Pieces of Us by Margie Gelbwasser Page B

traces of ash.
    I kiss him, and he pushes me down on the hood of the car, pins my arms behind my head. Flash: Ethan holds my arms above my head with one arm while he strokes my side with the other. It will be okay. Sshh.
    But then Sasha’s breath is near my nose, and I breathe it in deep and I’m back at the car. Back under his weight. I let him take control. I melt into the car and escape.

Julie
     
    ~ The Chickens ~
     
    I t’s three days after Wild West City, and Wilbur’s truck squawks down the gravel path.
    I put on my flip-flops and pull a pair of shorts over my bathing suit. “You coming?” I say to Katie. I know she won’t, but I like watching her reaction when I ask. Always a look of disgust. But today, she doesn’t answer no right away. She actually seems to consider it.
    “Would it be weird if I came? Like, do you and Alex have a vibe going, doing some play-by-play or something?”
    I shrug. “I don’t know if you’d call it a ‘vibe,’ but yeah, sometimes it’s a cool spectator sport.”
    “Why?”
    I hear the truck squeal to a stop. The squawking gets louder, and I know he’s taking the crates out. They’re going to start and I’m getting antsy. “I don’t know. It’s something to do.” I think about it more because I know she wants a better answer. “Sometimes I like to see which one fights the hardest.”
    “Why? Does that make it taste better?”
    “Geez, Katie. I don’t know. Why the sudden interest?” Cages rattle. They’re starting. “In or out?” I ask, almost at the door.
    She sighs. “Tell Alex I said ‘hi.’ ” Then she opens the back door and heads to the swings.
    “Sure,” I call out. “You do the same with Kyle.” Because I know he will be there, too. And for some reason, knowing that both of them hate Wilbur bugs me.

Alex
     
    J ulie runs to the bench just as Wilbur grabs the first chicken’s neck.
    “What took you so long? Chickening out?” I crack myself up.
    “That’s a good one,” she says, rolling her eyes and doing an exaggerated slap on her leg. “No, your girlfriend was actually thinking of getting in on the fun.”
    Girlfriend. Does Katya call herself that? I don’t do girlfriends. But … “Oh yeah?”
    “Looked like it was actually going to happen, and then she, uh, chickened out.” Julie laughs. She’s wearing that stupid green suit again. If it weren’t for that, she’d actually seem a little cool.
    Wilbur slices the first chicken’s throat quickly. She barely squawks. Just falls right to the ground. He’s getting better.
    “Impressive,” says Julie. She fiddles with her bow, and it draws attention to her tits right below it. The summer’s feeling her. She’s tan now, and some chunk has moved from her waist up to her boobs.
    She takes her eyes off Wilbur and catches me looking. She raises her eyebrows. And something hits me then. She doesn’t believe in that same shit “code” that Katya does. I could hook up with her, and not only would she do it, but she wouldn’t tell Katya.
    Not that I would. I save my player mojo for the Philly whores, not Katya. But I store the info anyway.
    A chicken flies over our heads and I duck as blood sprays. “Fuck,” I say.
    Julie doesn’t even squirm, just looks toward the swings. What the hell is wrong with Kyle? If I was his age and there was someone as willing as Julie—and I can tell she so is—I’d be all over that. Shit, I’d even be all over it now.
    “What’s with your brother?” she asks, quietly, as another chicken falls to the ground. Wilbur curses as the blood squirts on his chin.
    “He’s a pussy,” I say.
    “Maybe, but he always has stuff to talk to Katie about.”
    I laugh. The thought is just too stupid. Like Katya would ever go for Kyle. “Probably because she doesn’t put the moves on him.”
    She looks at the swings again. “I guess.”
    “Seriously, little girl. You have nothing to worry about.” I grab my dick. “No girl can pass up on this.”
    Julie