" Yo , DeMarco, get up."
Carmine grunted, his eyes slowly peeking
open as something struck his leg, sending a sharp pain through his calf.
"What the fuck?"
The cluttered room was dark, clouds of
hazy smoke hovering in the warm air, muddying the view of the boy standing in front
of him. Carmine blinked a few times, each second like slow motion as blackness
obscured his vision before the unfocused scene once more came into view.
Inhaling deeply, the smoky air infiltrated
Carmine's lungs, the woodsy aroma of marijuana washing over his body. His eyes
drifted closed again as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.
"Get up!" the person said again,
raising their bare foot and kicking Carmine in the knee. "Lazy
bastard."
Carmine sat up and rubbed his blurry eyes,
trying to shake off the exhaustion that weighed him down. Glancing across the
room, he watched as his half-assed aggressor strolled to the only window and
shoved the makeshift curtain out of the way—a thick blanket, tacked there
to keep the sunlight from streaming in.
Grimacing, Carmine raised his hand to
block the blinding glare. "What the fuck?"
Laughter rang through the
room—familiar laughter—as the form approached him again. Carmine
stared at him, taking in the sight of the worn cargo shorts and dingy white
undershirt, the blue ball cap pulled down low on the boy's eyes.
Nicholas Barlow.
He was in Nicholas's bedroom in the house
out on Aurora Lake… that much Carmine knew… but how the hell he got there, or when for that matter, was beyond him. The last thing he remembered was… was… fuck,
he couldn't even remember. "What the fuck?"
Nicholas laughed again as he paused right
in front of him. "Is that all you know how to say?"
"No," he scoffed, running his
hands through his chaotic hair. "Christ, what did we do tonight?"
" Last night," Nicholas
corrected him, motioning toward the window. "It's daylight."
Carmine glared at the sunlight for a
moment. "Well, I don't remember shit from last night."
"Not surprised," Nicholas
muttered. "You were fucked up."
"I'm still fucked up," he grumbled,
climbing to his feet and swaying a bit. "How am I still high from last
night?"
"This morning," Nicholas
corrected him again, laughing some more. "You don't remember getting up an
hour ago and smoking?"
"No," he said. "Must've
been some good shit."
"It was."
"Got any more?"
"Not presently."
Carmine frowned, looking around as he
tried to clear his head and gather his wits. The room was a
disaster—clothes strewn everywhere, trash spilling over the can, empty
bottles cluttering the desk and every inch of shelf space. Certainly wasn't
anything out of the usual in Nicholas's room… it reminded Carmine of his own.
Probably why it was the only other place
in the world where he felt at home.
"Come on," Nicholas said,
slapping him on the arm. "It's already after four o'clock. The weekend
awaits."
"Saturday?"
"Friday," Nicholas said.
"Shit," Carmine muttered.
"Guess I missed school."
"You and me both."
It was fall, memory of summer long gone,
but the weather showed little sign of changing seasons. A perk of living in the
middle of No-Fucking-Where Carolina: already late October and it was still
sweltering during the day. Carmine had a hard time getting back into the
routine of normality, with school and homework and all the other shit society
expected from kids his age.
He would rather just sleep and fuck his
life away.
Carmine stumbled out of the room, wearing
yesterday's jeans and gray V-neck shirt, the sleeves shoved up to his
shoulders, his Nike's untied and flopping on his feet as he shuffled through
the house behind his friend. He plopped down at the kitchen table, the wooden
chair legs scratching the linoleum floor, as Nicholas got them both bowls and
slid them on the table with an open box of Lucky Charms. Carmine
unceremoniously poured some into his bowl, still trying to blink away the haze,
as Nicholas plopped down in the chair across from
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