Note: This scene between Gentry and his father has four parts. This is the second one. The last one will be posted on Friday (they're short.) These scenes were hellish to write! The type-o's have also been eliminated.
Circles. Everything seemed to go in circles. Thoughts, visions, motives. Sons became fathers, fathers died, the world still spun around its orbit.
Things did not change.
Everything moved in circles. Smooth, round, circle. It was supposed to be endless, with no start and no end. Yet when you walked in one, you had to have started somewhere, at some point. For Gentry, this point was birth. Somewhere, on the other side and the hazy future, was death. Yet since Gentry lacked direction, he was never sure which way he was going.
He liked line segments better, because there was a start and an end. Birth, death. If you weren’t one, you were the other. Fantasy, reality. When you were dreaming, it wasn’t real. It was always one or the other. Yet it was never that simple, since circles were more complicated.
Some things could not be explained. This was why, sometimes, he had nothing to say.
Now it stood before him, as it did so many times before, holding its grave silence and dark gaze. Eyes firmly fixed forward. Gentry always saw him in fragmented pieces, and whenever he tried to picture him as a whole, no face formed. He found he could do it when he didn't try so hard, when he was half-asleep. Yet even then, something was always missing, or he was out of focus; a walking blur of a man. At times Gentry doubted it was real, and wasn’t sure if he’d dreamt all of it. Some days, he wasn’t sure if he was looking at his father or staring down a bizarre figment of his imagination.
The quiet lingered in the room like an unearthly presence, held by both but fathered by none, and ultimately destroyed by the sharp pain of a hand slapping against his face.
“When was the last time you saw it?”
“Don’t know.” Gentry inhaled sharply.
Another slap hit his face, but this one was more decisive. Although he recoiled, Gentry didn’t feel it the way he had the first one. The skin had already thickened itself. And now Johnson was now red in the face, panting quietly through urgent gasps of air, almost wheezing them past his dry lips.
“Where is it? Don’t play your games with me.”
“Carly has it. He threatens me with it. That’s it.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
Johnson groaned softly, but resisted the urge to clutch his chest. He pulled away and staggered back to his desk, leaning over it grimly. The blood quickly drained from his face, returning it to its original dimness as the wheezing subsided.
“How’s your situation working out for you?” Johnson asked him casually, although his voice was strained. “If you need money, let me know.”
“That goldfish is dying.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t keep a goldfish in a bowl.”
Johnson leered at his son’s hand, up the lenth of his arm.
“You care about a goldfish? You can hardly take care of yourself, much less an animal.”
He then fell silent, hatefully leering at the swollen red burns which mottled Gentry’s skin.
Gentry noticed him watching, and looked back at him in the same way.
“You have no right to be like this.” Johnson scolded him. “It’s not your place— Stop looking at me like I’m the freak. I’m not a monster.”
“You know what you are.”
Monday, September 15, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 6
Mr. Lee Johnson kept many secrets. One was that he never stepped on the tile next to the trash can, especially the one near the front on the office. Not only was it inappropriate for officials to associate themselves with garbage, but it was embarrassing to admit that he held his breath if he even came within the vicinity of it, fearing something worse would be set into motion if he didn’t. Another secret was that few things bothered him more than the sound of slamming doors, which was why he always gently leaned his own shut upon entering the office. He would lean the blank blue wood into the steel doorframe, then turn the doorknob to mute the soft click. Perhaps Gentry wouldn’t have noticed him if it weren’t for the sound of alligator shoes on the carpet. Or perhaps he would, since it was unusual to use that door when he always used the one on the other side of the building. And in fact, it was unusual for him to leave his office at all.
But the truth was, Gentry hadn’t heard him; he’d felt him enter. It was in the chill that gripped hold, the cold which trickled down his spine in that old familiar way. The familiar pounding in his gut, the static in his ears. Drowning, it was like drowning when the breathlessness pulled him under, to where it was so dark and cold that nothing else existed but the wild beating of his heart.
It wasn’t the first time or last time he had faced his fears.
“That boy, Zach Tyler, is something else.” He heard his father say absently, forcing a breath past his lips. Johnson watched him swig down a sip of water for a brief moment, then turned his back to take the moment in his day where he always surveyed his desk; just to make sure everything was still in its place. That the pens were separated from the pencils, that the dust had stayed away from the carefully polished wood. That the square picture of his family was exactly in the left corner, turned so that the edge of the table would form a equilateral triangle. Nothing ever changed, and he made sure of that.
“It’s wrong what you’re doing with him.” He said without facing him, still surveying the bleak landscape that was his little office space. Twelve years of legal education amounted to this little space, to this crumb of power. Checking his desk had become more of a habit rather than necessity: he was used to checking that things were in check. That there was a place for everything and everything in his place— that was how things needed to be. Logical, organized, simple.
Yet opposites attracted, and he often wondered how it could be that the more he tried to control chaos, the more it controlled him. His gaze lingered on his Gentry now, frowning in wait for a reply. But he knew none was coming, it was just that the gesture was important if you pursued the intent of a conversation. Lecturing didn’t work.
“You’re pulling him into your mess.” He went on, while straightening his tie and jacket, “You’ll hurt him, it’s only a matter of time. I don’t know what you’re thinking. Perhaps, that he can take care of himself. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
As predicted, no reply. Yet he knew that Gentry was listening, because he had stopped drawing circles, and simply sat staring limply at the sheet, pretending to think about anything but this.
“He might be in high school, but he’s still wet behind the ears, and likes to think he can have his way and change things. That somehow, he’s special; and that if he waits around long enough you’ll change. You should have seen the show he made of not going to the rally. Listen to me when I tell you this: If you care about him, you’ll leave and let him live a normal life.”
Gentry exhaled forcefully, then took another gulp of water. The tips of his ears were reddened, something he couldn’t hide. It was getting to him. The goldfish on top of the file cabinet swam in circles within its tiny bowl.
“So, which sob story did you tell him?”
“He isn’t with me because he feels sorry for me.” Gentry finally replied, then fell silent again.
Johnson’s eyes narrowed to slits when he smiled skeptically. Taking in the naiveté of the statement, and wondering if any of it was genuine.
“Aw, come now.” He said coarsely, “He’s a hormonal kid who’s discovered someone who knows how to give head. And he stays around because no one else pays that much attention to him.”
He went on, grinding out each word like stones against pavement. It took control to be like this... Firm, precise. The goldfish swam in circles.
“People don’t talk to him, they talk about him. And it’s always negative. No one really likes him, but he thinks you do. Yet, you’re really just bored, aren’t you?”
Gentry watched the goldfish, the fluorescent office light glinting off its silver back. It swam in circles, never once veering off its invisible path. He glanced away again, and took another swig of water, wondering if it ever viewed itself as a shark.
“You know; Gentry. This morning he made a scene about not going to the rally. He stayed in the cafeteria as everyone left, and I could tell from the look of him that he wouldn’t give in. So I thought what you would do, and didn’t make him. That’s your way of showing affection, right? You give him favors, like excusing that incident in the pool. But he doesn’t respond to me the way he does to you. Instead he gives me this mean, nervous look…like he knew something and couldn’t say it.”
Gentry was back to scribbling circles again. Neat, precise, circles. He knew he did that only to make him angry, to show him that he wasn’t worth listening to. That any mundane task could hold his attention more effectively.
“Does he know?” he asked him; and after a thoughtful pause, Gentry glanced up to reply:
“Know what?”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“Games are supposed to be fun.” Gentry thought to himself, but instead kept silent and shrugged stupidly.
“He doesn’t know anything.”
And then his head fell down limply, fingers back at drawing circles. Mr. Lee drew a deep breath. This was grinding down his patience, but he wasn’t about to show it. It would be another secret.
“I know well enough to understand that I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, and I’m not about to try.” his eyes grew cloudy, and his voice quieted down to a murmur, “I also know one of my pictures is missing... Does Carly still have it?”
“Ask him.”
Johnson waited a moment before he prod against the table and leaned his weight over it, pressing his palms flat on the maple wood surface.
“I’m asking you. It’s in both of our interest to protect the family, if that means anything to you.”
His breathing grew heavy, labored by heart pains. He had been sick for a while now, and Gentry smelled the gradual death on him. There was no use in doing anything now. Johnson’s face flushed with anger he couldn’t hide, the inevitable nature which defined him, the feelings which all too often raced ahead of his thoughts. The goldfish swam in circles.
But the truth was, Gentry hadn’t heard him; he’d felt him enter. It was in the chill that gripped hold, the cold which trickled down his spine in that old familiar way. The familiar pounding in his gut, the static in his ears. Drowning, it was like drowning when the breathlessness pulled him under, to where it was so dark and cold that nothing else existed but the wild beating of his heart.
It wasn’t the first time or last time he had faced his fears.
“That boy, Zach Tyler, is something else.” He heard his father say absently, forcing a breath past his lips. Johnson watched him swig down a sip of water for a brief moment, then turned his back to take the moment in his day where he always surveyed his desk; just to make sure everything was still in its place. That the pens were separated from the pencils, that the dust had stayed away from the carefully polished wood. That the square picture of his family was exactly in the left corner, turned so that the edge of the table would form a equilateral triangle. Nothing ever changed, and he made sure of that.
“It’s wrong what you’re doing with him.” He said without facing him, still surveying the bleak landscape that was his little office space. Twelve years of legal education amounted to this little space, to this crumb of power. Checking his desk had become more of a habit rather than necessity: he was used to checking that things were in check. That there was a place for everything and everything in his place— that was how things needed to be. Logical, organized, simple.
Yet opposites attracted, and he often wondered how it could be that the more he tried to control chaos, the more it controlled him. His gaze lingered on his Gentry now, frowning in wait for a reply. But he knew none was coming, it was just that the gesture was important if you pursued the intent of a conversation. Lecturing didn’t work.
“You’re pulling him into your mess.” He went on, while straightening his tie and jacket, “You’ll hurt him, it’s only a matter of time. I don’t know what you’re thinking. Perhaps, that he can take care of himself. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
As predicted, no reply. Yet he knew that Gentry was listening, because he had stopped drawing circles, and simply sat staring limply at the sheet, pretending to think about anything but this.
“He might be in high school, but he’s still wet behind the ears, and likes to think he can have his way and change things. That somehow, he’s special; and that if he waits around long enough you’ll change. You should have seen the show he made of not going to the rally. Listen to me when I tell you this: If you care about him, you’ll leave and let him live a normal life.”
Gentry exhaled forcefully, then took another gulp of water. The tips of his ears were reddened, something he couldn’t hide. It was getting to him. The goldfish on top of the file cabinet swam in circles within its tiny bowl.
“So, which sob story did you tell him?”
“He isn’t with me because he feels sorry for me.” Gentry finally replied, then fell silent again.
Johnson’s eyes narrowed to slits when he smiled skeptically. Taking in the naiveté of the statement, and wondering if any of it was genuine.
“Aw, come now.” He said coarsely, “He’s a hormonal kid who’s discovered someone who knows how to give head. And he stays around because no one else pays that much attention to him.”
He went on, grinding out each word like stones against pavement. It took control to be like this... Firm, precise. The goldfish swam in circles.
“People don’t talk to him, they talk about him. And it’s always negative. No one really likes him, but he thinks you do. Yet, you’re really just bored, aren’t you?”
Gentry watched the goldfish, the fluorescent office light glinting off its silver back. It swam in circles, never once veering off its invisible path. He glanced away again, and took another swig of water, wondering if it ever viewed itself as a shark.
“You know; Gentry. This morning he made a scene about not going to the rally. He stayed in the cafeteria as everyone left, and I could tell from the look of him that he wouldn’t give in. So I thought what you would do, and didn’t make him. That’s your way of showing affection, right? You give him favors, like excusing that incident in the pool. But he doesn’t respond to me the way he does to you. Instead he gives me this mean, nervous look…like he knew something and couldn’t say it.”
Gentry was back to scribbling circles again. Neat, precise, circles. He knew he did that only to make him angry, to show him that he wasn’t worth listening to. That any mundane task could hold his attention more effectively.
“Does he know?” he asked him; and after a thoughtful pause, Gentry glanced up to reply:
“Know what?”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“Games are supposed to be fun.” Gentry thought to himself, but instead kept silent and shrugged stupidly.
“He doesn’t know anything.”
And then his head fell down limply, fingers back at drawing circles. Mr. Lee drew a deep breath. This was grinding down his patience, but he wasn’t about to show it. It would be another secret.
“I know well enough to understand that I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, and I’m not about to try.” his eyes grew cloudy, and his voice quieted down to a murmur, “I also know one of my pictures is missing... Does Carly still have it?”
“Ask him.”
Johnson waited a moment before he prod against the table and leaned his weight over it, pressing his palms flat on the maple wood surface.
“I’m asking you. It’s in both of our interest to protect the family, if that means anything to you.”
His breathing grew heavy, labored by heart pains. He had been sick for a while now, and Gentry smelled the gradual death on him. There was no use in doing anything now. Johnson’s face flushed with anger he couldn’t hide, the inevitable nature which defined him, the feelings which all too often raced ahead of his thoughts. The goldfish swam in circles.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 5
As he left, Mr.Johnson threw a crumpled piece of paper into the trash. But he didn't approach the trash to do so, he threw it from a distance and didn't see it dunk in. The paper had blown onto the cafeteria tiles, muddied and stomped on by the herds of students leaving the building. If he had opened it, he would have seen an impressively detailed rendering of a fish, eighteen smooth-lined circles, and the following dialogue:
you ever afraid of the dark?
not telling
just tell me.
Why do you want to know?
Because.
Sometimes. But only if it’s too quiet.
I can help.
You know a way to magically scare the monsters away?
I can tell you. Wanna know?
Just tell me already.
Masturbate.
???????
you ever afraid of the dark?
not telling
just tell me.
Why do you want to know?
Because.
Sometimes. But only if it’s too quiet.
I can help.
You know a way to magically scare the monsters away?
I can tell you. Wanna know?
Just tell me already.
Masturbate.
???????
Monday, September 8, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 4
Note: THANKS FOR THE COMMENTS :)! I got carried away and misnumbered one chapter. I didn't just make a huge update, I just pulled two chapters out of the original "Chapter 17." I write chapter headlines for myself. But then I ignore them >.>. This post is a flashback (a few hours back) from the previous one, like rewinding a tape.
Earlier that day, there had been a rally in the gym.
Whenever there was a rally in the gym, they closed down the classrooms and all rooms except for bathrooms in hopes of boosting attendance. No matter what the weather, this did not work on Zach. Not even today, when it was a frigid 56 degrees out and frost powdered the lawn. This was because Zach was a force of nature in and of himself, and even the weather could not make him do something he was not convinced of. Public high school had not only disenchanted him from day one, but left him philosophically pondering what the point was of cheering for an institution which tormented you. There was a word for that.
MASCOCHISM.
“At least when you sit in the cold, you don’t have to cheer for it,” Zach thought to himself, ducking into the open door. It was easy to be logical when he factored Gentry (and feelings!) out of the equation. Though somehow, he (and feelings) always snuck back in and messed things up.
Since the janitor had mistakenly left the cafeteria open (or perhaps he did it out of sympathy), rally refugees flooded the linoleum-tiled premises, crowding around the blue metal lunch tables. Soon Ms.Nasty would come by to tell them the cafeteria was closing and that they MUST attend the rally. She threatened them as if it were the holy word of God, waving around her clipboard with a crazed zeal. But all of the five people familiar with school rules knew that it was not mandatory at all.
But they also knew it was useless to argue, since a noisy gym was preferable to sitting outside in the cold.
Zach shoved his way through the crowd and trudged to a solitary lunch table, contemplating whether or pull a sit-in. His eyes raised in disbelief when Mikey pulled out a seat and joined him.
“Hey.”
“You going to the Senior rally?” Zach asked promptly, to which Mikey replied,
“Yeah, you?”
“Fuck no. I’ve only attended one rally here. My first, and my last.”
Mikey chortled, “You’re such a rebel.”
“Did you know that they censor rallies? I think that’s stupid. They’re supposed to represent students and the school, but they’re really made for just the school and parents. The students organize the damn thing, but the school tells them what they can’t do until it’s basically just the school’s production, with students as the shift workers. That’s why we have such lame rally themes. You know what the theme is this time? Smurfs. They don’t let students pick out any themes because they’re so damn worried what the parents will think.”
“Well, the parents are paying the taxes.” Said Mikey, before curtly changing the subject, “What’s wrong with your lower lip? It looks swollen.”
“Infection.”
Mikey cocked his head, “You might want to try taking out the piercing…”
“No.”
Mikey raised both his eyebrows, then sighed and sat down opposite him, “I noticed you’ve been sitting alone lately.”
“You have amazing observational skills.”
“Yeah, well.” Mikey grinned, “I could watch your cute face all day. And have.”
Zach scoffed, “What are you, Santa?”
At this, Mikey pulled back.
“Well. I’m gonna go grab a seat at the rally. Bye, Zach.”
“Bye.”
As he walked out Mrs.Nasty walked in. But before she could say anything, another man proceeded in front of her, ambling right past the aisles of tables. They exchanged a few words, after which she curtly said something into her walkie talkie and left. The man stayed behind with his hands dug into his black trench coat and clenched jaw extended forward past a leathery neck. His black eyes sparked up, and he yelled out,
“All right everyone! Listen up. There is a rally going on Right Now in the gym. Attendance is mandatory!”
Zach stayed in his seat. The new trend he’d observed was that school officials monitored the grounds during rallies. Clusters of them would be camped out in locations where students were known to linger, standing there with their sunglasses and walkie talkies, arms crossed and mouths drawn out in pensive frowns. Their presence alone forced students to relocate, or risk being badgered about how “rally attendance was mandatory” or WHY they didn’t attend the rally. Other areas of campus were marked as “off limits”, restricting movement to the bathroom areas.
Despite all this, Zach did not budge. He was from Haapsalu , Estonia , where the weather was colder and the people were tougher. Damn, and how he missed Estonia …
“Excuse me. But rally attendance is mandatory.” The clipped drawl catapulted him from his beloved motherland, and he found himself staring back into twin pools of black space.
For a while he could have sworn they were Gentry’s, but this was actually Mr.Lee Johnson. Zach gawked back at him, finding it tremendously creepy to know what he knew about him. Those eyes were as dark as the drawer where he kept that picture…
“No; it’s not.”
Johnson raised his eyebrows as if he was going to loudly reprimand him, yet instead said quietly,
“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you. Now please, go to the rally.”
“It’s not mandatory, so I’m not going. This school doesn’t go out of its way to support me, so I’m not supporting it.”
“You must be Zach.”
Zach grinned uneasily. Inside, his heart was pounding and the tiny hairs at the back of his neck were standing up. The way that man was looking at him, smugly knowing…
“Well, Zach. I’m not going to write you up. Though don’t you think you’re missing out?”
“No.”
“Well, see you then.” He turned around and headed for the door, adding, “I’ll let you stay here… it’ll be our secret.”
Earlier that day, there had been a rally in the gym.
Whenever there was a rally in the gym, they closed down the classrooms and all rooms except for bathrooms in hopes of boosting attendance. No matter what the weather, this did not work on Zach. Not even today, when it was a frigid 56 degrees out and frost powdered the lawn. This was because Zach was a force of nature in and of himself, and even the weather could not make him do something he was not convinced of. Public high school had not only disenchanted him from day one, but left him philosophically pondering what the point was of cheering for an institution which tormented you. There was a word for that.
MASCOCHISM.
“At least when you sit in the cold, you don’t have to cheer for it,” Zach thought to himself, ducking into the open door. It was easy to be logical when he factored Gentry (and feelings!) out of the equation. Though somehow, he (and feelings) always snuck back in and messed things up.
Since the janitor had mistakenly left the cafeteria open (or perhaps he did it out of sympathy), rally refugees flooded the linoleum-tiled premises, crowding around the blue metal lunch tables. Soon Ms.Nasty would come by to tell them the cafeteria was closing and that they MUST attend the rally. She threatened them as if it were the holy word of God, waving around her clipboard with a crazed zeal. But all of the five people familiar with school rules knew that it was not mandatory at all.
But they also knew it was useless to argue, since a noisy gym was preferable to sitting outside in the cold.
Zach shoved his way through the crowd and trudged to a solitary lunch table, contemplating whether or pull a sit-in. His eyes raised in disbelief when Mikey pulled out a seat and joined him.
“Hey.”
“You going to the Senior rally?” Zach asked promptly, to which Mikey replied,
“Yeah, you?”
“Fuck no. I’ve only attended one rally here. My first, and my last.”
Mikey chortled, “You’re such a rebel.”
“Did you know that they censor rallies? I think that’s stupid. They’re supposed to represent students and the school, but they’re really made for just the school and parents. The students organize the damn thing, but the school tells them what they can’t do until it’s basically just the school’s production, with students as the shift workers. That’s why we have such lame rally themes. You know what the theme is this time? Smurfs. They don’t let students pick out any themes because they’re so damn worried what the parents will think.”
“Well, the parents are paying the taxes.” Said Mikey, before curtly changing the subject, “What’s wrong with your lower lip? It looks swollen.”
“Infection.”
Mikey cocked his head, “You might want to try taking out the piercing…”
“No.”
Mikey raised both his eyebrows, then sighed and sat down opposite him, “I noticed you’ve been sitting alone lately.”
“You have amazing observational skills.”
“Yeah, well.” Mikey grinned, “I could watch your cute face all day. And have.”
Zach scoffed, “What are you, Santa?”
At this, Mikey pulled back.
“Well. I’m gonna go grab a seat at the rally. Bye, Zach.”
“Bye.”
As he walked out Mrs.Nasty walked in. But before she could say anything, another man proceeded in front of her, ambling right past the aisles of tables. They exchanged a few words, after which she curtly said something into her walkie talkie and left. The man stayed behind with his hands dug into his black trench coat and clenched jaw extended forward past a leathery neck. His black eyes sparked up, and he yelled out,
“All right everyone! Listen up. There is a rally going on Right Now in the gym. Attendance is mandatory!”
Zach stayed in his seat. The new trend he’d observed was that school officials monitored the grounds during rallies. Clusters of them would be camped out in locations where students were known to linger, standing there with their sunglasses and walkie talkies, arms crossed and mouths drawn out in pensive frowns. Their presence alone forced students to relocate, or risk being badgered about how “rally attendance was mandatory” or WHY they didn’t attend the rally. Other areas of campus were marked as “off limits”, restricting movement to the bathroom areas.
Despite all this, Zach did not budge. He was from Haapsalu , Estonia , where the weather was colder and the people were tougher. Damn, and how he missed Estonia …
“Excuse me. But rally attendance is mandatory.” The clipped drawl catapulted him from his beloved motherland, and he found himself staring back into twin pools of black space.
For a while he could have sworn they were Gentry’s, but this was actually Mr.Lee Johnson. Zach gawked back at him, finding it tremendously creepy to know what he knew about him. Those eyes were as dark as the drawer where he kept that picture…
“No; it’s not.”
Johnson raised his eyebrows as if he was going to loudly reprimand him, yet instead said quietly,
“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you. Now please, go to the rally.”
“It’s not mandatory, so I’m not going. This school doesn’t go out of its way to support me, so I’m not supporting it.”
“You must be Zach.”
Zach grinned uneasily. Inside, his heart was pounding and the tiny hairs at the back of his neck were standing up. The way that man was looking at him, smugly knowing…
“Well, Zach. I’m not going to write you up. Though don’t you think you’re missing out?”
“No.”
“Well, see you then.” He turned around and headed for the door, adding, “I’ll let you stay here… it’ll be our secret.”
Friday, September 5, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 3
Some people could say they were seduced.
Zach was not one of those people.
The librarian typically clocked out around one, and relied on the janitor to close up the library. Technically, school rules stated that she had to stay until 4:00. But no one ever went into the library at four. Not even the janitor, who arrived at 6:30 to lock the door.
Zach’s shirt fell on an empty chair.
He would wait for him sometimes. Arriving early and eager, pressed up against the desk with an uneasy look on his face, and a hard dick in his pants. He usually made the first move. A kiss, a lingering touch, a heated embrace— wanting to hold him close despite the guilt that fluttered in his stomach and pounded at his gut.
If he were more naïve, he would have fanaticized about dumping Mikey and taking Gentry as his boyfriend; but knowing Gentry, the very idea was ridiculous. You didn’t keep people like Gentry around as boyfriends. Hell, you didn’t expect relationships from them— Zach fell for him, that was that. You couldn’t choose to fall. Yet just because you loved someone didn’t mean that a relationship would work.
Gentry’s shirt followed, yet he didn’t wait to see it land--- instead he firmly pulled Zach against his chest and kissed him deeply, sliding a hand into his dark hair.
Then, he paused.
“I told you not to wear hairgel.”
“If I don’t wear hairgel,” Zach replied breathlessly, breaking the kiss, “my hair will have no shape.”
“If you wear hairgel, it feels like plastic.” Came the unenthusiastically murmured reply.
“Do I style my hair just so that you can run your fingers through it?”
Gentry exhaled and turned Zach around, shoving him front-first against the table.
“No more talking.” He pinned one hand behind Zach’s back, and softly sucked on the area between the neck and shoulder. When Zach mewled, Gentry’s heart skipped a beat and he kissed him on the lips.
“Oww…”
Gentry groaned as he pulled away.
“Sorry… the piercing....”
He calmly cupped the side of Zach’s face and looked it over.
“It’s swollen. Shit. Take it out before it gets infected.”
“Taking it out defeats the point of putting it in.”
Gentry rolled his eyes and undid Zach’s fly, sliding a hand into his boxers.
“Crap, wait.” Zach pulled away, “These are my nice boxers.”
The redhead stood there, tired-eyed and unamused.
“Nice boxers? They look like your other boxers.”
“Yes, but they cost more. I forgot to wear the other kind… shit.”
“It’s nice to know you save the cheap boxers for me.”
“No, that isn’t it.” Zach drawled, “These are cotton. They soak in the smell, so I don’t wear them when we, you know.”
“You can predict when we…”
“No, but there’s always the probability…” an awkward pause, “…when you’re around. You know what I mean.”
Gentry looked to him with helpless exasperation.
“…What is the point of buying boxers you’re just---”
“You use them if you want to make an impression. They have better form.”
“How many people do you have to impress?” murmured Gentry, moving up behind him to kiss the back of his neck, “Me, your so-called boyfriend…”
Zach sighed, as Gentry’s hand traced down his stomach, and one finger dug into the waistline of his boxers to pull them down.
“…” Gentry paused suddenly, “This is new.”
“Don’t---ow.”
“What? Did I hurt you?”
“No... Just don’t touch that area.”
Gentry slid one arm under Zach’s right leg and eased it onto the table, then whispered in his ear, “Next time, wait until you actually have something to shave…”
“Hah, hah. Very funny.”
Gentry, who was never one to let off, nipped at his earlobe and whispered, “You’re becoming such a faggot.”
“Faggot?” Zach spat as Gentry positioned himself between his thighs, “You’re gay. Do I really need to point that out?”
Gentry cupped his mouth again, taking care to curve his palm so it wouldn’t hit the sore piercing.
“…No. But if you get a lisp, I won’t fuck you anymore.”
Zach bit him, which resulted in Gentry forcibly shoving him down against the table.
“No… biting.” he breathed in his ear, holding him down and pinning one arm behind his back.
Zach was not one of those people.
The librarian typically clocked out around one, and relied on the janitor to close up the library. Technically, school rules stated that she had to stay until 4:00. But no one ever went into the library at four. Not even the janitor, who arrived at 6:30 to lock the door.
Zach’s shirt fell on an empty chair.
He would wait for him sometimes. Arriving early and eager, pressed up against the desk with an uneasy look on his face, and a hard dick in his pants. He usually made the first move. A kiss, a lingering touch, a heated embrace— wanting to hold him close despite the guilt that fluttered in his stomach and pounded at his gut.
If he were more naïve, he would have fanaticized about dumping Mikey and taking Gentry as his boyfriend; but knowing Gentry, the very idea was ridiculous. You didn’t keep people like Gentry around as boyfriends. Hell, you didn’t expect relationships from them— Zach fell for him, that was that. You couldn’t choose to fall. Yet just because you loved someone didn’t mean that a relationship would work.
Gentry’s shirt followed, yet he didn’t wait to see it land--- instead he firmly pulled Zach against his chest and kissed him deeply, sliding a hand into his dark hair.
Then, he paused.
“I told you not to wear hairgel.”
“If I don’t wear hairgel,” Zach replied breathlessly, breaking the kiss, “my hair will have no shape.”
“If you wear hairgel, it feels like plastic.” Came the unenthusiastically murmured reply.
“Do I style my hair just so that you can run your fingers through it?”
Gentry exhaled and turned Zach around, shoving him front-first against the table.
“No more talking.” He pinned one hand behind Zach’s back, and softly sucked on the area between the neck and shoulder. When Zach mewled, Gentry’s heart skipped a beat and he kissed him on the lips.
“Oww…”
Gentry groaned as he pulled away.
“Sorry… the piercing....”
He calmly cupped the side of Zach’s face and looked it over.
“It’s swollen. Shit. Take it out before it gets infected.”
“Taking it out defeats the point of putting it in.”
Gentry rolled his eyes and undid Zach’s fly, sliding a hand into his boxers.
“Crap, wait.” Zach pulled away, “These are my nice boxers.”
The redhead stood there, tired-eyed and unamused.
“Nice boxers? They look like your other boxers.”
“Yes, but they cost more. I forgot to wear the other kind… shit.”
“It’s nice to know you save the cheap boxers for me.”
“No, that isn’t it.” Zach drawled, “These are cotton. They soak in the smell, so I don’t wear them when we, you know.”
“You can predict when we…”
“No, but there’s always the probability…” an awkward pause, “…when you’re around. You know what I mean.”
Gentry looked to him with helpless exasperation.
“…What is the point of buying boxers you’re just---”
“You use them if you want to make an impression. They have better form.”
“How many people do you have to impress?” murmured Gentry, moving up behind him to kiss the back of his neck, “Me, your so-called boyfriend…”
Zach sighed, as Gentry’s hand traced down his stomach, and one finger dug into the waistline of his boxers to pull them down.
“…” Gentry paused suddenly, “This is new.”
“Don’t---ow.”
“What? Did I hurt you?”
“No... Just don’t touch that area.”
Gentry slid one arm under Zach’s right leg and eased it onto the table, then whispered in his ear, “Next time, wait until you actually have something to shave…”
“Hah, hah. Very funny.”
Gentry, who was never one to let off, nipped at his earlobe and whispered, “You’re becoming such a faggot.”
“Faggot?” Zach spat as Gentry positioned himself between his thighs, “You’re gay. Do I really need to point that out?”
Gentry cupped his mouth again, taking care to curve his palm so it wouldn’t hit the sore piercing.
“…No. But if you get a lisp, I won’t fuck you anymore.”
Zach bit him, which resulted in Gentry forcibly shoving him down against the table.
“No… biting.” he breathed in his ear, holding him down and pinning one arm behind his back.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 2
The flash went off, and Zach blinked the light from his eyes. Mikey eyed the picture of them close together, then said, “Again.”
Zach sighed and kissed him on the cheek, holding it in place while Mikey shot a second picture.
“Better?” he asked quietly, as he drew away.
Mikey stalled. He turned over the camera, leaned in, zoomed out, cocked his head then nodded curtly.
“Yeah. I’ll put this one on my blog.”
“All right.”
These days, Zach didn’t talk much to Mikey. But they still held hands, and once in a while he would even attend a GSA fundraiser. Logically enough, he deduced that Mikey was the good guy and victim here. What to do about it… well, he wasn’t sure. That gnawing in his gut told him to like him, to feel sorry for him. But fact was, he didn’t. And that made no sense, but yeah, that wasn’t the first thing in his life that didn’t make sense.
“You know,” Mikey murmured, still eying his camera display, “Kylie’s taking Gentry to the prom.”
Zach raised his eyebrows, and point-blankly asked,“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Gentry agreed to that?” he couldn’t help but snigger at the thought of it, although Mikey remained dead serious.
“Apparently.” He replied, as he briefly glanced up.
“Hey Mikey!” Casey called out, cruised between them. Kylie was at his heels, texting on her cellphone. She seemed as intent on ignoring Zach as Zach was on ignoring her. So perhaps Zach slept with Gentry, but that didn’t mean Gentry was gay. Maybe he was just curious or something, and Zach wasn’t so ugly (even though he wasn’t that hot, either.)
Zach had nothing to say to them, so he remained quiet. Mikey grinned, and just then put his arm around Zach’s shoulders.
“I didn’t see Zach at the GSA fundraiser last time. Hey Zach, why didn’t you show? You should have.”
Zach leered at him ripely, but Casey didn’t wait for a reply and simply lisped on, “Oh my God. Mikey, I just realized something. I don’t know if you’re planning on running for the Valedictorian or not. Are you? I mean, technically, you have enough credits to graduate early.”
“I am. Because yeah, I do.”
“Well, if you graduate the same year as I do, then Kylie will have to run the GSA.”
Mikey stalled, his lips gaping and eyes frozen.
“… oh.”
Casey laughed, “Yeahhh.”
Zach felt a pang of annoyance. Kylie as GSA President? Why didn’t he see that coming. Well, they'd earned it. Hah! She barely attended any of the meetings, she never ran a club, she didn't even hang up a single poster. That club was going down! Well, this was not a good thing. And it wasn’t the second time something in his life that didn’t make sense… but this time he was as angry about it as he was pleased.
“Mikey, I know you felt passionate about the GSA and all…” said Casey with a lengthy drawl, “but fact is, you’ll have to choose what’s more important. Graduating early, or sticking with the GSA.”
“I already sent out my college applications.” Mikey said in a softly, discreetly, “Why can’t Kylie take over?”
Casey, Mikey, and Zach stared at Kylie, who was now absent-mindedly chattering away on her cellphone a few feet away. Zach glared at Casey with a knowing “what were you thinking” look, which went unnoticed.
Mikey abruptly said, “Ok. Well, then I’ll just see if I win Valedictorian first. And then, depending on my college transcripts, I’ll decide if staying is worth it.”
“What about the club? Don’t you care about what happens to the gays here?” asked Zach, just a little meanly.
“Hm. Well, Zach, you’ll still be here… maybe you could stick around and show Kylie some— maybe we can promote you to secretary?”
“I don’t have the time.” Said Zach, flatly, “The club got along fine without me so far. Kylie won the position, and I’m sure that someone as capable as Kylie has no need for me.”
Mikey breathed a heavy sigh.
“Look, Casey. Zach. I care about gay rights. I’m going to fight for them in college, too. You know… I didn’t think about this. Didn’t we have someone else? What about Felix?”
Casey remained silent, so Mikey finally said,
“I’ll just wait to see if I got into Yale. If not, I’ll stay.”
Casey grinned, “Yeah, though something you might want to keep in mind— If you said you were head of the GSA in your college app, then you technically cheated.”
Zach sighed and kissed him on the cheek, holding it in place while Mikey shot a second picture.
“Better?” he asked quietly, as he drew away.
Mikey stalled. He turned over the camera, leaned in, zoomed out, cocked his head then nodded curtly.
“Yeah. I’ll put this one on my blog.”
“All right.”
These days, Zach didn’t talk much to Mikey. But they still held hands, and once in a while he would even attend a GSA fundraiser. Logically enough, he deduced that Mikey was the good guy and victim here. What to do about it… well, he wasn’t sure. That gnawing in his gut told him to like him, to feel sorry for him. But fact was, he didn’t. And that made no sense, but yeah, that wasn’t the first thing in his life that didn’t make sense.
“You know,” Mikey murmured, still eying his camera display, “Kylie’s taking Gentry to the prom.”
Zach raised his eyebrows, and point-blankly asked,“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Gentry agreed to that?” he couldn’t help but snigger at the thought of it, although Mikey remained dead serious.
“Apparently.” He replied, as he briefly glanced up.
“Hey Mikey!” Casey called out, cruised between them. Kylie was at his heels, texting on her cellphone. She seemed as intent on ignoring Zach as Zach was on ignoring her. So perhaps Zach slept with Gentry, but that didn’t mean Gentry was gay. Maybe he was just curious or something, and Zach wasn’t so ugly (even though he wasn’t that hot, either.)
Zach had nothing to say to them, so he remained quiet. Mikey grinned, and just then put his arm around Zach’s shoulders.
“I didn’t see Zach at the GSA fundraiser last time. Hey Zach, why didn’t you show? You should have.”
Zach leered at him ripely, but Casey didn’t wait for a reply and simply lisped on, “Oh my God. Mikey, I just realized something. I don’t know if you’re planning on running for the Valedictorian or not. Are you? I mean, technically, you have enough credits to graduate early.”
“I am. Because yeah, I do.”
“Well, if you graduate the same year as I do, then Kylie will have to run the GSA.”
Mikey stalled, his lips gaping and eyes frozen.
“… oh.”
Casey laughed, “Yeahhh.”
Zach felt a pang of annoyance. Kylie as GSA President? Why didn’t he see that coming. Well, they'd earned it. Hah! She barely attended any of the meetings, she never ran a club, she didn't even hang up a single poster. That club was going down! Well, this was not a good thing. And it wasn’t the second time something in his life that didn’t make sense… but this time he was as angry about it as he was pleased.
“Mikey, I know you felt passionate about the GSA and all…” said Casey with a lengthy drawl, “but fact is, you’ll have to choose what’s more important. Graduating early, or sticking with the GSA.”
“I already sent out my college applications.” Mikey said in a softly, discreetly, “Why can’t Kylie take over?”
Casey, Mikey, and Zach stared at Kylie, who was now absent-mindedly chattering away on her cellphone a few feet away. Zach glared at Casey with a knowing “what were you thinking” look, which went unnoticed.
Mikey abruptly said, “Ok. Well, then I’ll just see if I win Valedictorian first. And then, depending on my college transcripts, I’ll decide if staying is worth it.”
“What about the club? Don’t you care about what happens to the gays here?” asked Zach, just a little meanly.
“Hm. Well, Zach, you’ll still be here… maybe you could stick around and show Kylie some— maybe we can promote you to secretary?”
“I don’t have the time.” Said Zach, flatly, “The club got along fine without me so far. Kylie won the position, and I’m sure that someone as capable as Kylie has no need for me.”
Mikey breathed a heavy sigh.
“Look, Casey. Zach. I care about gay rights. I’m going to fight for them in college, too. You know… I didn’t think about this. Didn’t we have someone else? What about Felix?”
Casey remained silent, so Mikey finally said,
“I’ll just wait to see if I got into Yale. If not, I’ll stay.”
Casey grinned, “Yeah, though something you might want to keep in mind— If you said you were head of the GSA in your college app, then you technically cheated.”
Monday, September 1, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 1
Note: Thanks so much for the feedback!! :) I was very, very surprised... and excited!
“It is wrong to cheat.”
Gentry slouched in his seat, legs spread wide and fists on his stomach as he glanced over at Zach, who was apathetically hunched over his table. He jabbed him in the ribs with his pencil, at which Zach gave him a tired look and two raised eyebrows.
Every year the Principal gave all third period classes a presentation on cheating and gun control.
“Cheating gets you in big trouble,” he emphasized, folding his arms to show that this was a very serious point. His shirt was so starched it seemed to crinkle when he moved, neatly wrinkling under pressure. His somber creased brown pants fell loosely over his legs, but were far from baggy. He was proud that he had never had to iron them, because he always folded them when he came home. Folded them like new. Eventually he hoped to learn how to fold them like they did in the stores. Flawless.
“One time there was a girl, a Senior, who had made it into an Ivy League school. Her future looked very promising; until she cheated on an extra-credit assignment. Since the rubric said cheaters automatically get an F, she failed the course and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Her Ivy League school dropped her as a result of her Senior Transcript, and she spent a week crying in my office. So; do not cheat.”
Zach looked up from the penis he had been crudely sketching on his binder.
“Now. I would also like to cover the zero tolerance policy… no guns, no knives, nothing on that list you have all received. And as for knives, there was once a girl who brought a butterknife to school, and that was marked up onto her permanent record. So absolutely no knives, and definitely no guns.”
Zach raised his hand, and The Principal did his best to ignore it. But Zach ignored that he was being ignored, and asked,
“What about authority? Can’t authority be abused as a weapon?”
“Don’t talk back.”
Gentry eyed Zach’s penis drawing, then leaned over and wrote “BANG” over the tip.
“It is wrong to cheat.”
Gentry slouched in his seat, legs spread wide and fists on his stomach as he glanced over at Zach, who was apathetically hunched over his table. He jabbed him in the ribs with his pencil, at which Zach gave him a tired look and two raised eyebrows.
Every year the Principal gave all third period classes a presentation on cheating and gun control.
“Cheating gets you in big trouble,” he emphasized, folding his arms to show that this was a very serious point. His shirt was so starched it seemed to crinkle when he moved, neatly wrinkling under pressure. His somber creased brown pants fell loosely over his legs, but were far from baggy. He was proud that he had never had to iron them, because he always folded them when he came home. Folded them like new. Eventually he hoped to learn how to fold them like they did in the stores. Flawless.
“One time there was a girl, a Senior, who had made it into an Ivy League school. Her future looked very promising; until she cheated on an extra-credit assignment. Since the rubric said cheaters automatically get an F, she failed the course and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Her Ivy League school dropped her as a result of her Senior Transcript, and she spent a week crying in my office. So; do not cheat.”
Zach looked up from the penis he had been crudely sketching on his binder.
“Now. I would also like to cover the zero tolerance policy… no guns, no knives, nothing on that list you have all received. And as for knives, there was once a girl who brought a butterknife to school, and that was marked up onto her permanent record. So absolutely no knives, and definitely no guns.”
Zach raised his hand, and The Principal did his best to ignore it. But Zach ignored that he was being ignored, and asked,
“What about authority? Can’t authority be abused as a weapon?”
“Don’t talk back.”
Gentry eyed Zach’s penis drawing, then leaned over and wrote “BANG” over the tip.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)