fees?”
The man explodes. “Yeah, rental fees!” he shouts at me. “For using my facilities. How many times are we going to go over this?”
Wiping spit from my face, I take a step back. “What are you talking about?” I ask. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“Oh no?” he says.
“No.”
I really don’t expect what happens next: Mr. Guise lunges for me. Grabbing me by the front of my sweatshirt, he yanks me toward him.
Eyes stinging from whiskey fumes, I feel totally helpless.
“Are you jerking my chain, son?” he demands, lips tight against those awful teeth. “Because if so, you’ll be sorry for it!”
“Let go!” I yell at him, almost retching from the assault of his breath. “Let go of me!”
Surprisingly, he does, but unfortunately he does it with a violent shove. I’m sent sprawling, and I land flat on my back, the impact knocking the wind out of me. Through stars like I’m a cartoon character, I see the man hover above me, jabbing the air with a finger.
“You spoiled little jerks think you can use my property and get away with it?” he shouts. “That you can sneak in here at night and have parties or whatever you please? Well, you made a deal. And either you pay up or I’m getting the law involved. Do you hear me?”
Still lying on the road, I flinch as the park owner unleashes a kick at my face. But he stops midway, sending up a cloud of dirt and rocks instead. Half blind and sputtering, I can hear him laughing at me. I scramble to my feet and take off.
“Run, little boy!” Mr. Guise calls after me. “Run back to your mama!”
I don’t stop until I hit the main road. By then I am completely out of breath. I know I’m not the fittest guy in the world to begin with, but both the accident and the stint in the hospital seem to have really taken it out of me. My lungs are burning, and I can’t get enough air. I try and try, but it feels like I’ve got a plastic bag over my head.
My vision begins darkening, and I know I’m going down.
I’m in the black place again, where I was stuck after I went over the falls. And I’ve missed being here, I find. Everything is quiet, and there is nothing to worry about. I feel like maybe this time I could happily stay forever.
A loud noise startles me. It’s a car horn, blowing hard. My eyes open, and I look up. Crying out, I roll onto the shoulder of the road. A set of tires whooshes by, no more than a foot from my head.
The driver doesn’t stop, though, or even slow down. How long was I lying in the road? Because that was too close a call to even consider.
The memory of my abuse at the hands of Mr. Guise returns, making me feel humiliated. That filthy drunk. I start fantasizing about coming back for him with the gun. I imagine myself jamming the weapon under his chin before knocking him to the ground.
He would deserve it.
I start heading home. I make only about a minute’s progress before there’s more honking, this time behind me. Jumping in fright, I almost dive into the bushes to get out of the way.
In a cloud of dust, the car—a sporty little silver compact—comes screeching to a halt beside me. A tinted window rolls down. Ivy’s grinning face appears. She’s leaning over the passenger seat. I can see down her shirt, into a dark recess of cleavage.
“What, did I scare you?” she asks, laughing.
“Actually it’s not funny,” I tell her irritably. “I almost got run over a few minutes ago.”
“That’s because you’re a total spaz, my friend.”
“Ha-ha.”
Annoyed as I am, I can remember how those bright red lips felt the other night, working their soft magic on my face and neck. I’m shocked to realize that they were the first real kisses I’ve ever had in my whole life—other than the pecks from the uninterested girl during a game of spin the bottle years ago, the girl whose boobs I was also obliged to touch in a closet.
Ivy’s mouth felt pretty different, all right.
“Get in, little boy,” Ivy
The man explodes. “Yeah, rental fees!” he shouts at me. “For using my facilities. How many times are we going to go over this?”
Wiping spit from my face, I take a step back. “What are you talking about?” I ask. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“Oh no?” he says.
“No.”
I really don’t expect what happens next: Mr. Guise lunges for me. Grabbing me by the front of my sweatshirt, he yanks me toward him.
Eyes stinging from whiskey fumes, I feel totally helpless.
“Are you jerking my chain, son?” he demands, lips tight against those awful teeth. “Because if so, you’ll be sorry for it!”
“Let go!” I yell at him, almost retching from the assault of his breath. “Let go of me!”
Surprisingly, he does, but unfortunately he does it with a violent shove. I’m sent sprawling, and I land flat on my back, the impact knocking the wind out of me. Through stars like I’m a cartoon character, I see the man hover above me, jabbing the air with a finger.
“You spoiled little jerks think you can use my property and get away with it?” he shouts. “That you can sneak in here at night and have parties or whatever you please? Well, you made a deal. And either you pay up or I’m getting the law involved. Do you hear me?”
Still lying on the road, I flinch as the park owner unleashes a kick at my face. But he stops midway, sending up a cloud of dirt and rocks instead. Half blind and sputtering, I can hear him laughing at me. I scramble to my feet and take off.
“Run, little boy!” Mr. Guise calls after me. “Run back to your mama!”
I don’t stop until I hit the main road. By then I am completely out of breath. I know I’m not the fittest guy in the world to begin with, but both the accident and the stint in the hospital seem to have really taken it out of me. My lungs are burning, and I can’t get enough air. I try and try, but it feels like I’ve got a plastic bag over my head.
My vision begins darkening, and I know I’m going down.
I’m in the black place again, where I was stuck after I went over the falls. And I’ve missed being here, I find. Everything is quiet, and there is nothing to worry about. I feel like maybe this time I could happily stay forever.
A loud noise startles me. It’s a car horn, blowing hard. My eyes open, and I look up. Crying out, I roll onto the shoulder of the road. A set of tires whooshes by, no more than a foot from my head.
The driver doesn’t stop, though, or even slow down. How long was I lying in the road? Because that was too close a call to even consider.
The memory of my abuse at the hands of Mr. Guise returns, making me feel humiliated. That filthy drunk. I start fantasizing about coming back for him with the gun. I imagine myself jamming the weapon under his chin before knocking him to the ground.
He would deserve it.
I start heading home. I make only about a minute’s progress before there’s more honking, this time behind me. Jumping in fright, I almost dive into the bushes to get out of the way.
In a cloud of dust, the car—a sporty little silver compact—comes screeching to a halt beside me. A tinted window rolls down. Ivy’s grinning face appears. She’s leaning over the passenger seat. I can see down her shirt, into a dark recess of cleavage.
“What, did I scare you?” she asks, laughing.
“Actually it’s not funny,” I tell her irritably. “I almost got run over a few minutes ago.”
“That’s because you’re a total spaz, my friend.”
“Ha-ha.”
Annoyed as I am, I can remember how those bright red lips felt the other night, working their soft magic on my face and neck. I’m shocked to realize that they were the first real kisses I’ve ever had in my whole life—other than the pecks from the uninterested girl during a game of spin the bottle years ago, the girl whose boobs I was also obliged to touch in a closet.
Ivy’s mouth felt pretty different, all right.
“Get in, little boy,” Ivy
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