NaNoWriMo 2012

I'm doing the NaNoWriMo thing again this year. I start it a lot of years and some years I finish it. I turned my 2010 NaNoWriMo novel into a book that's getting good reviews on amazon.com and this book takes place in the same town with some of the same people about a month later. 

No, that's not the pitch for the book. That's an indication it's part of a small series of books that are related to each other. I'm not sure if I'd call it a trilogy yet. I don't know that it's got the right arc for a trilogy. It may be more of a series in that the setting and people are in common but the story arc isn't so much interrelated.

Writing without getting anything written

In 2010 I wrote a story for National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo, an annual "write a book in a month" thing that I like to participate in. I liked the story I wrote. I liked it a lot. But, it needs some work done on it. Every reader who was kind enough to read it as I wrote it or after it was done agreed that the ending felt rushed. Initially I tried explaining that I meant for it to end a) quickly and b) without resolution to some of the bigger things. I'd written it on purpose as an open-ended story where the characters changed and grew and we got to know them and they got to know each other but the setting they were in wasn't the thrust of the story. Sort of like how you can have The Sound of Music without knowing how the war ended. They were there, and it was there story and big things were happening around them and while they may have some small part in the things going on around them they weren't big time operators... they couldn't actually change what was happening in a big way.


I still feel like that. But the readers didn't like it at all. That doesn't mean I'm right and I picked bad readers. It means I need to fix it so that within the context of my over all goal of smaller story within a bigger story, they still feel like there was a story arc with a beginning middle and end that is satisfying without knowing how the bigger story around them winds up. 


So, I've been looking at the story a lot. I've been proof reading it and getting my head back into the space where it was when I wrote the thing in the first place. I've changed some lines, some paragraphs, and I've deleted whole chunks of it that didn't add to either story but were, truth be told, probably written as a way to hit the 50k mark in NaNoWriMo. Some of the stuff was color, and some of it was padding, some of it was stuff I'd written early on intending to use later but hadn't gotten back to. Snipping loose ends or tying them off better kind of work. I call myself writing. But I'm not getting much actual writing done. I can't call it editing yet because this is supposed to be a rewrite. I've never done a rewrite before though, certainly not on something so expansive. 


So, I call myself writing without getting anything actually written. I think I need to stop talking about writing, stop fiddling with the damned thing and FINISH it and THEN I can fiddle with it and proof it and edit it. Until then I'm just putting off the writing... like I am now by writing this.

NaNoWriMo 2011 - The Beginning

NaNoWriMo starts today. I probably won't post the whole thing on here but here's what's done so far. 
"I'll fix it." Steve slammed the phone onto the table and then flipped it over to look at the screen and make sure he hadn't broken it like he had his last one. "I swear they're stupid on purpose!" He pushed himself away from the table and stalked into the living room leaving his family sitting at the table in silence.
His wife, Julie frowned down at her plate before sighing and taking a drink of water and looking to Sandy their sixteen year old daughter and asking, "How did you do on your English paper? Have you heard yet?"
"What?" Sandy looked across the old oak table at her younger brother, younger by minutes but those minutes count to older twins, "We're going to pretend that didn't just happen?"
"What didn't just happen?" her mom asked.
"Not only did he answer the phone at the table he got up and left. We can't do that! How is that even fair?" Sandy had lost her phone for a week only two days prior when she'd answered it at the table during dinner. The fact that it had been her brother who had pocket dialed her, entirely by accident he insisted didn't do anything to change her mom's mind about the punishment. She'd been a complete jerk in Sandy's opinion since she started watching all those Nanny 911 shows on TV.
“Don't start Sandy. He has to take calls from work. It's not like it's one of your little friends.”
Jim closed his eyes at the phrase “little friends.” He heard his sister's fork clatter against her plate.
“May I be excused. I've got homework to do.”
Jim opened his eyes and looked at his sister in surprise. Her lips were thin, and she stared at him, not looking at anything else in the room. He tried to smile back but he knew she wasn't seeing him. She was waiting for permission to leave and just beneath her frozen face was an explosion waiting to happen if it wasn't given.
His dad walked in then, took in the scene and said, quickly, hoping to be out before the explosion he could see building happened. “I have to run to the office. I'll be back shortly. I can't remote in, they upgraded the firewall and it's locked everybody out. You can update it remotely evidently but you can't get through to manage it once you do.” He talked his way across the room and out the door.
“Fine! Might as well.” His mom's voice was exasperated. “Just try and have a nice family dinner and off he goes to do God knows what with a computer and his family sits here waiting.” Nobody was listening though. Her litany of complaints had gotten longer lately and had become a sort of background noise they lived their lives surrounded by. Sandy left the table and went up to her room, stomping her way up the stairs as if she were trying to drive her heels through the floor. Jim finished his hot ham and cheese sandwich and stood up. Dinner obviously over. He cleared his and his sister's dishes, leaving his dad's unfinished plate sitting across from his mom.
It sat there accusingly as she stared at it, unmoving before she pushed herself to her feet and cleaned up after dinner, throwing the food away and loading the dishes in the dishwasher. She'd seen families on TV that had sit-down dinners. She'd grown up with sit-down dinners where the whole family gathered around and talked about their day. She'd wanted that. She'd been trying for that but she was doing something wrong because it kept not working. She stood with her hands on the edge of the sink and stared out into the spring  evening. The sky was orange and pink. She started when she felt Jim's hands on her shoulders. “Thanks for supper. It was good.”
She turned around and he was smiling at her weakly.
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“Can I go to Josh's?” He asked her.
“Did you just compliment my cooking to get me to agree to go to Josh's house?”
“Did it work?” He asked still smiling.
“How're you getting there?” She asked.
“I'll take my bike. It's got gas.”
“I don't like you riding that thing after dark. They're dangerous enough in the day time.”
“Mom.” His voice was whiny and he knew it, “I'm an excellent rider. I'll wear my helmet. I'll stop at stop signs, even the dumb ones. I'll call when I get there and when I leave to come back.”
“OK. No racing, and no passengers.”
“Deal... and Mom?”
“What do you want?”
“Supper really was good.”
“Go. You're just being smooth.”
“I can't help it. I try but there's just so much charm it leaks out.” Jim said as he went through the door connecting the kitchen to the garage. He pulled on his riding jacket with it's kevlar armor built into the back and arms. His gloves were in his helmet and he pulled those on as well. He'd seen road rash from motorcycle accidents and would rather have too much protection than not enough even if what he was going to be riding was only a scooter.
When he hit the remote to open the garage door and walked his bike out with his helmet on already his sister was standing there waiting for him, wearing her helmet. “Take me to Chris' house.”
“You're grounded,” Jim pushed his face shield up and looked up at the open window over the garage's roof. “Did you jump off the roof?”
“Yeah. I know I'm grounded. Take me to Chris'. If you don't I'll just walk.”
“I thought you two broke up.” He was sure they'd broken up after an argument over whether or not he could decide who she hung out with. Chris was a controlling asshole and Jim didn't like him at all, and hadn't liked him since they'd been in 4th grade together and Chris had kissed his sister at a football game behind the concession stand.
“We're not going to date. I'm just going over to get some stuff I left over there. I'll be back before you and before Mom notices I'm gone.”
The black scooter,  bounced and settled as she climbed on putting her hands on his shoulders. He started  and left, turning right so he wouldn't pass in view of the front of the house. It was longer that way but if his mom saw him with a passenger, especially his grounded sister after sunset he'd be lucky to leave the house for a month. His parents were stricter than most and part of him knew he was only as grounded as he let them make him. But the idea of ignoring them seemed so foreign to him he couldn't believe it when he'd see his friends talk back to their parents or ignore them. Three blocks later he pulled to a stop in front of the brick ranch style house and his sister climbed off and handed him her helmet. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Be careful with him. He's an ass.”
“He just comes across that way. He's really not.”
“That's what ass means! It's how a person comes across. You either are an ass or you're not, and he's an ass.” He clipped her helmet to the back of the seat using a caribiner and a bungie cord. “Seriously. Be careful. Call if you need anything.”
“I'm on phone restriction remember?”
“Yeah you're not. There's either a pay-as-you-go phone in your pocket or you've started smoking and I don't think it's a pack of cigarettes. I'd smell it on you.”
“By mom. Quit worrying.”
He gave her the finger and a smile as she walked up the drive. When the door opened and she went inside he pulled away from the curb, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. As he came up to a four way stop and slowed down, half a block ahead of a truck, he looked, saw that he would make it as they slowed for the sign, and gave the bike gas. The truck didn't stop, or even slow down for the sign and blared it's horn as it passed within a foot of his rear tire. In his panic he gripped the right handle of the bike, the throttle, and the bike shot forward and up a driveway onto the sidewalk. If he had been a more experienced motorcyclist he would have released the throttle or squeezed the clutch. Instead he steered as best he could, riding the length of the block on the sidewalk before he dropped off the curb into the street, crossing the light traffic causing horns to blare and into the entrance to St. Paul's Cemetery where he hit a patch of gravel and dumped the bike. Finally he let go of the throttle and rolled across the grass, coming up short smacking his helmet on a headstone.
He lay there afraid to move, trying to tell without moving if anything were broken. Nothing felt broken but he wondered if he were in shock if he would know. He'd seen too many videos on youtube of ankles broken and feet pointing the wrong way or bones sticking out of legs to want to see that on himself. He opened his eyes slowly and saw, in the reflection of his helmet's face shield what looked like a tv screen, small, distant, and faint, his sister sitting on a bed talking to Josh. He couldn't hear them but he could see them, as he lay there watching wondering if he had brain damage causing a hallucination, the picture got bigger, filling the face shield completely, but still faint, as if reflected. He could see the night sky over his head, the dark blue of the sky in the fading light and the black of the tree branches over his head  the dark blue of the sky in the fading light and the black of the tree branches over his head.
Sandy was angry. She'd done the thin-lipped look again. She stood up suddenly and crossed to the window, the window that Jim's point of view indicated he was watching through. When she looked down he could see that a car was backing out of the drive as a pick up truck, the one that had almost hit him pulled up beside the car. Two of Chris' friend's from school, Steve and Rob got out, laughing. He could see them laughing but couldn't hear anything. He looked back at Sandy and saw her pushing past Chris towards the door. He stepped towards the door, blocking it with his body so she couldn't open it.
His smile was phony, even through the reflection. Jill's anger wasn't though. Jim pushed himself up to a seated position and felt dizzy, the weird reflected vision was gone now and around him the cemetery seemed to sway back and forth in front of him. He couldn't see his bike and the sky overhead wasn't dark blue any more. It seemed more silver or gray like a fog was settling down on him. He rolled over and tried to push himself up on all fours to pull himself up using the headstone he had crashed against. He saw, coming out of the grass and ground wisps of fog coming up. The air was cooling fast. He pulled himself up and stood unsteadily looking for his bike. He was only a few blocks from Chris' house.
Two unsteady steps back the way he had come and he was overcome with vertigo. He reached out and put his hand on a tall headstone. He pulled his helmet off and dropped it on the ground. It crunched in the gravel. He looked down at it confused momentarily. In the face plate he saw another reflection, not his sister this time. It looked like his mom in the master bathroom and someone, how could he see through walls? How could he see any of this? Someone was coming in through the garage into the kitchen. He hadn't shut the garage as he'd left and she hadn't either. She was running a bath and someone was in the house. “MOM!” Jim's voice filled the silence. He turned, looking for the gate he had come through. The entrance to the cemetery was a wrought iron arch. He should be able to see it even in the fog. If he followed the gravel of the path he would get there. He looked at the faceplate again and the image was gone, showing just the silvery reflection of the thick fog he was walking through. The crunch of his feet in the gravel the only sound in the night except for the occasional wzzzzt of his sleeve moving against the body of the jacket. No sounds of traffic. Nothing but the muffled silence of the fog and his footsteps.

NaNoWriMo 2011 Here I Come!

Smell that? It's the smell of fear... not of Halloween's ghosts and goblins... not of people realizing that Christmas is fast upon them... not of those who woke with a start wondering if this is the weekend they're supposed to fall back... but of hopeful writers all over the world realizing that November is almost here and with it the annual mad dash to 50,000 words that they, we, can say comprise our novel for 2011.

NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month. It's about racing to finish something. It's about writers who say, "One day..." and then that day never comes. It's about trying to do something you never thought you could do. It's about figuring out that one of the biggest obstacles we, as creative people, face is ourselves.

We find the time. We make the time. We prioritize like we've never done before. We plan while walking, while parking, while raking or cooking. We eat, drink, and breath this project in an almost obsessive way. And, if we stick to it, we finish something. It might not be good. Hell, it probably isn't good, but that's not the point really is it? We finish something we have, in the past, not even started because we weren't ready, were too busy, didn't have time for... blah blah blah. The power of NaNoWriMo is, for me, the confidence it gives to me that even if I'm not writing The Great American Novel I am able to write something that long. I'm able to find the time. I'm able to prioritize. I'm able to write through the writer's block or the dry spell or the headache and bad mood. I'm able to do it if I really want to.

Out there are a whole lot of people who are today looking at their computers, their notes & outlines, their blank notes & outlines, their stack of "how to write" books that they never quite got past Chapter One. In most of them is the kind of excitement they used to feel a few days before Christmas. That nervous energy that's building is making them smile for no reason as they stare out the window and can't wait for November 1st when they can sit down and write.

It's an exciting time. I'm really looking forward to it.


(This was originally posted over on Google+)

NaNoWriMo 2010: Done

I've had people ask about when I was going to post more of the story I wrote for NaNoWriMo 2010 and the short answer is I've decided I need to put more in, in the middle of the story. That means if I post the end you'll know how it ends without all of the story.

Now, I don't know that the end won't change. I didn't know the story until I wrote it to be honest.

So I'm torn between posting it as it ended with NaNo 2010 or waiting until I've fleshed out the middle... I guess I'll see if there are any comments here with an opinion one way or the other.

My feelings on the story?
I liked it. I liked the characters and I liked the character development. It ended too quickly. I know that sounds silly since I wrote it, but I'd never intended the story to be the story of the town as much as the story of the three boys and how they changed. The events in the town were to serve as more of a backdrop, much like WW2 serves as a backdrop for stories set during that time. The protagonists don't typically impact the war itself so much as have it happen around them and we, as the audience watch how it changes them and how they grow as characters. My reader response has been "but what about the town" which means I've left too many unanswered questions. I'll need to fix that in the additions I'm wanting to add. I still haven't read it. I won't read it until sometime in 2011 and then I'll write the parts I think that need to be added. I've got some of it growing in my head now as it ferments in there. I can't call it a book or a novel. It's far too short. It's got, in the words of one of my readers, the character development of a novel in the length of a longish short-story. That to me means it hasn't made up my mind what it is yet. I'll need to sort that out as well.

Comments? Suggestions? Requests?
(If you want a copy of how it stands right now post a message in the comments or e-mail me asking for it and I'll pdf it to you.)

NaNoWriMo 2010: Day 15

“I can't.” Devon said softly, tentatively. “I might be able to do something. I might be useful. I might finally be able to do something good... something people will look up to me for. I have to help. I have to try. I don't think a chance like this will come around again and if I waste it or go bury my head in the sand I'll be worthless forever. I'll be the guy that did nothing... again.” He looked up at Mark, Jeff, and then John. “I'm helping.”

They sat and listened to the rain and the radio. Teenage Dream was playing. In the half-light of the overcast early evening, it wouldn't be dark yet for another four hours if it hadn't been for the clouds, they saw headlights turn towards them. There were headlights and then another row across the top of the vehicle, 4 deer lights that ran across a rack there onto the road ahead of it. “It's Dave.” John said.

“That's an escort?” Jeff said as it came slowly into view.

“Yeah. I told you, it wasn't exactly street legal.” John said.

Coming towards them was what had been an '87 Ford Escort when it rolled off the assembly line. It had since had a lift kit put on it, big tires, and a light rack across the top with high powered halogen lights that faced fore and aft. There was a black tubular steel brush guard that wrapped around the front end of the escort protecting half way down the quarter panels of the car. The top of the engine was sticking out through where the hood had been cut away to make room for it. Nothing on it was chrome. It was all matte black and faded red paint. As it rolled to a stop they could see the inside had been reinforced with a roll cage and the front seats had been removed and replaced with wrap around aluminum racing seats with a five point harness.

“That you John?” The voice came from speakers under the lights on the light bar that none of them had noticed until they heard them crackle to life.

The Escort's lights were aimed into the back seat of the car, effectively blinding the back seat passengers. John honked his horn once.

“How many you got with you?” Again, the voice came from the speakers, the volume had been turned down some, as if the driver was adjusting things inside the car.

John honked four quick times.

“I'm not getting out in this crap. Send two over here and have one in the front and the other climb into the back then follow me. We're going to my cabin. We'll talk there.” He revved the engine twice to indicate he was ready. Devon moved to open the door and John stopped him.

“Sit tight. I'm going to pull up beside him first. If we just trust him it'll piss him off. I need to visually ID him or we'll hear about it.” John rolled forward slowly and around the car until he was driver door to driver door with the red car, but he was looking at the bottom of the door from his unmodified Prius. He opened his door and stepped out into the rain. With a quick bob up onto the running board, also tubular steel painted matte black, looked in at the driver and into the back seat and then ducked back into his car. The whole thing had taken less than five seconds but he was soaked when he slammed the door. “It's him. OK. Mark, he knows about you at least so you ride with him and one of you” John looked back at Jeff and Devon, “needs to go too. Probably Devon would be best I guess? He'll ask fewer questions right away at least. And maybe you could sort of ease him into the idea of why Jeff's with us... probably leave out the part where he wants to hump our legs though.”

“I what?” Jeff asked, startled.

“You know what I mean.” John said.

“Don't be a dick John. He's a good guy.” Mark said unfastening his seat belt as Devon and Jeff moved towards Mark's side of the car so they could get out quickly. Devon wanted to see what it was like on the inside if it was that tricked out on the outside. Outside lightning split the sky, lighting the inside of the car.

“I know he is. I'm just saying. Leave that part out. David's pretty erm... conservative.”

Jeff reached forward and tapped Mark's shoulder with one of the radios he had retrieved from the back of the car, “Take one of these with you so we'll both hear if anything new happens.”

“Good idea, and worst case, we can use it to talk to each other. At least until David figure something else out. He's probably got radios too.” John said. “OK. Go for it. See you wherever it is we're going.”

Mark opened the door and ran for the passenger side of the Ford Escort and right behind him Jeff climbed out and Devon followed Mark into the rain. Jeff slid back into the car, in the passenger seat and shut the door with a quick shiver as his wet shirt stuck to him. “Holy shit it cooled off out there!” Jeff said rubbing his arms.

The Escort's horn drew their attention and David's outline could be made out waving the radio at them. It looked like he was giving them a thumbs up, but it was hard to tell through the gray of the sheets of rain. The red Escort pulled around them and John watched it pull ahead of them, a winch and tow ball hung off the back of the car, just visible through the wrap around tubular steel brush guards David had put on the back of the car as well. Along the top of the windshield they saw five small orange lights evenly spaced. “What the hell? John said leaning forward to see what they might be, just as he did they went off, five strobing flashes that left him seeing spots. The Escort's horn honked a laugh at him as David pulled slowly out onto the gravel road and waited for them. “ASSHOLE!” John yelled, laughing, and he honked when he could see again. He knew David was laughing at him. He hated people who tail-gated almost as much as he hated people that drove too slowly. “I guess he found the solution to tail gating drivers.”

“Yeah, kill them. Seems like an over-reaction.” Jeff said rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Well, it's not like this was his daily driver. It's for emergencies. You weren't really going to puss out were you?” John said as he turned north following David through the rain, away from town.

“I still would.” Jeff said.

“Why?” John asked, sounding almost angry, “We fought for you not two hours ago? We might have even killed somebody.” John knew he had but wasn't going to say it out loud. It bothered him more than he would admit. Not right now. He'd think about it later. The snap the man's neck had made was in every clap of thunder he heard already. “We went back for you. Would you have come back for us? I gotta know, because if not... I just gotta know.”

“For you? Yeah. I'd come back for you. You, and them too. But you're all here. If we go in to town you and I will all be at risk again. We're finally safe, or as close to safe as we've been all day and it is stupid to go back.”

“Even for our moms?” John asked quietly.

“No, not for them. If they don't come out with your dad you've got to go back. If you go back I'm going back. But you're all young, and not to be a dick about it. I don't think any of you believe bad things can happen to you and I know that they can. Something that seems like a good idea at the time can come back to bite you in the ass and have forever type consequences. This is one of those times.”

“It always comes back to my ass doesn't it?” John asked.

“Honestly, your ass isn't your best quality.” Jeff said.

“My sparkling personality? Witty come backs? Dazzling good looks?” John asked.

“God knows it's not your sparkling personality. You'd be a 10 out of 10 if you were a mute.” Jeff said, half-jokingly. “If I had to say, it'd be your looks... and that in spite of being a jerk in front of your friends when you're by yourself you're almost tolerable.”

“Almost?” John asked as both cars slowed at a portion of the road that was partially flooded out with a sheet of water running from one side of the road to the ditch on the other.

“Almost. When you're showing off for Mark you're almost not fit to be around.” Jeff said, honestly.

“I'm not showing off for anybody!”

“Oh bullshit. You've got to be the biggest cock on the block and you strut and preen and mouth off like you're King Shit. But when it's just you you're a good guy... most of the time, when you're not being a pissy little bitch.”

“There you go again with the biggest comments.” John said. “Really? You really think that?”

“Yeah. If we were having this conversation in front of Mark you'd be more defensive and pushy. You're hard to like sometimes.”

“Hunh. But you're saying my dazzling good looks make up for it is what you're saying.”

“Only sometimes. Like in the summer, in a wife-beater.” Jeff laughed. “But seriously for a minute, if your dad gets your mom out and meets us at whatever white supremacist survivalist bunker we're going to, why should you go back? If it's a sink hole what can you possibly do about it? Fill it in with dirt? Do that running thing around the edges of it? There's nothing to be gained by going back and everything to lose. Not just if we're killed, but what if we wind up in Guantanamo or some other camp for anti-american activists? They can lock you up and lose you. With all the people who are going to be missing after this nobody'd know you weren't at the bottom of a pit somewhere.”

“Because if we don't do anything we suck.” John said. “Mark's right. It's our town. Did you read that book he gave you? I know he gave you one. He has like a dozen copies of it. Good Omens? I listened to it on audio book. You know how the main character feels about his town? How he's protective of it and looks out for it and his super power is that what he wants comes true so the town is protected? That's how Mark feels about here. He likes it like. He wants it to be a safe place. He believe's it's a safe place. I don't have it as bad as he does, but I think it's contagious. It's hard to not like the town when you're with him.” John said.

“Yeah, and your super power is jumping over things, eating ice cream when it's free, and I don't see how either one of those is going to help.”

“What's your super power?” John asked.

“I've got terrible taste in friends. I manage to associate myself, in a town of 25,00o with three people who are, good people, but insanely dangerously bad for me to hang around. I don't even have to do it on purpose. If I'm not doing something stupid the world will fall apart and contrive to put me in a situation where, for all the world, it looks like I'm managed things to get me in a car with a sixteen year old with no pants on just in time for some uniforms to pull up and see it. That's my super power. Insanely bad taste in friends. As super powers go it's kind of a steaming turd actually.”

“You don't have bad taste in friends. You said we were good guys. That's good taste in friends.” John argued.

“For anybody else you'd be right. For me, you're like a loaded gun. Seriously. This is so not a good idea. Not just the going in to town. I can almost get that, but me being around you all is really not a good idea.”

“You think you're going to hump our legs in our sleep?”

“God no! Just the attachment part is bad. It's a thinking thing. I can't think I can have just one cigarette or just one drink. It's like an ex-smoker or a recovering alcoholic that way. Once the foot is in the door it's hard to shut again.” Jeff was surprised how easy it was to talk to John about any of this. It wasn't something he was usually comfortable talking about with anybody. That John wasn't putting him out of the car made him feel somewhat better. Not exactly accepted. He didn't think acceptance was probably possible, but non-rejection counted for a lot. That was most people's reaction at best, rejection of him as a person and a human being.

“So, you'd rather we weren't friends?”

“Are we friends or just all using each other for different things?” Jeff asked.

“Damn, that's cynical as hell. If we weren't friends you'd still be back there with the uniforms. The ice cream's good and all, but it's not worth fighting over.”

“Well... shit.” Jeff said softly and stared out the window into the rain. They rode in silence for several long minutes as the radio played Alannah Myles sang Black Velvet. Eventually the lead car, David's Escort slowed, brake lights bright red in the growing dark, and turned down a little used long driveway that ended in a stand of trees and a dark two-story farm house that wasn't visible through the surrounding trees until they rounded a corner. It stopped near front door and turned around so it was facing back down the drive way. A motion sensor light came on over the steps. John turned around and parked beside the car as the occupants of the red car ran, hunched against the rain, to the protection of the front porch.

“If I try not to be an ass will you tell me which of us you like best?” John asked as he put the car in park.

“Devon.” Jeff said without hesitation.

“Is it because you two have...” John left the question hanging.

“No!” Jeff said quickly, louder than he meant to. “I haven't. We haven't. That's not why.”

“Would you?” John asked looking at Jeff thoughtfully.

“Not with him. It'd fuck things up. He's got that all screwed up in his head. He thinks it's how people show they care about him.”

“And you're trying to prove that's not how it's done so you care about him but won't. That's confusing.”

“Yeah.” Jeff looked up from where he'd been looking at his hands.

“So, who would you with?” John asked.

Jeff looked back at him, “Nobody. It's not worth it.” Jeff's voice was low, soft in the dark.

“Oh.” John said reaching for the door handle. “It'd be worth it.” He laughed as he opened the door.

“Sure it would 'Point and Shoot.'” Jeff said as he opened his door and followed John to the house, shutting the car door behind him as he ran to the door. He heard John lock the doors with his remote over the sound of the rain.

Mark and Devon ran around the Escort for the door and Mark reached up to open the door. The diamond plate matte black running boards were slick in the rain as he pulled himself up and into the front seat as Devon scrambled in behind him, turning sideways to squeeze between the middle pillar and the back of the racing seat. He slid into a racing seat in back and the two of them struggled with their harnesses for a minute before getting themselves buckled in. They looked over at David, blond hair close cropped and under a Nebraska ball cap. He was in his early forties or late thirties, wore small square wire rimmed glasses and grinned around what looked like half of a Slim Jim, Teriyaki judging by the smell. “How's it going? You Mark?”

“Yeah. That's my friend Devon.” Mark thumbed towards the back seat where Devon waved at David as he glanced back at him.

“Nice pants.” He said as he looked at the matching camo pants' digital square print.

“Yeah.” Mark said, “We found 'em.”

“Just laying around were they?” He asked reaching forward to flip a toggle switch on his dash. “Close your eyes. It'll be bright for a minute.” He laughed and pushed a button. A blinding flash reflected off the back window and David laughed again. “Love that thing.” He said looking over at Mark who was rubbing his eyes. “You didn't close your eyes.”

“Well I didn't think... yeah. I didn't. What was that?”

“For tailgaters. I hate 'em.” He said. “So, those were just laying around? How'd you get those? They look like what I wore in the service.”

“Some guys had them and didn't need them any more so we borrowed them.” Mark said. As the escort turned from the cemetery drive onto the gravel road he told the story of the soldiers coming upon them at the brick yard without saying where it was. Several times Devon interrupted to correct a detail.

David listened, asked several questions, ending with, “How sure are you the one guy is dead?”

“Pretty sure.” Devon said. He'd had one side of the man when they carried him into the shack tied to the others.

“How's John doing with that?” David asked.

“Seems OK with it. He was pretty pissed that they'd gone all postal on Devon and Jeff.”

“You didn't say why they were taking Jeff away.”

“Gotta be a case of mistaken identity. Or maybe because he was the only adult and Devon was a minor so they were just going to ignore him.” Mark made up. He'd glossed over that part of the story and hoped David wouldn't notice. The man looked at him out of the corner of his eye as he drove.

“Mmmkay. We can go with that for now.” David said turning onto another gravel road. He reached and grabbed a CB mic off the dash, “You out there White Rabbit?” There's a sink hole that opened up in the middle of town. It looks like it got the mall and a little bit south of the highway through there. Not sure how far down it goes. Their chatter cut off right after the hole opened up, but you heard that. They knew something was going to happen though or they wouldn't have had so many people in place. They got here too fast for it to be a coincidence. Stillwater's the outfit they brought in, and they're from the east coast. They're also amateurs. Merc's for hire. Not much of a challenge.”

The CB emitted a long tone. “He's there.” David said slowing to turn onto another gravel road. The rain ran off the windshield as he drove and he didn't use windshield wipers at all.

“Got 'em. Meet you there.” The CB said. It was John's dad.

David put the mic back on the dash and looked over at Mark. “He's got your Mom. We're not talking much. Don't want them to know where we are or what we're up to, but he said 'them' so he's got more than one person. He said he was going after your mom and Shirley. We'll head out to a place I know and dig in until he gets there and then we'll figure out what to do. Might be a few more people coming out if they can get there. There are a lot of closed roads. The rain will help though.”

“What're we even thinking about doing? It sounds like it's just a giant hole. What's with all the helicopters?” Devon asked.

“What helicopters?” David asked looking at Devon in the rearview mirror.

“There were three black helicopters. They looked like they were stealth helicopters, but I don't think there is such a thing. Same flat black paint like you've got on this. They flew by just before the soldiers showed up. They were headed in the direction of town from the airport, or at least the direction of the airport.” Devon said.

“Big enough for troop transport you think?” David said looking at Devon again through the mirror.

“We didn't think so.” Devon said. He was ready for David to not be talking to him. He preferred to not be the center of attention.

“Hunh. Anything else you forgot to mention?” David asking with a glance to Mark.

“I don't think so.” Mark said.

“How about why is Jeff with you? You go for ice cream and kidnap him?”

“You know Jeff?” Mark asked.

“He's on my route. Yeah. I know him that way.”

“There were some guys giving him a hard time and John decided he shouldn't stick around there so he brought him with. We were over there looking at the dead bread. He thinks the water is the problem. Something in it killed the yeast he thinks. That's when John picked him up.”

“John did.” He sounded surprised. “That's more initiative than I'd have expected out of him. How well do you know Jeff?” David asked. He seemed to be asking another question, or at least another question was implied.

“We know him OK. He's a good guy. I guess we know him better now.” Mark said, cautiously.

“You know he's gay right?” David asked.

“Duh.” Mark answered with a smile to take some of the sting out of it. He wished he knew David better.

“Just saying. People might talk.”

“Fuck 'em.” Devon said.

David grinned and turned to look over his shoulder, “Good attitude. They're all idiots anyway. Right?”

“Maybe not 'all.' You seem OK so far.” Devon said with feigned cockiness.

“Yeah? Just OK?” David asked, faking being offended.

“Nebraska? Really?” Devon asked pointing at his baseball cap.

“Oh, that.” David laughed. “Hate 'em. But not as much as Paul. He'll have a shit fit when he sees this thing.” He took the hat off, looked at it, grinned and pulled it back onto his head laughing at John's Dad's anticipated outrage.

The CB crackled into a static-filled burst of noise. The only word they could make out was, “work.” At least Mark thought it was “work.” He looked at David as the smile fell from the driver's face and he reached for the mic. Before he could key it on they heard more static and “... me at work... get past roadblocks...”

“Well, shit.” David said, “Looks like we've run out of luck. My guess,” and he held the mic in his lap while he turned down a lane to a farm house, “is that he wants to meet me at his work because he can't get past the outlying roadblocks. The ones in town are manned by local people but the further out I got the fewer people I recognized. I drove through a field around one of them using night vision. Was worried about that. I'd hoped his reservist status would get him through. OK.” He pulled into the drive and turned around. “We'll run inside and meet up in there and sort things out before I head back into his work to get them out. You boys stay here OK?” Before they could answer he opened his door and ran up on the porch and into the house.

They followed seconds later with Devon saying to Mark as they climbed out, “I'm not staying here.”

Mark answered as he jumped down to the ground, “Me neither.” They they ran to the house as John and Jeff readied themselves for the dash through the rain to the house.

As John and Jeff went into the house they entered the kitchen. A lone coffee cup sat in the white porcelain sink, a black sludge dried onto the bottom of the cup. The room was lit by a battery powered lantern on the gate leg table against the wall opposite the sink. As the light started to dim Mark reached over and cranked a small crank on the side of the lamp. David reached out and shook John's hand, and then Jeff's. “How you two doing?”

“Nice hat.” John said.

“You like that?” David asked grinning. “I think Paul will too, don't you think?”

“Only team Dad hates worse than Nebraska is Notre Dame. I think he'll notice it. That's for sure. So, when's he gonna get here?” John asked, looking around the room at the white painted cabinets that lined the kitchen walls.

“Soon as I go get him. I think he's got trouble with a road block so I'm supposed to go meet him at his work. He's got Shirley and Mark's mom I'm pretty sure. You all just sit tight. There's no power, but there's a generator down stairs if you need it. I can't imagine you would. The toilets flush. We're on a well and it's got power. With the water situation in town I'm not sure if I'd trust it or not, but the toilet's will flush. Just don't drink it until we get that cleared up. I'd use the light as little as possible. There's a CB in the next room. It's got a hand crank too. You should probably get it going and keep an ear out for any news. It's got a better antenna than the one in the car so it might pick up better. Jeff, you want to stay here or go in with me?”

“I think...”

“He's staying with us.” John said. “We should have some supervision right?”

“Riiiight.” David said, drawing it out as he tried to decide if he should try and figure out what the real reason was. Deciding he didn't have time he took his keys from his belt loop and tossed them into the air and caught them. “You all just sit tight then. We'll be right back. We'll all be right back.” He said looking at John and Mark in turn. “You take care of these guys OK?” He asked Jeff.

“Will do. Be careful.”

“Screw careful. Careful wouldn't have gotten me out of the house!” David looked at John one more time as he moved towards the door. “Don't do anything stupid. We're expecting you to be here when we get back, and to be safe. I'm bringing your mom and dad here... they'll expect you to be here.” He looked at John for a long minute, glanced at the other people in the room, eyes pausing a moment longer than the others on Jeff's face as if he were about to ask a question then he turned and ran back into the rain and to his car. They heard the engine fire to life, the lights came on illuminating the front yard and the drive and he pulled away into the night. In the kitchen the light faded to a dull yellow then went out.

“Well, who wants to play strip poker?” John asked in the dark.

“We're not seriously going to sit here are we?” Devon asked.

“Nope. I don't have cards anyway. But we've got to give him time to get down the road. It'd be just like him to go around the corner and wait to see if we're going to stay here.” John said pulling a folding chair into the kitchen from the adjacent room and sitting down. “There's more chairs in there if anybody wants one. The bathroom's at the top of the stairs on the left.”

“You've been here before?”

“Yeah. It's his parent's place. We used to come out here for Fourth of July picnics that would turn into all night things with fireworks and bonfires.”

“Used to? What happened?” Jeff asked.

“Someone crapped in the yard so he quit having it.” John said.

Mark barked a laugh.

“I'm serious. One of the campers dropped a deuce behind a tree and he saw it when he was mowing. It was the last time we came out here.”

“Well that's just gross.” Devon said. “I'm going to smoke on the porch? That OK?”

“Yeah, just leave the outside door open so the smoke goes outside.”

Mark pulled a chair in and sat near the sink, leaning back and closing his eyes. “I'm beat. What's next?”

“We could crash here for a while. Now that you say it I'm tired too.”

“You're tired? You had a nap.”

“I couldn't sleep with all the jabbering going on. It's a tent. The walls are made of cloth.”

“What do you think Jeff? Catch some z's?” John asked.

“I could use some sleep. We can crank up the CB and it'll wake us up if they say anything.”

“Alright. Who goes outside to grab the sleeping bags?”Mark asked. “Not it!”

“Don't need to. I'll go grab some from upstairs.” He went up the stairs and returned minutes later with four sleeping bags. “No mint on the pillows. Hell, no pillows that I could find. We should sleep in our clothes.” He turned to Jeff, holding up both hands and padding the air, “Calm down. Nothing to do with you. Just so we can be ready in a hurry if we need to be.”

“I didn't say anything. I think it's a good idea for both reasons.”

Devon came in and the room immediately smelled like cigarette smoke. “Dang. You've got to quit smoking.” Mark said.

“I know. It'll kill me.” Devon said.

“That and it stinks like ashtray.” Mark added. “We're going to crash here for a while and then go into town.”

“Crash now? It can't be past seven.” Devon said sounding surprised.

“I know, but it's been eventful, and I've got adrenaline debt going on. Besides, maybe they'll be here before we wake up. Because honestly. I don't have any idea what we'll do when we get there. If we can even get into town.” John said sounding tired.

“I'd wondered that.” Jeff said. “But I assumed you had a master plan rolling around in that head of yours.”

“Nope. No plan at all.” John passed out the sleeping bags before cranking on the generator on the table long enough to get light out of it while he led them into the mostly empty living room. An old office chair sat in one corner, and on top of it sat a CB radio on a red Igloo cooler. Next to that was a small hand powered generator and some batteries. He switched on the CB and cranked the generator until his arm got tired then he let Mark, and then Devon, and finally Jeff wind it up. While they weren't cranking the generator they set out their sleeping bags in a plus sign pattern with their heads in the center and their feet sticking out.

“You gonna be sneaking into my sleeping bag later Jeff?” John asked as they slid their shoes off and climbed into their sleeping bags.

“You want me to come on over? We could just zip our bags together. I bet Mark and Devon won't care, just keep it down.” Jeff countered.

“Go right ahead,” Mark said. “No problem on my end. You care Devon?”

“Go for it. Shouldn't keep us up too long from what I hear he'll be finished fast. Just don't get any on me.”

“You're gross.” John said. “Fuck you.”

“Well, if you insist.” Jeff said sliding into his sleeping bag and laying down to look at the ceiling. He could just make it out in the darkness. He'd decided to give him a hard time back when John started something. He wasn't sure how the other two would react, but thought they'd know he was kidding. There was something easy about their banter. He heard them call each other “fag” all the time and say things like he'd just said, but had never thought he'd be saying it too. He feared rejection, not of perceived advances, but of him as a person. He worried he'd be rejected as a person if he'd made those jokes, and they were mostly jokes, certainly jokes under the circumstances. It was the most relaxed and comfortable he had felt with a group of people, adult or not in years. He didn't have anything to hide and could be himself and wasn't rejected. He knew he'd have to be careful to not do anything but he could at least be himself... that was something he hadn't done in years and it felt good. He closed his eyes.

“Nothing John?” Mark asked.

“Nyah. I'm going to wait for you to go to sleep and switch places with you. So, if you wake up and can't find your pants, remember, you asked for it.” John said.

A long time passed before Jeff said into the darkness, “Thanks guys.”

“For what?” Devon asked, sounding almost asleep.

“For coming back for me. For not treating me any different... just... thanks.” Jef said haltingly.

“Stop it.” Mark said. “You'd have done the same thing.”

“What happened?” John asked.

“When?” Mark asked.

“The first time. Jeff, what got you in trouble the first time?” John asked.

“C'mon John.” Mark said, “He'll tell us if he wants to.”

“I can say, it wasn't a violent crime or anything.” Jeff started and quickly added, “I'm not trying to make it sound OK but I didn't... it wasn't violent. We were just fooling around, ugh.” He stopped. “There's no way to not make this sound creepy.” He was nervous. He hadn't talked about what happened to anybody outside of a counseling session ever and those had been hard enough, both group and one-on-one. He hadn't cared what those people thought about him, but he didn't want these three to not trust him. Not for a bad reason, but because he liked them. They'd said they were friends, maybe friends would trust each other even if they weren't perfect. “I was younger, a lot younger than I am now, twenty. The other person was about your age. I'd come over and he was on the internet. It was obvious he didn't want me to know what he was looking at but he finally showed me. It was porn.” He was finding it harder and harder to talk as he went on. “We talked about it for a little bit and seriously. It was exciting to me, but I didn't think anything would happen. We were just talking. One minute we were talking, the next minute he, and I swear I didn't start it, the next minute he had his junk out. I don't even know how long he had it out. We were talking. He was nervous. I was... I was nervous... That's when his Mom came in. I hadn't heard her come up stairs.” He hadn't heard anything. He'd been totally consumed by what was unfolding next to him. If his head had caught on fire he's not sure he'd have noticed. “All I heard was her yelling at me, at him, at both of us. I went home. The police got there right after that. I don't remember much after that. Jail was a blur. Court was a nightmare. The things she said about me, her lawyer was brutal. I feel worst for him. He'd been put through hell for it and I swear I didn't ask for any of it and didn't touch anything.” Jeff stopped.

“Did you want to.” Devon asked. He sounded less sleepy now.

Jeff stared into the blankness of the dark over his head. “Yeah. More than anything I'd ever wanted before.” Jeff sniffed in the dark.

“Well fuck 'em.” John said. “You didn't do anything. That's bullshit.”

“Yeah, well. I should have left. I should have told him to put it away. I shouldn't have sat down when I saw what he was looking at on the internet. There's a lot of things I shouldn't have done.”

“But you wanted to.” Devon said again, not badgering him, but not letting go of that part. The part that was hardest to talk about.

“Yeah. If it'd gone on much longer I might have, probably would have, the conversation was going that way. It's probably good she stopped it then.”

“Did you like him?” Devon asked.

The light came on in Jeff's head finally. He rolled to his side to look at Devon even though he couldn't see him. Devon was wondering why, if Jeff liked that sort of thing he'd never tried anything with him. Did it mean Jeff didn't like him? “Yeah, but I wasn't thinking about him right then. I mean I was... no I wasn't. I was only thinking about me and what I wanted right then and that was what was wrong. It was why I feel bad for him. Liking someone doesn't mean you have to mess with them. Sometimes liking someone means you don't, or can't. We'd been friends, but that messed it all up so I went from having a friend to having nothing. It wasn't worth it.” He paused. “It wouldn't be worth it. I'd hate to lose your friendship.”

“Still,” John went on, “it's fucked up.”

Jeff wasn't sure which he meant, that he'd gone to jail or that he'd wanted something so bad that he wasn't supposed to want, but he agreed either way. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“What's wrong with looking?” Mark asked.

“It's illegal until you're eighteen. The idea is kids can't give consent. They're not able to decide what they're doing yet.” Jeff answered.

“If he'd killed you he'd have been charged as an adult though. He's old enough to go to prison for that but not to decide if he's up for it or not?” John asked.

“That's they way it is.” John said.

“That's fucked up.” John repeated.

They lay there in silence except for the sounds of them trying to get comfortable on the floor. Jeff lay back down and closed his eyes. He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It groped around in the dark until it found his shoulder and squeezed it once for a long time before patting him twice and retreating back into the darkness.

More sounds of people moving around in their sleeping bags and then the slow steady breathing from Devon's direction.

“G'night.” Mark said softly.

“Yeah.” Jeff said, his voice sounding rough.

It was still dark when John woke up and slipped out of his sleeping bag. He carefully walked around the edge of the room to crank on the generator on the CB to make sure it would work if someone tried to talk to them. He heard the slow, steady breathing of the others sleeping and sat on the floor next to the CB for a long time before pushing himself to his feet. He'd never needed much sleep and while he got tired maybe a little earlier than most, he never slept a whole eight hours and that left him lots of early morning time to himself. He walked around the edge of the room again and went outside. It had stopped raining and he sat on the front step. Minutes later Jeff came out and John moved over and patted the step. “Can't sleep?”

“I wake up easy.” Jeff said. “Light sleeper. You?”

“Don't sleep much. Was all that true what you said earlier? That was the whole story?”

“Yeah. That was why I went away.” Jeff said, not looking at John.

“I mean.. telling some of the truth or most of it isn't the same as lying, but it's not all the truth. You didn't leave anything out?” John pushed.

“That was all of it.” Jeff said.

“OK. Can I ask a follow up question?” John asked.

“Yeah... why so interested? You want me to go?”

“No, not that, just... you're first person I ever met that would talk about it I guess. I mean we could talk about the weather if you want to.”

Jeff laughed. “Rainy and shitty. Anything to add?”

“Not much. You ever talk to him again?”

“After I got out. He messaged me on the computer. We chatted for a while. I wouldn't say much, didn't know who was on the other end over his shoulder. He apologized.” Jeff's voice caught, “and I...” he waited and coughed a couple times, “I tried to assure him that he hadn't 'done anything wrong. Evidently they'd put him through counseling and he'd managed to convince himself there was something wrong with him and there wasn't. There wasn't anything wrong with him right up until it all hit the fan. He felt like he had to apologize and that was the hardest, thinking he'd been living with that... I...” Jeff stopped again.

“So, he was OK?” John asked.

“He will be. I think he just wanted some resolution to it. Neither of us meant for what happened to happen. Both of us got hurt by different people, and he said what hurt most was nobody ever asked him what he thought should happen. He said he was treated like a victim and had that beaten into his head until he started to believe it... that was what he hated the most. He hated the way people looked at him and treated him afterwards. It's not supposed to get out, but it was a small town, everybody knew.”

“Is that why you moved here? To get away from the town or to get away from him.” John asked.

Jeff looked at him sideways, “You're smarter than you look. You know that?”

“Yeah. Wait. What?”

“Never mind. I was mistaken.” Jeff laughed. “I moved to make it easier on him. If I'd been there it would have brought it all up again. That's not true. I moved for both of us. I didn't want people knowing, or thinking they knew. So, I came here. Well, to town anyway. Not particularly here.” He gestured at the trees and outbuildings around the house.

“I knew what you meant. So, do you like older guys?”

“Old? Like sixty?” Jeff said.

“No, like your age.”

“Screw you. I'm not that old.”

“Well you're older'n me.” John said.

“Yeah, not really. Sometimes, but it's really rare. Really, really rare.” Jeff said.

“Well, we'll have to find you an old guy that works then you'll stay out of trouble.” John said as if he'd decided on a job that had to be done.

“That's OK. Really. I think the last thing I need is a group of high school matchmakers picking people out for me.” Jeff said with a with a quiet laugh.

“What if I knew somebody else like you. You think you'd like each other?” John asked, tentatively.

John thought about what John was saying and not saying, “I doubt it. It'd be like putting two legos together backwards. Both looking for the same thing and neither of us looking for each other. Should I ask who or how you know them?” Jeff asked.

“Just a guy I know. I could introduce you I guess if you changed your mind.”

“You OK?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah. It was a long time ago.” John stopped himself realizing he couldn't take the words back and wishing he could.

“Want to talk about it?” Jeff asked.

“Not really.”

“Will you talk about it?”

John looked at him. “I guess, fair's fair, but you don't tell anybody or I swear I'll rat you out and throw you under the bus. You gotta swear.”

“I won't tell. I swear.” Jeff wanted to put his arm around John's shoulder, he could see, in the dim light of the stars and the half moon peeking through the clouds, the pain on John's face, mostly around his eyes.

“You can't tell anybody.” John's voice was intense.

“You don't have to talk about it.” Jeff said.

“I was in first grade. I remember he picked me up from school and I only went to that school for first grade and fifth and it wasn't fifth grade. He was a friend of a friend. He picked us both up and we went to the lakes. We were meeting people there and I'd begged mom and dad to be able to go right after school and they'd go there after they got off work. I think it was a long weekend or something? We were going to be camping. I remember we were camping.” The words came out in a rush.

“Somehow we wound up around the bend near where the creek goes into the river, we were walking up the creek and throwing rocks to see who could throw them furthest. I don't know how it happened, but we wound up skinny dipping. I was in first grade. It wasn't a big deal really. Anyway. Wound up way up the creek and laying down on the bank. It was way away from everybody. I don't think that was an accident. We started playing truth or dare, his idea, and the dare's got more... well... at the time it was just funny stuff to do.” There was a long pause.

“You don't have to do this.” Jeff said quietly, not sure if he wanted to hear it either.

“So, after a while we went back. He said we shouldn't tell anybody or we wouldn't be able to come camping again or something like that. I got the impression it wasn't Forest's first time. That was my friend's name, Forest. So, I didn't tell. Things sort of progressed from there. We were already friends, me and Forest so going over to his place wasn't that big a deal. And sometimes we'd go to his house.” Jeff could tell by the way he said “his house” that John wasn't talking about Forest. “One time I woke up and he was doing stuff... it freaked me out a little bit, but I didn't tell him to stop. It felt good. I didn't tell him to stop. I just laid there. After that time it happened all the time. I'd always wake up and pretend I was asleep. Finally he moved away suddenly. He was an over the road driver for some company and he got transferred. Then it was over.”

“How long did it go on?” Jeff asked.

“Years. Sometime around fifth grade.”

“You kept going over?” Jeff asked.

“I didn't know how to stop it. If I quit going over maybe people would ask why and I didn't want to say why. I wasn't ashamed of what we'd done, but I knew things would go to shit if it got out. And besides, it felt good. I mean, it's sex right? Sex feels good. It's what it's for.”

“You know you didn't do anything wrong right? He shouldn't have done that.”

“I know. I know all that. I didn't do anything wrong.” John stressed the word “didn't” and to Jeff he sounded as if he meant it. “I don't really hate him or anything for it. But the part where he never asked. That's the part that I don't like. I wish he'd asked. I don't know what I'd said, but at least he could have asked.”

“What would you say to him if he were here right now?” Jeff asked.

“I'd ask him if he'd ever liked me at all or if he was just using me like a piece of meat.” John said immediately. “If he liked me then it's OK. If he was just using me... that's not cool. That's not cool at all. Well, not OK really. I still wish he'd asked. Hell. I'd probably have said 'yes.'”

“I'd offer you a hug but I'm probably not the right person for that right now.” Jeff said.

John leaned over, “I'll let ya hug me.” He sniffed once, twice, and added, “But don't try and hump my leg.” He laughed dryly. It was obviously fake and reached over to hug Jeff.

Jeff hugged him back and wiped his face on John's shoulder. “I'm so sorry, John.”

“It wasn't you.” John said, and Jeff could feel the teen wiping his nose on his shoulder and didn't care.

“I know, but it shouldn't have happened. You shouldn't have to wonder if you're a piece of meat or not. For what it's worth.” Jeff cleared his throat. “You're not just a piece of meat.”

“I know. I'm an incredibly hot piece of meat.” John said ending the hug and standing up, taking a few steps and turning back to face Jeff. He could see Mark standing in the door to the house, outlined in the greater darkness of the interior of the house. “Well, fuck.”