Satan's Revenge by Celia Loren Page B

completely in the moment, lost in our bodies pressed against each other, the cold air and the warmth from the fire, the music drumming in the background.
    A burst of noise sounds from across the yard, and Marissa jerks her head up. We both look for the source—someone almost kicked over one of the other trash can fires.
    “Marissa!” someone calls from the crowd.
    “I better go,” she says with a smile. She bends her head to give me a final kiss and hops up, grabbing her PBR from her chair as she ambles away.
    I lean back in the chair and look up at the sky. The crescent moon is starting to glow above the trees, and I know I should get going, but I don’t want to leave.
    “Scott,” says Flint, appearing out of a group of people. I’m not sure when during my conversation with Marissa he left, but he beckons me with a nod of the head. “’Bout time for you to head out,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and walking with me back through the house. “You OK to get home?” he asks as we walk onto the gravel out front.
    “Yeah, I’m fine,” I reassure him. It’s true—I’m used to looking after myself.
    “Look, Scott, I wanted you to come here today to see that there’s a place for you in this world. All the guys out there, they’re all people who felt like they didn’t fit in everywhere else. You enjoy yourself?”
    “Oh, yeah…yes, sir,” I correct myself, not wanting to disrespect him.
    “Good,” he replies with a smile. “I think there could be a place for you in this club, but you’re still a kid. Fifteen, you said?”
    I nod. I feel a ball of hope and excitement build in my stomach. Belong to a place like this? I’ve never belonged anywhere.
    “Well, like I said, there could be a place for you here, but you need to make a life for yourself first. You need to become someone that brings value to the club, it can’t just be one-sided.”
    “How do I do that?” I ask, frowning.
    “Well, I can’t plan your life for you, but for me…I didn’t have the grades or the temperament for college either. Joining the military taught me how to be a man, strength, control.”
    “I want those things,” I say.
    “Look into it,” he advises. “I’m no recruiter, and I can’t lie to you, there are plenty of things about it that are fucking rough. And dangerous. But I promise you this, if you decide the military is the right path for you, there will be always be a home waiting for you here.”
    A home. Something I haven’t had since I was ten.
    “I will. Thank you.” I struggle to form the words for what I want to say. “I’m used to…I’m used to people giving me the minimum, only what they have to…it’s been a while since someone’s done anything more for me.”
    He nods and I think he really understands what I meant.
    I begin to walk back down to the bike.
    “Hey Scott,” Flint calls after me. I turn back around. “The military is pretty strict when it comes to police records. I’m just saying…keep yourself clean. Don’t get involved in anything that will jeopardize your chance for a future.”
    “I won’t. I’ll be careful,” I promise him. With a wave, he turns back into the clubhouse and I head down to the main road.
    I pull the bike from behind the tree and hop on. It creaks as I press down on the pedals, warming it up as I start back down the road. It’s about ten miles to the Ralstons’ house, and I take my time. I know they won’t be looking for me.
    As I pedal, I hear the crickets begin to chirp, their melody providing a constant background to my ride. The woods are dark on either side of me, and there aren’t any cars on the road. I think over what Flint said, and a calmness spreads through me. I had the best time today that I’ve had in as long as I can remember.
    It strikes me that most people don’t get to make conscious decisions about their future. Like the Ralstons, for instance. It seems like they just sort of wound up where they are, plodding