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“Giveit to me.”Igrab him around the waist and throw him easily into the dirt, straddling him untilIcan rip the car out of his fingers.
“That’ssupposed to be my memory of my mom, you whore,” he pants, struggling pointlessly.Idon’t even have to work to hold him still.SometimesIforget how much strongerIam, and the feeling does weird things to my head.Insteadof easing upIlean on him harder, until he goes still except for his fast breathing.
He’sgrinning when our eyes meet, but the longer neither of us look away, the more his smile fades.Heswallows, and maybeIimagine his gaze flicking down to my mouth for a fraction of a second.OrmaybeIdon’t.Ican’t quite remember how we got here, with his wrists pinned in my hands and my legs hooked around his to keep him helpless.
Shakingmy head,Ilet go of him and scramble backward.Mydick aches a little asIwatch him sit up, andIwonder what his dick looks like, how it feels when he’s turned on.I’veseen him mostly naked, but never all the way.
Idon’t know what my damn brain is doing right now.
“Here.”Ihold the truck out, warm and sharp in my palm, and he takes it carefully.MaybeIdidn’t know her long enough to be sure, butIthinkMomwould love him, with his quiet, hippie-ish ways and his wise brain.She’dbe happy to see him cradling the same car she gave me such a long time ago.
Dalsmiles at me like he can read my mind, but there’s a wall behind his eyes that wasn’t there two minutes ago. “Theguys will be back any minute.”
“Wecan build an even bigger track at home,”Ioffer, getting up and pulling him to his feet.Weboth take a minute to brush dirt off our clothes, but it’s a hopeless task. “Everyonecan help.Andyou’re gonna pay a mechanic to take the nitro switch out of your car, because that shit’s officially banned.”
“Maybeyou’re the one who needs to take it up a notch, coward.”Hebangs his shoulder into mine as we walk back toward the road.Idon’t know which one of us initiates it, but our fingers feel warm and gritty with dirt as they lock together.Hisshampoo wafting under my nose smells like lilacs and sun.Allmy dreams are scented with it, the good ones and the nightmares, ever sinceIfirst invited him onto my futon.
“Oh,”Dalpipes up after a minute. “Icalled the store.Ihave an interview onFriday.”
Myfeet slow down until he glances up at me. “Noshit, really?Lookat you.”
Heducks his head a little bashfully.Hisface is still flushed, and he has a big smear of dirt down his nose.Thosedeep, dark eyes meet mine again, and we both stare for a moment.
“Thankyou,Beck,” he says suddenly. “Foreverything.”
Hesqueezes my hand tighter, then slips his fingers away and jogs toward the road.I’mnot a smart guy, andIdon’t know a lot, butI’llnever understand why his mom didn’t burn the entire world down to get him back.Becausehe’s the only perfect thing there is.
* * *
Wecan hearTubbsbarking inside the house before we’ve even pulled into the long driveway. “Uh-oh,”Scoutmurmurs, turning off theKidzBopUltimateHitsCDhe put in the disc player for a joke two years ago and couldn’t get out again.Wesuperglued an old bluetooth speaker to the dashboard so we can play music on our phones, but sometimes when we’re feeling lazy we go back to “Partyin theUSA”sung by twelve year olds.
Scoutpulls up to the side of the house and cuts the engine.Wedon’t need to go looking for the disturbance, because there’s a person sitting on our back step, staring at us. “Whatthe hell?”Dallasmurmurs, glancing at me likeIhave an answer.
Iget out first, wishingIhadn’t left my gun inside, and step forward so thatI’mbetween the stranger and my friends. “What’syour problem?Thisis our property.”
Thefigure sits up, andIrealize it’s just a little kid in black cargo shorts and a hoodie.Hecan’t be more than twelve, with fluffy, uncut brown hair and big ears that stick out too far.Hiseyes widen a little when he sees my muscles and tattoos, but he stands up and squares his small shoulders aggressively. “Wellthat’smycat.”Hepoints past me, andIturn around to seeRomanholding the cardboard box withRambopeeking over the edge. “Icame to get him back.”
Iblink at him, then narrow my eyes.Theblind, out-of-control fury from whenIsawDallasbleeding boils up in my gut. “Holdon.Areyou the one who–”
“Ithink you’d better come in for a minute,”Scoutsays smoothly, cutting past me and shooting me a look that saysif you can’t be cool, stay the fuck outside.
“Ineed to go,” the kid protests, eyeing us uneasily as his hands curl into fists at his sides. “Giveme my kitten back.”
“Maybeyou shouldn’t have a kitten if you’re gonna leave it in the road,”Scoutcalls over his shoulder as he disappears into the kitchen.OnceDallas,Roman, and the box follow him inside, the boy shoots me a defiant look and runs after them.Ireally don’t know ifIcan be cool, but there’s no wayI’mleavingDallaswith someone who attacked him.
Bythe timeIget to the kitchen,Tubbsis pacing and whining at the closed door to the living room.Scoutmust have decided that a strange child, a kitten, and an agitated two-hundred pound dog was too much at once. “‘Scuseme, sorry buddy,”Imumble, sliding through the door while he gives me the mother of all dirty looks.Weboth want to be the top guard dog in this family, so we don’t always get along except whenIlet him into my bed to eatLuckyCharmswith me onSaturdaymornings.
“I’mCalvin,” the kid announces in a high, clear voice. “Thanksfor feedingHobbes, butI’lltake him back now.”
Ihuff a laugh without meaning to. “That’spretty good.”Roman, perched on the arm of the couch with his box, cocks his head.ScoutandDallaslook blank.
“Hobbes.”Iwave a hand at the kid’s scrawny form. “CalvinandHobbes.Theboy with the tiger and the box that turns them into shit?”
Allthree guys look at me likeI’velost my mind, untilCalvinpipes up. “TheTransmogrifier.”
Ipoint at him. “Thankyou.”ThenIrememberI’msupposed to hate him. “Excuseme, you fucking stole from us.”
Tomy surprise, he tips his chin up and meets my eyes solemnly with his pale brown ones. “I’msorry.Ididn’t want to, butIdidn’t have a choice.”
