Deathskull Bombshell by Bethny Ebert Page B

asked.
    “You’re acting like a fucking homo.”
    “So?” Parker asked.
    “I’m not gay,” Nick said. And there it was,
the god honest truth. As soon as he said it, he knew it was untrue.
He broke into a cold sweat.
    He was gay. He’d never be anything else.
    “Well, then you should probably stop making
out with me,” Parker said.
    “Screw you,” Nick said, shoving him.
    “Yeah, whatever.” Parker shoved him back.
“You’re boring anyway.”
    “At least I don’t jerk off to Green Day
posters,” Nick said. “Fucking pervert.”
    Parker pushed Nick then, hard enough that he
got backed up against the car door.
    Nick punched him in the nose, smashing his
glasses. It hurt his hand, and he shouted in surprise, jerking his
hand back. He never punched anybody before. “Ow! Fuck!” He looked
at Parker. “Holy shit. Are you okay, man?”
    Parker reached a hand to his nose. It was
bleeding, bright stripes of red. His glasses were twisted out of
shape from the impact. He stared at the blood on his hand, then at
Nick. “Get out,” he said. His voice cracked. “We’re not friends
anymore.”
    “But—“
    Parker shoved past him and opened the door of
the Toyota. “Out.”
    Nick stumbled out. His heart flapped around
in his chest like a fish out of water. He wandered through the
parking lot, then down the sidewalk. He walked the cold lonely two
miles home, dug into his dad’s liquor cabinet and drank old wine
until he fell asleep.

Chapter seventeen
    September 2015
     
    It was about 10:00 PM, and Margot was driving
everybody back from the fall pow-wow in Ma’s old Honda Civic. She
had the speed of a turtle on the road, no, a tortoise, so slow, so
careful. She craned her neck at intersections, squinting her eyes
behind her glasses. It made her look even more like a tortoise.
    “Hurry up!” Kylie hollered from the backseat.
“I gotta check my Facebook messages. Gawd, you take forever. Old
woman. Mindimooyenh.”
    Parker smiled to himself. Secretly he was
glad his parents refused to buy Kylie a cell phone. Even though she
whined like a banshee, it sure beat the alternative. Boys followed
Kylie like gnats to a streetlight, and the less portable the
conversation the better.
    There were enough pregnant girls.
    Margot stared at the road. “Wait,” she
said.
    She stopped the car.
    “What’s up?” Parker asked. Then he looked out
at the road. A fox crossed, staring up at them, beady eyes like
little stars in the darkness. He put his head down and ran faster,
slinking like a cat.
    “Cool,” all three of them said, same
voice.
    Margot waited, in case any others would pass.
Then she put her foot down. The Civic sped up considerably, and, at
least for a moment, Kylie stopped complaining.
    The car flew along the highway.
    Gradually Kylie fell asleep.
    Margot looked at Parker. “You mind taking her
tonight? I think Ma and Dad are at Uncle Duane’s until
tomorrow.”
    Parker eyed Kylie, snoring in the backseat.
Even asleep she was loud.
    “I gotta be up early for school,” she added,
“and I still have to finish these term papers.”
    “Yeah, okay,” Parker said. He had to go to
school tomorrow, too, but there wasn’t much homework this early in
the semester. He had a daily art journal for Intro to Drawing,
which he worked on between dances at the pow-wow, and then some
preliminary sketches for his painting class. It was okay. Not like
Margot had much space in her apartment anyway. Parker and Nick had
an entire house. It was an easy choice.
    “We’re here,” Margot announced.
    “What?” Parker asked. “Dude, this is the
middle of nowhere.”
    “Don’t call me ‘dude’,” she admonished him.
“I’m a grown woman. I deserve to be addressed as such. And this
isn’t nowhere. We’re at a gas station. I need Red Bull.”
    “That shit’ll kill you,” Parker warned.
    “Don’t worry. I can handle it.” She turned
the car off, decisive, and walked inside the gas station, leaving
Parker with Kylie