Clay's Way by Blair Mastbaum Page A

me and I start sweating.  My body is going to melt in his arms.             
    Clay slides his hands down my shoulders and arms and pulls my T-shirt up over my head.  It pulls on my ears and makes them feel hot. 
                    I can smell my sweaty skin, exposed at last.  For once, I’m not embarrassed by how skinny I am.  It doesn’t matter.  This is more intense than anything I’ve ever done.  Nothing else will ever compare.  My ribs rise and fall as I breathe.  The hair on my legs looks sexual.  I feel like I’m floating above the bed, unable to feel all of this.   
                    He pulls off his T-shirt.  He looks like an amazing sculpture, like the one in Waikiki of Duke   Kahanamoku, the first modern surfer.    His blue boxer’s waistband rides a couple inches above his shorts, which tent up in front.
                    I can’t believe I’m allowed to touch him.  I lick his chest and I can taste his skin, still salty from surfing.
                    He pushes me onto the bed.

Chapter 8
     
    Gusty cold storm winds
    Blow off the remaining buds.
     
    Summer’s spell is sweet.
                                                                                 
                  Clay rolls off me, smiles, and rests his head on the pillow.  “I’m sorry I hit you.”  He closes his eyes like he’s going to sleep.   
                    I crawl up in his bed, under the covers, into his warm, sleepy world.  I hear a strong gust of wind.  Leaves fly into the screen on the window and I smell the healthy scent of oncoming rain.  The rain excites me.  “Clay?”
                    He moves a little and pulls the pillow over his head.  “Huh?”
    “What’s going on?  What are you thinking?”
                    “I’m tired.”  He tells me this like nothing happened between us.
                    “OK.”
    I get up, try to put my shorts on, and fall on my face.
                    “Dumb shit.”  Clay laughs and goes under the covers. 
                    I walk over to his lizard’s aquarium.  It’s a Jackson chameleon--neon-green with huge eyes, a permanent smile, and a broken tail.  They live in the wet parts of the island.  Clay probably caught it himself while hiking the   Koolaus.  The lizard’s face looks like Clay’s when he sleeps.  I walk over to the dresser where there’s a photo of Tammy.  I flip her off and put the photo face-down.   Next to it, I find a photo of Tammy and Clay.  He’s shirtless in front of a waterfall. 
    I stick it in my pocket.
    Lightening crackles in the distance, followed by booming thunder far away.
                    “I   gotta   go.  I   gotta   mow my yard.”
                    He sticks his hand out from the covers and gives me a   shaka   sign.
                  I was hoping for “I love you.  Let’s kill everyone, so it’s just us, and hide away together and have sex and stare at each other till we die.”
    But, hey, at least he acknowledged me.
    I strap my pack on and take a skateboard from out front of Clay’s house and throw my bike in his carport.  I have to leave something here as proof that today happened.  I throw the old, beat up board down on the street,   take   a couple steps back, then run forward and jump on the board, flying down the hill faster than I’ve ever dared to before.  I’m out of control, and I don’t care.  Clay’s protecting me now.  I look straight up as I roll down the hill.  The sky is getting darker.  It’s going to rain soon.  I skate home down the centerline of the   Kamehameha   Highway.  Cars honk and barrel around me, but I’m not scared.
    I get home and start mowing the backyard.  My dad’s inside doing a