by Mel Bossa
He’s been watching it every day ever since he was grounded.
“Hey, Boone—”
“Shh,” he hissed, “they’re kissing.”
I watched the screen. I’ve seen that scene before. It’s gross. Their tongues keep slipping in and out of their mouths like slimy snakes. It makes me cringe. “I’m go-gonna go read a co-comic in your bedroom.”
Boone only nodded. His eyes didn’t leave that TV.
When I passed Nick’s room, my heart jumped up inside my throat.
The door was ajar.
He wasn’t home.
I had to see his things.
I pushed on the door.
My eyes swarmed around like bees over a strawberry patch.
I was terrified Nick would show up and tap me on the shoulder. “Hey pervert,” he would say, “what you doing?”
I took a shy step inside.
I could smell him. I could smell his clothes and sheets.
Nick smells like suntan lotion and Ivory soap.
I looked at the walls first. They were plastered with posters. One got my attention. It was the picture of some guy with hair like a spider and white makeup on. His name is Robert Smith. Beside it was a picture of a skeleton face, and the caption read: “Didn’t hurt that much.” In the corner, there was a brown guitar. It leaned on a dresser whose drawers overflowed with clothes. Nick’s blue sweater hung over the edge of the second one. On top of the dresser were a whole bunch of things. Some papers with music on them, some drawings he made, rubber bands, a statue of Rocky, some magazines, and some used Kleenex. On the floor, there was even more stuff. Clothes, socks, more magazines, empty containers of yogurt and Jello, some cracker crumbs and a pair of black boxers.
I never knew Nick was so messy. Even his bed was undone. There was a bag of chips on his pillow.
He’s going to need a maid when he’s older.
For sure.
Of all the things I saw in his bedroom, one thing stuck out the most: on his bed stand, right beside his Halloween mask, there was a large, hardcover book. I walked over to take a closer look at it. It was least six hundred pages.
If Nick is dyslexic, then I wonder how long it took him to read it.
What kind of book would be worth all that time and energy?
I picked it up and read the title. Professional Cooking: Learn the tricks of the trade, from classical French cuisine to the newest trends.
A recipe book? Why is Nick reading this? It can’t be for school.
Just as I was passing out of his room, Mrs. Lund called out. “A table! Et on se grouille!”
Mrs. Lund insists on speaking French to the kids. I understand most of it, but can’t put two words together without sounding mentally challenged. Nick speaks French fluently, as does Lene.
Boone, not so much. “I don’t plan on dating no French girls anyway.”
Upstairs, Johan set the table while Mrs. Lund poured the soup into the bowls. They were square bowls. I had never seen bowls like that. “Hands cleaned?” she asked.
They weren’t.
Boone and I went to the bathroom, followed by Lene and her doll. She made us wait while she meticulously scrubbed the doll’s fingers. “Our baby has to be squeaky clean, don’t you think?”
Boone barked a laugh. “You’re so nuts, squirrels wanna crawl up your ear.”
The smell of Mrs. Lund’s cooking had begun to make me hungry, and since I hadn’t seen Nick around, I figured I would be okay. I felt my muscles relax and I pulled out my designated chair, and then sat down. “It smells nuh-nice, Mrs. Lund.”
“Why, thank you, Derek.” She turned to Boone and slapped his shoulder. “See? See how polite he is? He has manners.”
Boone shot me a murderous stare and picked up his spoon. “That’s ’cause he’s a suckup,” he said with a grin.
Johan chuckled a little, and we all dove right in. The soup tasted like fall, but without the cold. It was purple and really thin, but filling. I was enjoying it.
Then, just like that, Nick walked into the kitchen.
Like magic.
I hadn’t even heard the front door. He appeared right out of nowhere. And at the wrong time too. I had just put a piece of bread in my mouth. Now it was stuck there, because I couldn’t swallow it. I knew I would choke to death if I tried.
“Where have you been?” Mrs. Lund asked.
Nick tucked a loose strand of his ash blond hair behind his ear and shrugged. “Dave’s.”
Since that fight, David and Nick have been hanging out again. Boone says they see each other all the time.
“We’ve already started supper, and you know the rule.”
The rule is, if someone shows up after the first bite has been eaten, that person has to wait until the meal is done, and then have whatever is left over when the table has been cleared.
“Helga, let him eat. We have a guest.” Johan gestured for Nick to sit down.
Mrs. Lund didn’t seem pleased at all, but she didn’t say anything.
Nick went to the sink to rinse his hands, and pulled out the only available chair at the table.
The one directly facing me.
My chest tightened as that piece of bread began to slowly disintegrate inside my mouth.
I finally swallowed it.
Nick poured himself two ladles of the soup and then started eating as if he hadn’t eaten since last Christmas.
No one was talking anymore. If it weren’t for the radio, we could have heard each other breathing.
Lene, who was sitting to Nick’s left, tugged on his shirt. “Will you help me braid Cassandra’s hair after supper?”
Nick glanced over and winked at her. “Sure thing.”
“She has to look pretty for her baptism.”
“Honey,” snapped Mrs. Lund, “I told you, we’re not having a doll baptized.”
Lene pouted. Her lips are like an upside-down apricot slice. “But, Mom, she’s going to go to hell if we don’t. And her father is Irish, we can’t expect him to accept that.”
Boone snorted a laugh and soup came flying out of his nose.
Nick cocked his head, then looked up at me and grinned. “Irish, huh?”
My cheeks combusted.” I’m not-not that doll’s fa-father.”
“So you’re denying your paternity?” Nick seemed very amused. “I think we should have a blood test done.”
Boone twitched and yelped next to me.
Mrs. Lund fought back a smile. “Enough, Nicolai. Leave him alone.” She stared down Lene. “And you, young lady, you are not to read another one of my lady magazines, understood?”
Of course, I didn’t have another bite after that.
After dinner, Boone and I decided to go downstairs to play a game of Monopoly. We weren’t allowed to go outside, on account of him still being grounded and all.
Nick had disappeared again.
Boone and I were alone in the basement, playing and eating leftover Halloween candy.
“So when’s your dad coming back?” Boone was chewing on some Tire Sainte-Catherine.
“Dunno. Aunt Frannie says after Christmas-as maybe.”
“What you gettin’?”
“A VCR.”
Boone’s eyes widened. “Really. Wow.”
He landed on the “go to jail” square.
Again.
“So, your brother had to take the ca-ca-car back, huh?”
“Yeah. But he said he didn’t care. He doesn’t need a car. Dave’s got a car.”
David has everything. He doesn’t even have to ask. But it’s funny, because he looks empty all the time.
“So, are you gonna go to the stupid Valentine’s Day dance?” Boone tried to sound like he didn’t want to go to the school dance, but I know he’s been planning for it ever since Mrs. Saint-Amour announced they were going to have one this year.
And it’s only for the fifth and sixth graders.
“Dunno.”
“O’Reilly, you have to come. I mean, you have to.”
“Why?”
“Because. You just have to.”
I frowned, and then shrugged. “Who-who you going with?”
This dance is a couples only dance. Every boy has been encouraged to ask a girl of his choice to escort him.
“Kenya.”
Kenya is a black girl. She’s from Africa. Her skin is almost blue. She wears flowered dresses and yellow ribbons in her hair.
“Did she say-ay yes?”
Of course I know she said yes. I heard Susan and Marylou whimpering about how Boone was going to take a “nigger” to the dance. Every time I hear the N-word, my fists close up. I want to scream, but I never do. I never say anything.
Just like when JF and his friends call me a faggot.
Boone raised a brow and smiled. “She’s the one who asked me. Did you see her eyes? I’ve never seen eyes like that. I’m gonna try to kiss her. If she lets me. I really hope she lets me. Do you think she’ll let me?”
I can’t see why on earth she wouldn’t. Boone has nice lips. They never have leftover sleep on them, and his teeth are straight and white because he brushes them a lot. He never has bad breath, well, only on Saturday morning after he’s had Johan’s onion omelet.
Not that I would kiss him. I wouldn’t kiss Boone. No way.
“Dunno.” I said. “De-depends, I guess.”
“On what?”
“On if she-she wants to.”
He sighed. “Gee thanks, Red. That really helps a lot.” He rolled the dice. “Well, anyway, it’s worth a shot, right?”
“I guess.”
“What do you mean, I guess? Don’t you wanna kiss a girl on the mouth? Besides, it’s necessary.”
“How so?” I couldn’t find the necessity he was talking about.
“To get hair down there. To have your thing grow. For your voice to change. You know. Things like that. That’s how Nick got so tall. He kissed a lot of girls. He started way before me. Says he was kissing girls back when he was in diapers.”
For some reason, I can believe that. “Well, okay, but-but what if girls don’t wa-wanna kiss me, huh?”
“Plenty of girls wanna kiss you.”
“Right. Na-na-name one. And Lene doesn’t count.”
Boone rubbed his chin and looked up to the ceiling. He didn’t say anything for at least five minutes.
“Well?” I insisted. “Na-name one.”
Boone slapped his thigh and then smiled like he had won an Olympic gold medal. “Sue Ellen.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Your cousin-in from Oslo?”
“That’s right. Remember, she kept trying to get you to go in the shed with her?”
I remember. She didn’t have a neck or knees, and her face looked like yellow Play-Doh. “That doesn’t co-co-count either.”
“Why not?”
“Just doesn’t.”
Boone folded his arms around his chest. “You wanna watch Top Gun?”
“You’re kidding, right? Boone, no-no.”
“So what then?”
“Dunno.”
Boone’s face lit up. “You wanna make prank phone calls? We could do the one where I pretend I’m being murdered.”
Boone is the best at prank calls. One time, he actually had a woman in tears.
“You don’t think we’ll ge-get in trouble?” I asked, remembering my pledge to Aunt Frannie.
“We’ll get the phone from the kitchen and plug it in down here. Mom’s doing the neighbor’s nails tonight and Dad’s watching TV, so…”
“What about-bout Nick?”
“Nico? He’s with Dave. He won’t come home until we’re sleeping.”
Disappointment and relief were rolling around inside my gut. “Oh. What are they do-doing?”
“Dunno. They go by the river a lot. So, anyways, why do you keep asking me about my brother all the time?”
My eyes darted up. Saliva got caught in my throat. “I don’t. I wa-was just making conversa-sation. I don’t care what your brother do-does. I mean, what’s it to me—”
“Yeah, you do. Don’t lie. You’re always looking at him.”
My heart beat in all different directions. “I never loo-look at him.”
“Yeah, you do.” Boone casually got to his feet, then turned the TV on. “It doesn’t matter if you do, I don’t care.” He popped the Top Gun cassette into the machine. “You can play with my GI Joes if you like. I’m gonna watch this.”
GI Joes?
I haven’t played GI Joes since last year. And I wasn’t even playing really, I was just lining them up and shooting them down with a rubber band. “Fine,” I said, “I’ll be-be in your room, not playing.”
I went to his room and plopped down on the bed.
I stared at the ceiling for a long time. Finally, I got Boone’s GI Joes out of the shoe box and lined them up. Then I heard some noise.
Voices.
I tensed my neck. It was Nick, and David was with him. I shot my last soldier down and went to the door. I heard Nick’s bedroom door shut and the voices became muffled, but I could still hear them talking through the wall that separates the boys’ rooms. I couldn’t make out all the words, on account of Johan doing an excellent job on the isolation in the basement.
I tried going back to preparing the second battalion for combat, but couldn’t concentrate. I kept trying to hear what they were saying. Once in a while, I would hear Nick or David laugh, then it would get quiet again.
Before too long, my curiosity got the best of me.
I rose and crept out of Boone’s room. Boone was in the playroom. He couldn’t see me standing in the small hallway that connects the two bedrooms and the bathroom.
I stood between Boone’s door and Nick’s.
Now that I was closer, I could hear a little better.
I heard David’s voice first. “Why not?”
They were playing some music.
“Stop,” whispered Nick. I could barely hear him.
I stood stiff with my back against the wall, listening to them whisper to each other.
“You keep saying you wanna get out of here, Nick, this is your chance. If you come with me, we could—”
“I told you already. No, Dave.” Nick’s voice had risen over the music. He sounded tense.
“Why? I’ve got a job lined up and my friend says—”
“A job? You don’t even know what kind of place that club is.” Nick had lowered his voice again. “And you’re gonna dance there?” I heard a thump, and then Nick said, “You’re so fucking naïve, Davie. One day you’re gonna get yourself into something you won’t be able to get out of.”
There was a long silence, and I almost changed my mind.
Then I heard David again. “That’s why you should come out there with me.”
The music had stopped, and I held my breath, pressing my back to the wall, with my ear tuned to their private conversation.
“Nick.” David’s voice had a strange sound to it. Like he was hurting. “I need you.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Had he really said that?
David was getting upset. “I can’t do this alone, but Nick, I can’t stay here one more minute, I can’t stand my life here. You don’t know how bad it gets sometimes. You don’t have to go to Loyola, you don’t have to put up with that shit, I swear, Nick, I’ll fucking kill myself if—”
“You shut the fuck up.” Nick whispered, but his voice was hard. “Don’t say shit like that. You’re too good for that. You got talent, Dave, you got something at least, something to shoot for.” He paused, and then spoke again. Softer. “What the fuck do I have, huh? I can’t even read this piece-of-shit book—”
“Nick, no, that’s not true and you know it. You have everything going for you. I think you’re the most beautiful—” But David stopped.
I hadn’t taken one single breath.
I opened my mouth to let some air in and closed my eyes. I don’t know why I felt so weak. There was something in David�
�s voice that made my belly feel tight and warm.
I kept hearing those three words in my head.
I need you. I need you. I need you.
My cheeks were hot.
Then I heard Nick whisper again. “They’re gonna kick me out. Cause of the knife. She’s gonna flip when I tell her. My dad…Oh fuck, Davie, what’s he gonna think of me, you know?” Nick’s voice dropped to a whisper again. “I don’t know what to do…I just don’t know anymore—”
“Nick. Oh Nick. Come here.”
I couldn’t even swallow anymore. They were barely whispering now. I took a step closer to Nick’s door.
“Don’t, Dave.” I heard Nick say.
“Why? Why can’t I just put my mouth —”
“No.” Nick’s voice was sharp and brutal. “Enough.”
“Why? Damn it, Nick. One day it’s yes, the next is no.” David’s tone had changed. He was whining. “You can’t keep doing this to me. You’re killing me. Look at me. Look how—”
“Get out.”
Though it wasn’t meant for me, I jumped at the sound of that order and leaped back to Boone’s room with my heart in my throat. I shut the door behind me and leaned up against it. My breaths were uneven, and I couldn’t seem to get the rhythm right. My eyes pulsed inside my head.
I slid down the door and sat with my head resting between my knees.
I listened.
Had David left?
No. He was still in Nick’s bedroom. They weren’t talking, though. I couldn’t hear a thing. Except for the music. They had turned it back on.
I couldn’t get that tightness in my belly to go away.
And it wasn’t just my belly anymore.
That warm feeling had moved down into my privates.
I decided to go to the bathroom.
I hurried down the hall, and on the way, I listened for any voices, but heard none. Just music.
I locked myself up in the bathroom and sat on the counter with my back to the mirror.
That’s when it happened.
My penis was swollen, like in the morning, but even if I wore my loose pajama bottoms, they still felt too tight. I didn’t really wanna touch it, because I know it’s a dirty thing to do. Mom says you only touch it when you wash, but I couldn’t just leave it inside my pants, it was starting to throb.
What could I do?
The door was locked.
I checked it twice.