Page 39 of The Wicker King

“Gordie was looking for you,” Roger said quietly.

They talked well enough when the three of them were alone, but he could already see Roger shutting that down in public—with Peter following his lead, as if in sympathy.

“We have to go now. But good luck,” Roger murmured.

“Try not to fuck up things while we’re gone.” Peter sniffed as they walked past.

Yeah, whatever.

FINE FIERCE FIFTH

Gordie found him between fourth and fifth periods. “Missed you,” she said, pushing him into the unused teachers’ bathroom on the third floor.

He took her shirt off in a flurry, the two of them scrambling into a stall near the back. She sucked him off like they did this every day, then rode his fingers. Gordie laughed and said that his hair tickled her face as he kissed her neck. She squirmed in his arms with delight when they had finished, and called him pretty.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said with a smile. “Get to class, you delinquent.”

August watched her go, then wiped his hand on his jeans.

RUCK AND MAUL

“Where you been, man?”

“Nowhere. I’ve just been working through some stuff.” August heard them before he saw them. Jack’s friends had him backed against the lockers. “Are you joining cross-country with us during the off-season?”

“No. I can’t. I’m busy.”

“But Coach needs you, man! We’ve gotta stay in shape between seasons.”

Jack looked up sharply and spotted August before August could duck back around the corner. Jack looked directly at him and said: “I’m not going to be there next season. So I don’t need to join cross-country this season. I have to go.” Then he pushed his way through his ex-teammates and walked down the hall.

“What do you mean, you’re not playing next season?!” August asked as Jack passed.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s go.”

OCIMUM BASILICUM

August decided to go over to Jack’s after school to cook him some food. He didn’t know how to make much—just basic things like chili and grilled cheese and stuff. But Jack needed a home-cooked meal. Jack’s parents hadn’t been home in weeks. Hadn’t been home since before Christmas. Their mail was so piled up under the mail slot, August briefly considered just shoving it all into a garbage bag and throwing it in their bedroom. It made him angry.

So here he was, trying his best to make a lasagna from instructions on the box.

Jack walked into the kitchen, leaned against the doorframe, and watched him quietly. August tossed a glance at him over his shoulder, but neither of them said anything. He felt Jack watching as he laid the noodles in a dish and poured sauce over them, then laid more down and spread the shredded cheese, arranging everything until he was satisfied. Then he slid the dish into the oven.

“I wish you could live here with me.” It was almost a whisper.

August washed his hands in the sink and dried them roughly with a dish towel. “I can’t. You know I can’t. My mom, she—”

“I know. It was a wish, August.” Jack finally moved from his spot near the door. He sat down at the kitchen table and held his head in his hands. “Why won’t they come back?”

“I don’t know,” August said firmly. “You have to stop thinking about it. You’ll destroy yourself. After dinner, we’re going to the river.”

August walked out of the kitchen so there was no room for argument.

VASSAL

Before they could reach the water, Jack slipped his hand into August’s. He did it without asking. With confidence. Like it was meant to be there. August was pulled—complacently at first, then under wild protestation—right into the river. Pulled him in with their clothes still on and the water still rushing. So cold that it was but a mile and a minute from ice.

Jack pulled him in almost to his chest, then rested his head in the curve of August’s neck. “What would you do for me?”