Busted!

"Fuck-"

"Fuck..."

"Ah, fuck."

"Fuck!"

"Put it up your ass-"

"Put what up my ass?"

"In your crack-"

"What the-"

"They won't look for it there-"

"Fuck they won't-"

"Turn your fuckin' head around, man-"

"Sorry-"

"Two fuckin' gay ass white boys ridin' 'round with two niggas. We fucked, man!"

"Dudes! Shut the fuck up!" said Mark as he eased Donte's new CTS onto the shoulder, the police cruiser's disco ball of lights dancing in the rearview. "Listen to me. Put all your shit under my seat-"

"Mark-"

"No, seriously, dudes. Shove it all under there. And deny, deny, deny that any of it's yours-"

"Dude, that's a lot of shit-"

"How much back up you got, Donte?" Mark could see the outline of his friend's afro in the rearview, a black oval against the search light that turned night into day inside the car. He looked to Delonte's tight cornrows, neat bubbles covering his head. "Delonte? You?"

"Fuck, man, you don't-"

"Just shut the fuck up-"

A tap at his window. A gun in a holster, a hand on top, right at eye level. Mark rolled down his window, releasing a car-ful of pot smoke into the Cedarville dusk.

"You know why I pulled you over?"

"No, sir-"

"You were doing 52 in a 45-"

"Really?"

"Yes, sir. Can I see your driver's license and registration?"

"I don't have one-"

"Turn off the engine and give me the keys-" The cop pocketed them and Mark watched him walk back to his cruiser in the sideview.

Danny leaned over from the passenger side, his lips close to Mark's ear. "You don't have to do this-"

"He right, Mark. Dude, I can-"

"Will everybody just shut up? This is my decision. This is what's best."

"Fuckin' cops. I hate 'em. I wish I had my gat-"

"Okay, I need everybody out of the car." All four of them jumped at the sound of the cop's voice. "Keep your hands where I can see them and move real slow."

Mark looked back at the police cruiser as he stepped out of the car and saw that four more were behind it. A dog's furious barking met his ears through the blood swishing in and out of them. Fuck! Big time! He obeyed the cop and went to the front of the Cadillac with Danny while Donte and Delonte made their way to the back end. As they assumed their positions, the dog was let loose inside the car and began digging and yelping under the driver's seat.

The cop who'd pulled them over dropped three baggies and two pipes on the hood of the car and pointed at them. "Those yours?"

"Yep-"

"Really?"

"Yes, sir-"

"Nobody else's?"

"Nope. All mine. Nobody else even knew I had it in the car."

"Because those guys back there said it's all of y'all's-"

"No, they didn't-"

"Yes, they did-"

"Well, they're lying then-"

The cop narrowed his eyes into Mark's. "That's a lot of shit, boy-"

Mark shrugged.

"You're looking at a lot of time. Possession. With intent to distribute. At least 10 years-"

Mark looked away and sighed. "Yeah-"

"You know this car was reported stolen this morning-"

"Yes, I stole it-"

"Really, from where-"

"From wherever-"

The cop shook his head. "Stupid fucking white boy-"

Mark put his head down and nodded. Then looked back up at the cop and grinned. "You gonna arrest me or not?"

"Wait here." The cop walked back to Donte and Delonte and after a few gesticulations, sent them walking.

"Mark, you don't have to do this," said Danny.

"Listen. Yes, I do. They're my friends. Our friends. You know how much back up time they got? And being black? They'll never get out of jail. And for what? The same thing half these cops do in their spare time." He shook his head. "I'll be all right. We'll be all right. This'll be my first offense. I'll get probation or something. Sometimes, you just gotta do the right thing. And taking care of your friends is the right thing-"

"You can go," said the cop, pointing to Danny. "Start walking. And don't look back."

He turned Mark around, then frisked and cuffed him as roughly as a butterfly alighting on a flower petal. "I've got to get your info," he said, sliding Mark into the wide backseat of the police cruiser. He sat in the driver's seat and shook his head. "You know," he said, "half of us don't do the same shit in our spare time. And tell your friend Donte I wish he'd had his gat too-"

Relapse

The house was warmer inside than the evening was outside. And it was darker. And quieter. Except for his bedroom, which peeked around the corner upstairs through the light from his New York Giants lamp and almost muted the squawking of the springs of his bed. Mark breathed in a familiar sweet, plastic aroma and jumped up the stairs three at a time.

Sarah's back was to him, her greasy blonde hair stretched in tangles to her waist. She shifted again, her head fallen forward, as he stopped in his bedroom doorway.

"Mom, you okay?"

"I will be in a minute." She held both her hands up over her head.

"Mom, you shouldn't-"

"You shouldn't, you little fucker-"

"Language-"

"Fuck language-"

Sarah put the pipe to her lips, then the flame to the end of the pipe. Smoke gathered in the glass tube, then disappeared into her lungs, reappearing a minute later half of what it used to be. She patted the bed next to her until Mark's bony ass was firmly set on it.

"Flash-"

"Fuck him-"

"Mom, really, your language-"

"Fuck language, Mark. It don't matter what you do. Be good, go to church, don't cuss, don't smoke, don't drink, don't do nothing, and still you get fucked over all the same-"

"But you get to go to heaven when you die and it'll be all right-"

"Fuck heaven. And hell. There ain't no such thing as either-"

Mark giggled. "So what happened? More fighting?"

"He's a fucking meth head. Always was. Always will be. Why do you think he was so fucking hyper all the time? Walking faster than people run? Overcompensating with all that religion bullshit-"

"Amen-"

"Shut the fuck up, Mark-"

Mark giggled. He pointed to the pipe in his mother's hand. "You two could've done that together-"

"That's the problem. We're recovering-"

"You are-"

Sarah shook her head. "Well, we were. Or I thought we were. At least, I was-"

"That sucks-"

"Tell me about it. I come home today and he's smoking the shit right in the kitchen-"

"Yikes-"

"Don't make fun-"

"I'm not-

"I know-" Sarah laid the pipe and lighter on the bed and put one arm around Mark. "I'm just not gonna let people, I don't care who they are, talk about you the way he did-"

"Really?"

"Uh huh-"

"What did he say?"

"Let's just say he wrote his one-way ticket out of here with one word-"

"Whoa-"

Sarah turned to face Mark, resting her veiny hands on his smooth cheeks, and aimed her dilated pupils straight at his eyes. "Nobody talks about my boy like that. You hear me? You're my son, and I love you, Mark. Don't ever let anybody tell you any different." Her eyes blinked and fell to his lips. "You hear me?"

Mark nodded and wrapped his arms around his mother's waist as she squeezed him close to her. Then pushed her away as her lips puckered on his neck, her tongue tracing a small circle.

"Mom, I can't-"

Sarah's chin plopped onto her chest and her arms limped up by her sides as Mark left the room.

"You fucking faggot," she said.

What Was Yours?

Wait.

Don't go.

Wait.

Can I? Can I have another hour?

Do you remember? Remember when we first kissed? And you said you felt like you were home and I said I felt the same way? As if our tongues had been looking for places to rest and finally found their graves?

Can I? Can I have another minute?

Do you remember? Remember when I first touched your cock? And you said my fingers felt like the fur of a kitten and I said the skin of your cock felt like the surface of water? And then I sucked it and you said something about pretending God and Heaven exist but I didn't really hear you because you were in my throat and I was trying to force all of you into me? As if you would be my last meal before I stalked off to the chair?

Can I? Can I have another second?

Do you remember? Remember when we smiled at each other yesterday? And you said we would never die and I agreed and then you said that if we did it would be together just like in the movies? And how I thought about how you never betrayed me and how you were the only one who never betrayed me and the only one I think who ever loved me and how I never wanted to kill you and not even cut you and not even gloat when you writhed in pain from my teeth on your cock a little too tight? As if you were a gift I never wanted to open that would just sit on my lap and absorb my tears on the only Christmas I would ever have?

Wait.

Come back.

Wait.

Mark's eyes opened and he squeezed them shut to dry them. The voices of his mother and her boyfriend wafted to his ears through the drywall separating his bedroom from hers. He snaked his fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs, grasped his hard-on with the tips of his skinny fingers, and began to stroke, pre-ejaculate smearing the glans.

It is Written

"Donte called."

"Cool."

"And that boy Danny called."

"When?"

"A little while ago."

"How long ago?"

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes?"

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You were sleeping."

"So?"

"Who is this boy?"

"A close friend of mine. Why?"

"I don't know, it's just seems odd-"

"What seems odd?"

"That you're so close to someone you just met-"

"We've got a lot in common-"

"Like what?"

"Like we like a lot of the same things, music, books, and movies and stuff. And we have the same sense of humor- Why?"

"I don't know, he's just kind of-"

"What?"

"I thought he was a girl-"

"He's not-"

"Does he like girls?"

"Jesus Christ, Mom-"

"Language-"

"Language!"

"Dan, what do you think?"

"Well, The Bible is pretty clear-"

"Fuck The Bible!"

"Mark!"

"Sarah!"

"What the fuck? Somebody writes something in a fucking book and you believe it hook, line, and fucking sinker because you're afraid to die?"

"It's the word of God, Mark-"

"It's the word of a bunch of fucking dudes who hate you and me and everybody else and want to control every fucking thing we do."

"Language, Mark-"

"Language, Sarah!"

Mark looks around hurriedly, then makes his way to the counter, pulls out a sheet of looseleaf and a pen, scribbles like a meth machine. Then grabs a knife, shovels it through the sheet perpendicular to its faded blue lines, holds it above his head and slams the shivering blade into the center of the table, between his mother and her boyfriend.

And he walks out of the kitchen shrugging, "Then fucking believe this":

Truth/Beauty

Mark laid the stack of well-thumbed papers on his desk behind him, on top of The Day Doesn't Care, the latest book of poetry by his favorite poet, then turned to Danny, who sat opposite him on the bed. "I like your stories. I did notice that there're a couple different themes that seem to run through them-"

Danny sat up, pushing his face within inches of Mark's, his green eyes widening under his charcoal-black bangs.

"In all of your stories, you're the main character, and they all involve you saving the world while at the same time being on the run from somebody who wants your ass-"

Danny nodded, giggling, a hint of white teeth showing through his parting lips.

Mark laughed. "I mean, even in BE A MAN, BE A MONK!-"

Danny's nodding head increased its velocity.

"And you love alliteration-"

Danny's head steadied itself. "Well, you know, that represents the alliterativeness of the world. It mirrors Life's endless repetitiveness. If you notice, I really only use it-"

"In the parts where somebody's about to get your ass. Because everybody wants your ass, right?"

Danny smiled and stuck out his tongue.

Mark analyzed his mucous membranes for an unconscious second and realized they contained too much snot. So he sucked a handful down the back of his throat-

"Hold it!"

So Mark held it, resting the viscous, spinning mass on the back of his tongue. Until Danny's hand curved around the back of his neck, molded their lips together, and vacuumed it into his mouth. Danny leaned his head back and Mark watched Danny's Adam's apple undulate as he swallowed the biggest snotball Mark had mustered in months.

"It's almost as sweet as your cum-"

"Really?"

"Yeah, like the blood of Christ-"

"I'll give you the blood of Christ-"

Mark reached behind him without taking his eyes off Danny's, his little hard-on scratching his underwear, and reached into the top drawer of his desk. In one motion, he slithered off his T-shirt with his left hand as he clicked his straight razor open with his right. The blade slid mercilessly across his chest with a flick of his wrist, and he grabbed Danny's blackened hair in a fist, guiding the boy's quivering lips to his sliced nipple, where they slurped furiously. As the short, deep scar began to coagulate, he drew Danny's head back and tasted his own blood in his boyfriend's mouth.

"I want to taste all of you," gasped Danny.

"Well, you're not tasting my shit-"

"No, not that, that's not you, that's what you don't want as a part of you-"

Mark peeled Danny's shirt, pants, and underwear from his body and gulped his dick into his throat, the pre-ejaculate a welcome sting to his esophagus. A few minutes and Danny's hips began to jerk and he slinked up Danny's veiny body, smearing it with the remnants of his razor work, as Danny slid in the opposite direction, taking Mark's baggy jeans with him and grabbing his dick around its base.

"You're the only one who's never made fun of my dick-"

"Why would I?"

"Because it's so small-"

"But I love you and it's a part of you and if you really love somebody then you love every part of him-"

And Danny took Mark's cock and balls into his mouth in one swallow, as Mark's eyes welled for the first time in years.

Y.S.E. (You're So Emo)

1.

Have you ever seen someone so beautiful
That you wanted to die?
I could look at you forever and find
Something new every minute
That I’ve loved all the time.

2.

I was going to write you
A love song,
But then I remembered
You don’t love me back,
So I threw the paper away
And typed this instead.

3.

You won't remember my kiss
because you were asleep,
dreaming
of someone else
and not me.
But that's okay-
I dream too,
though
I don't mind admitting
it's just about you.

4.

If I went away
you could play
much better.

But that's assuming
you even care
one way or the other.

Danny lay across Mark's bed, his extra-small, blank, white T-shirt halfway up his hairless belly, his tight, low-slung black jeans slung lower with making himself comfortable, a ruffle of green boxers edging out above his belt. Mark watched him as he read his work, his eyes slipping underneath the looseleaf pages and down the boy's fatless length to the knot on the left side of his zipper, which mirrored his own, if a bit larger.

"Wow, you really must have loved...her?"

"Her?" Mark grinned until he saw a smile spread across Danny's face. "Yes, I was very much in love. Still am."

"Aww, that's sweet-"

"It's hell-"

"Yeah." Danny laid the sheets of paper between them on the New York Giants-clad comforter, then turned on his side toward Mark, his shaggy head resting on his hand.

"Because when I fall for somebody, I fall quickly and I fall hard and it's difficult for me to get back up-" Mark turned onto his side to face his friend, his poetry crumpling under him. "Do you know what I mean?"

Danny nodded. Then looked to Mark's lips. Then his neck. And his black T-shirt and white jeans. And back up. "I like that choker." He put a finger to it, pressing it into Mark's collarbone. "Is that real bone?"

"It's human teeth-"

Danny laughed.

Mark grabbed the inverted cross that hung from Danny's gold necklace. "This is pretty cool-"

Danny laughed again, going quiet as his eyes locked onto Mark's glaring irises.

Mark tightened his grasp on the cross. "You look so much like him-"

"I'm not him-"

"Good-" And he pulled Danny's face to his, their hungry lips crashing softly together.

The New Kid

"So you are from California?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Cedarville must be a bit of a culture shock for you then?"

"It's...different."

Mrs. Wright laughed. "Okay, today, we are working on our creative writing projects. I am going to need you to pair up with someone-"

"He can be my partner," said Mark, his hand raised.

A few giggles and a couple laughs came from the other 30 students in the room.

"What?" Mark looked around the room, grinning. "Just because I'll die for my art?" He shrugged.

"All right, Mark," sighed Mrs. Wright, laughing. She looked to her new student. "Mark is your partner. He will show you what we are doing. We just started this project a month ago and they are not due for another 8 and a half weeks, so you will have enough time. Especially with Mr. Dennison's guidance-"

The class' giggling was replaced by the scratching of desks and sneakers on the hardwood floor. Mark watched as the skinniest kid he'd ever seen approached him, 3 or 4 books gathered in one arm, his other hand brushing a thick swath of shaggy blackened hair out of eyes so green they looked as if someone had soaked them in a melted crayon. He put out his hand.

"I'm Danny."

"I'm Mark. Poet, provocateur, superstar-"

"I can tell." Danny laughed, flashing a set of perfect white teeth, the canines the same length as the rest, and a pair of dimples so deep they seemed to meet somewhere in the middle of his mouth. "Mrs. Wright seems nice-"

"She is. Very nice." Mark brought his voice down to a whisper and locked his eyes on to Danny's, whose didn't waver. "Be nice to her. Her son committed suicide-"

"Oh, shit-"

"Yeah, and what's worse is he killed his little brother first-"

"Holy fuck-"

"I know. And some people say he raped his dead body-"

"What the-"

"Shhh." Mark looked around. "Just be careful what you say around her. And me too. Maury was my best friend." Mark forced his eyes to swell with impending tears that would never come.

"Dude, I'm sorry-"

Mark shook his head. "It's okay. It's just that we never saw it coming, you know-"

"I understand-"

"Cool." Mark sucked in a gigantic portion of the room's air and let it out in a sigh. "So, we've got a project here-"

"Creative writing?"

"Well-" Mark stopped, staring into Danny's eyes for another 15 seconds. "You know what? You look so much like this friend of mine that I used to have, I feel like I'm talking to him from beyond the grave-"

"Maury?"

"No. Daniel. He was my best friend-"

"How'd he die?"

"He fell asleep smoking a cigarette, with his girlfriend beside him-"

"Wow-"

"Yeah, I know." Mark put up a hand. "Okay, enough morbidity. Here's the project: submit a rough draft of a short story or a novel in progress up to ten thousand words in length by the end of April. You can work on it as much as you want, of course, but we meet twice a week here in school to go over our work with each other to get feedback and criticism and whatnot. Mrs. Wright is going to submit the five best to agents and publishers in New York and see what happens. Also, she is putting together a literary mag for the school that will feature the 20 best entries in all her classes."

"That's cool. So what are you doing, a short story or a novel?"

"Neither. I'm working on a poetry collection-"

"Huh?"

"Dude," Mark grinned as he continued looking into Danny's eyes, which hadn't moved from his or blinked in the last 30 minutes, "I don't ever fucking do what I'm told."

Danny smiled, his dimples kissing his tongue. "I like you-"

"I like you too-"