Sicari chapter (Patreon)

This is a chapter out of the current WIP: I am on the final rounds of re-writes and hope to have them done this week and off to the first editor. This tidbit is unedited, so letting you know that now and may change a tad come time to pub it. 

P.s. Sam (14) is one of the supporting characters, Joe is a peripheral (17). Don't worry, nothing underage goin on in this book. 

Anyhow, enjoy:

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“You ready?” Joe jogged over to Sam waiting at the top of the steps. 

“Been ready.” And why did that sound so wrong? Sam headed down the steps wading through the crowds. An arm caught him on his shoulder, and he stumbled. Joe caught him. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” 

There were just as many students outside on the covered walkway  stampeding the buses as there’d been inside, trying to get to their lockers. At least outside there was more room for everyone to spread out.

Sam and Joe cut around the back of the school and down the hill. The student parking lot had more empty spaces than full. Almost everyone who drove had a work pass and bailed out an hour earlier than the rest of them.

“So are you going to go to the spring dance?” Joe tugged his backpack higher on his shoulder. Even swollen with books, he acted like it weighed nothing.

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

Sam shook his head. “Not my thing.”

“C’mon, Sam, this is high school. You’re supposed to go to dances.” Joe nudged him with his shoulder. “Even a few parties you don’t tell your parents about.”

It was high school. The four years Sam had been dreading since grade school. Joe was two years older, two grades ahead. In another year he’d be off to college. Knowing that is what drove Sam to fight for those high test scores so he could take some of the junior classes with Joe.

Unlike a lot of students in the gifted curriculum, Sam was desperate not gifted. 

He wasn’t sure he’d find the will to keep up the charade after Joe shipped off the college. Already there were days where the stress of a coming math test would send Sam to bed in tears. 

The past couple of months keeping late hours so he could put in the time he needed to get those A’s had started to wear on him.  The B on his last paper was proof he was slipping.

“Hey.” Joe put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. 

The contact sent an electric thrill right to the pit of his stomach.  And that was another complication weighing on Sam. 

“Are you mad at me?” Joe said.

“What? No. Why?”

“You look pissed.”

“I’m not, I’m just…” Tired. And so messed up. Messed up over Joe.“I’ve got two papers due and a chemistry test next Friday. Just a lot on my mind.”

Joe gripped the back of Sam’s neck. “See, all the more reason to go to the dance. Kick back. Relax. It’s only one night. Hell, just a few hours.”

“Like I said, it’s not my thing.”

“C’mon. Who doesn’t want to get dressed up and stand around listening to music that went out in the 90s.  It’ll be fun.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, you make it sound like a regular barrel of monkeys.”

They turned onto Kale Street. A school bus roared past dragging away the shouts of students. 

Joe said something that Sam missed. “What?”

“I said, maybe you should ask out whoever you wrote the poem for. Sounds to me like you’ve got it pretty bad.”

The burn in Sam’s cheeks was so hot his eyes watered.  

“Hey, why are you embarrassed?”

Sam squeezed through the split rail fence. Normally, they only took the short cut when it rained. Joe climbed over the top. 

“C’mon, Sam. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.” At least Sam was pretty sure he hadn’t. But it was hard to tell because the feelings inside him did hurt, just not in the way Joe probably thought.

“Look. Just ask her.” 

“Who?”

“The girl.”

“What girl?”

Joe rolled his eyes. “The one you wrote the poem for. Which by the way, in my unprofessional opinion, was pretty good.”

“You failed English Lit.”

“I did say unprofessional.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, you definitely qualify.”

“Hey.” Joe gave him a shove. “I thought you and me we’re best friends.”

“Just calling it like I see it.”

“We can’t all be geniuses.”

Sam’s smile shriveled up. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being smart.” Joe ruffled Sam’s hair.

“I know that.”

“If you hadn’t dropped out of wrestling, you’d be smart and kicking ass. You should sign back up.”

“I told you I don’t have the time.”

“It’s an hour a day twice a week.”

“And I don’t have an hour a day, twice a week. I don’t even have an hour a month.”

“Drop a class or two.”

If only he could. “I don’t want to be stuck at a state college.” He wanted to go to the same college Joe got into. Whichever one it would be. 

It was unlikely Joe would target one of the more prestigious universities. His grades weren’t high enough. But even a lesser-known college cost money.

Joe’s parents had the means to pay tuition, Sam needed a full scholarship if he had any hope of following. 

“State colleges aren’t all that bad.”

Sam cut him a look. 

Joe shrugged. “I might get stuck going to one if I don’t bring my chemistry grades up.”

“That bad?”

“Great big D on my last test.”

“Told you I would help you study.”

“What about your classes?”

“We’ll be cracking open the same book. I can study with you.” Sitting closed up in a room with Joe was a dangerous scenario, but Sam couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening.

“If I take you up on that offer, will you go to the dance?”

Sam dropped his shoulders.

“C’mon. It’s a dance.”

They headed into the woods. The creek nestled in the cleft of the valley was lost under the field of yellow and red.  

“I don’t have a date.”

“Give that poem to the girl of your choice and she’ll drag you there by your ankles.”

Only it wasn’t a girl Sam wanted to drag him.  

“Do you have any idea how incredible it was you wrote that?”

“Incredible?”

“Hell yeah. I mean, how many guys would? Or could. That took a ton of guts. I bet you stayed up half the night.”

All night. Because every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Joe rolling around on that damn wrestling mat. Then it would be him with Joe on the mat. Soon after that their clothes would fall off.

Sam rubbed his temple.  

Joe shrugged. “The only reason Karl was a dick is because he’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

“You’re able to write poetry, for one thing.”

“It’s not that great of a poem.” It had seemed like a work of art at the time but then Sam had been sleep deprived. Now in the daylight, under the scrutiny of other people, it was cheesier than a bag of Doritos. 

“It doesn’t have to be great. I mean, you wrote it. You thought enough about someone to write it to begin with. That alone makes it pretty awesome.”

“Awesome? Since when did you hit your thirties?”

“Hey, I picked it up from my old man. Blame him.”

Sam stopped. “What if I gave it to the person I wrote it for and they don’t like it?”

Joe adjusted his backpack again. “Why wouldn’t they like it?”

“What if they don’t like it? What if they, don’t like me. That way, I mean.”

“Who wouldn’t like you Sam?”

“But what if they don’t?”

“Then they’re an idiot. But you won’t know unless you tell them how you feel.”

Joe might be failing chemistry, but he wasn’t an idiot. And he was Sam’s best friend. Had been since they were in grade school. Long before Joe hit his growth spurt, when the highlight of their days was swimming, bike riding, and killing each other on the Xbox.

“You really mean it?”

Joe nodded. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

And there was always the chance Joe would like him the same way. 

Sam slipped off his backpack and unzipped the side pocket. He’d done his best to smooth out the wrinkles before he folded it back up. 

If he did this, there was no going back. He took a breath and met Joe’s confused gaze. Sam held out the paper to him. “Here.”

“What?”

“Take it.”

“Why?”

“You said I should give it to the person I wrote it for.” The lump in Sam’s throat made it almost impossible to swallow. “I wrote it for you.”

The easy smile on Joe’s face turned into a thin line. “That’s not funny, Sam.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. I like you. A lot. In the same way most guys like girls.”

Joe’s gaze went from the paper to Sam’s and back. Joe’s face reddened. “What the hell? I thought we were friends.”

“We are, but I want to be more than just friends.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“You really like guys.”

“Yes.”

“When did this happen?” 

Sam shrugged. “I guess I always have.”

Joe's hands curled into fists. “So you’re telling me you’re a bonafied faggot?” 

Sam knew this would be a mistake. How, he had no idea. Joe had never made fun of the kids who were out, but he also acted like they didn't exist. 

If only Sam could go back five minutes. Make up some lie about a girl. Ask her out, knowing she’d say no, then move on with his life and keep pretending everything was okay.

It was too late now. He’d spoken and the only thing Sam could do was finish his confession. 

The pain in Sam's chest made it difficult to breathe. But he stayed there, head up, holding Joe’s gaze. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Joe snatched the piece of paper away, shredded it, and threw the remnants in Sam’s face. “Well I’m not. So keep your sick self the hell away from me.” He shoved Sam hard enough to send him to the ground. “And if you tell anyone about this…” He raised a fist. “Just keep your faggot mouth shut and don’t ever talk to me again. Fuck, don’t even look at me.” 

Joe jogged across the field and disappeared between the houses, leaving Sam elbow deep in the leaves with only his tears to keep him company.