen name and move on…leave all the wretched mess of this company behind me. I wish I could say I was heartbroken, but nothing happened for me for so long, that it was not even remotely a shock to get the news. I’m just irritated for my readers. There aren’t many of you, but you are supportive and care about my stories. Thank you so much for that. It means everything.

Update

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Until very recently, I have not had much time to write. I had to re-read several of my books to get back into the feel and voice of some of the characters. Since I had that chance, I have now written about 8k words on the final book in the Camellia series.  Two of the major conflicts are resolved, and the end is nigh!

I know that, after this book, I won’t write anymore books with Camellia as the main character. However, I might write about someone else in her universe. Before that happens, I have another work that needs re-tooling. I think it’s good, but it could be better. My MC needs more people to play with regularly, and I need to make up my mind whether the MC will stay a he, or if I am in for a huge rewrite to make him a she. Great things can come from both rewrites. We shall see what time permits.

New Inkshares Project

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I’ve queried and pitched and pitched and queried. So, I’m trying something new.

I actually love this novel I’ve written, and I think you will too. Check out the summary and partial first chapter. If you like what you read, and you’d like to read more (and preferably the whole thing), please follow and pre-order. It can happen if I get enough support from those of you who like me and/or what I write. And, if it’s not your bag, baby, that’s cool too.

Here’s the link: SOUL SEARCHING

Thanks,

Beth

One Percent Other: The Duke of Hazards

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From the first time someone paid Brazen to jump off the roof of the elementary school, he knew he wanted to be a stunt man.  He had no sense of self-preservation.  Anyone who hung out with him could attest to it.

In a school that was 49% white, 50% black, and 1% other, Brazen was one of the few in the “other” category.  He was unusual to look at, having inherited his Iranian father’s skin tone and coarse black hair as well as his ginger mother’s summer blue eyes.  His mid-teen growth spurt left him with awkward long legs and arms.  When he wasn’t in school or up to no good, he was running, knees and elbows pumping, and a foot-long braided rattail flailing behind him.

Brazen loved to do stuff no one else would dare, and he would do almost anything for almost nothing.  His toady and his best friend watched him eat twenty cockroaches, the big kind, for fifty bucks.  Any given weekday, he could be found taking money from other kids in exchange for an exhibition better suited to a sideshow than lunchroom entertainment. He always gave his audience what they wanted, and he craved the attention, which made him perfect for Ms. Cornell’s drama class.

When he wasn’t running lines or painting sets, Brazen passed the time walking across the auditorium on his hands, trying to see how many folding chairs he could jump, or just sitting in a circle of mostly girls and telling stories of the many and varied ways he’d broken bones.

They sat rapt, and he told the story well, despite the inevitable cracks that come with a boy’s changing voice.  “So three summers ago, my mom was dropping me off at the skate park every morning, at like nine, before she took my sister to band camp.  G-Man’s dad has a pick-up, so he brought the ramp.  P-Dawg has a friggin’ six foot half-pipe at his house, but my mom won’t let me go over there anymore since we got caught smoking, so we were at the damned park everyday.”

“Brazen, don’t cuss at school,” Ms. Cornell called.

“Sorry,” he sang back and looked at Toady.   Dropping his voice, he said, “You know she’s pregnant?”  The kids in the circle turned to look as Ms. Cornell, a tight-bodied, smoking hot redhead, as she gave stage directions.  The other kids whispered that they heard she got knocked up by a twenty-two year old, and she would be thirty in a few months.  “Yeah, well, if it’s true, then she’s a MILF for sure.”

“Ew,” Rasia, a pretty, light-skinned black girl who Brazen hoped to get to second base with, said.  “Tell us about the skateboard.”

Brazen looked at her, cocked his head, and gave her his best pirate smile.  “If it pleases m’lady.”  He batted his eyelashes at her.  “Yeah, so we did tricks all day, and we got bored real quick, but it was like an hour before my mom was supposed to get me.  So, we set the ramp up near some cars in the parking lot, and I hung out by the red light.”  Brazen paused to let the suspense build.  “So, this guy in a truck drives by, and I grabbed his bumper, staying low so he wouldn’t see me in his mirrors.  When I got near the ramp, G-Man yelled at me to let go, and I like swerved over,” his hand shot out toward the girl next to him, “so I could hit the ramp.”

“Man, it was wicked,” Toady said.

Brazen grinned at him.  “I hit the ramp solid.”  The fingers of his right hand swooped across the palm of his left.  “I caught some serious air.  I even made it over the car, but when I landed, I shattered both tibias.  My fucking knee caps—”

“Brazen!”

“Sorry, sorry!”  Brazen bumped the edges of his palms against the middles of his shins.  “My knee caps were down here.  G-Man had his cell phone.  I thought my mom would kill me.”

Eyes wide with sympathy, Rasia said, “I can’t believe you can still walk.”

After soaking up as much attention as he could, Brazen ran through his lines, which he’d already memorized, and then counted down the seconds until the bell rang.  He visited his locker, and then visited Rasia’s locker where he was rewarded with a kiss for his heroic feat and recovery and a hand slap for trying to cop a feel.

When Brazen walked out the front doors of the building, he felt as though his day had been fairly productive.  Then, he saw Ms. Cornell cranking her car.  Tossing his books aside, he ran and leapt onto the hood just as she backed out of her spot.  When she realized she had a fourteen-year-old boy clinging to her car, she slammed on the brakes, which sent him slamming into her windshield.

“Get the fuck off my car you crazy child,” Ms. Cornell shouted through the glass.

Brazen just smiled.  “You shouldn’t cuss at school, Ms. Cornell.  Give me a ride home?”

Ms. Cornell rolled down her window.  “No.  Your mom is probably already here, so go on and get off.”

“Okay, I’ll get off,” he said as he scooted over to the driver’s side of the car and stuck one foot on the ground.  “I get off to you all the time.”

Ms. Cornell frowned.  “That is just,” she shook her head, “go on.”

After blowing her a kiss, Brazen did just that.  On his way to his mother’s van, he accepted a congratulatory high five from a boy two years older than him and decided that his day turned out far better than he could’ve hoped.