The Wicker King Page 8

  “What?! That’s two whole states away!”

  “Yup.” Jack rummaged in August’s fridge, taking out a couple of bottles of water. “And that’s where we’re going. We’re going to find the Rapturous Blue.”

  August didn’t even try to argue. He just slung his travel bag over his shoulder, tucked a blanket under his arm, and followed Jack outside. “Where’s your car?”

  Jack happily patted the side of a truck that stood where Jack usually parked his car. “My grandpa is letting me borrow his pickup. Anyway, I was thinking we’d drive until like three, then stop somewhere and switch.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Does this truck even have heat? I bet I’m paying for gas.” August could hear himself whining, but he didn’t care. “Why do we have to leave so early? I haven’t had breakfast…” He swung into the passenger’s seat and almost hit his face on the brown paper bag Jack was holding out toward him.

  “I know you, man. Peanut butter and banana, wheat bread, no crusts. Go wild.”

  “Oh.”

  He didn’t even bother to look at Jack as he snatched the bag petulantly. He knew the son of a bitch was grinning at him fondly or something. August began wolfing down his food and Jack put the truck in drive.

  PROSPECT

  Driving places with Jack felt safe, like riding with a parent. He was really good at it. Way better than August was. He’d learned early, when they were about fourteen. Sneaking Jack’s father’s car out of the garage at night to go cruise into the dark.…

  Jack’s grandpa’s truck didn’t have a radio, just rattling and the hum of the engine. Jack whistled quietly to himself while August chain-smoked and napped in the sun.

  “Are you seeing anything now?” August asked curiously, breaking the silence.

  “Always.”

  “Does it … you know … get in the way of driving?”

  “You’re asking me this after thirty miles?” Jack asked dryly. “I’m doing fine. We aren’t dead yet.”

  That was not a comforting response. “Can I just drive the rest of the way?”

  “Will you stop complaining if we stop at a Cracker Barrel?” Jack teased. “I know your complex relationship with that chain.”

  “Cracker Barrel is great. It is a restaurant and a toy store and a souvenir store all in one. We’ve been over this,” August said curtly.

  “Mmm.” Jack hummed in lieu of a reply. He sounded way too satisfied for someone who was most definitely going to be turning left into that parking lot and paying for both of their lunches. “Don’t worry so much. We’ll be finished with this and be on our way back home soon.”

  HICKORY

  Something suddenly occurred to August. “What ever happened to Carrie-Anne?”

  Jack paused for a second, then continued sawing away at his steak and eggs. “We broke up after Homecoming. We got into a fight. She … thought I wasn’t paying enough attention to her. I think she was starting to notice the—” Jack waved his hand around instead of describing what was happening with his mind. “Plus, she’s not exactly great at keeping secrets, so I couldn’t just tell her. I had to let her go.”

  August stopped eating and put down his fork. “You didn’t even tell me…”

  “Yeah, well.” Jack looked tired and embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry.” August didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t even noticed. “Really. I mean, I hated her, but you really liked her…”

  “It’s okay,” Jack mumbled. “We’re too busy for that right now anyway. It’s not important. Finish your food. We have to get back on the road.”

  DUSK

  August drove until after the sun went down. Jack had fallen asleep almost as soon as they switched seats, after handing August a crumpled piece of paper with directions on it and curling up toward the window.

  August felt young as he drove in the dark in the middle of nowhere—a place with no houses or tall buildings or people around. Just miles of road and grass and cars and the sound of Jack breathing gently in his sleep beside him. They were only seventeen. The world was so big and they were very small and there was no one around to stop terrible things from happening.

  Suddenly he felt panicked. He wanted Jack awake right now. “Jack. Jack!”

  Jack shifted sleepily, but eventually turned and glared at him. “What?”

  August didn’t know what to say; he hadn’t thought that far.

  “What?” Jack asked again, sounding annoyed. “Did you want to switch?”

  “No. I just … got bored.”

  Jack looked at him skeptically.

  “It’s fine. It’s nothing. Go back to sleep,” August mumbled, embarrassed.

  Jack sighed and reached over, gripping the back of August’s neck firmly in his hand. The tension instantly bled from August’s bones and he breathed out softly. “We’ll stop in an hour.”

  MOTEL

  There was not much sleeping that night.

  They had both stared at the mottled, ratty hotel carpet for at least five whole minutes before collapsing together onto the single bed. Now sleeping with Jack was a hot, terrible ordeal with far too much elbow for August’s tastes. The sheets were too scratchy and stank of the person who had lain in them before they did. But it was better than the floor.

  It was hardly the first time they’d done this. They’d shared all the time when they were kids, Jack jabbing his sharp little knees and elbows into August’s side in his sleep until August could take no more and shoved him unceremoniously off the bed and onto the floor. Then, to top it off, August would inevitably wake up with drool on the back of his neck, Jack having snuck back in while he was asleep …

  “Get up.”

  August opened his eyes. He didn’t remember drifting off, but apparently it was morning. Jack was dressed and packed. He looked like he wasn’t interested in dealing with anyone’s shit. August scrambled out of bed and started shoving his legs back into his jeans.

  “We have to leave before three o’clock so we can be there by six thirty and be on our way as quickly as possible. I’m going to go grab some coffee. You should stretch a bit. We’re going to be digging.” Jack strode out of the room without a glance backward.

  ROPE

  “How much time do we have?”

  “A half hour, maybe less. I know it’s down there. I don’t know how far or whatever, but I’m sure I’ll be able to find it pretty quick. The real task is not getting caught. This is shoot-first-ask-questions-later territory. And when I say pull me up, you pull me up as fast as you can.”

  “Pull you up?!” August spluttered. “You have like thirty pounds of muscle on me. Why can’t I be the one who—”

  “I’m not in the mood,” Jack interrupted, glaring at him.

  August slumped in his seat and sulked. This was the worst road trip ever. When Jack reached toward him, August jerked away. “What?!”

  “You have something on your face. Let me get it,” Jack said, looking away from the road for a moment.

  August frowned warily but sat still while Jack rubbed his face with the ball of his thumb. “Christ, you’re such a child,” Jack muttered.

  August didn’t dignify that with a response.

  DEPTH

  They wound up not having to dig at all. It was on a farmer’s property in a well.

  An ordinary well.

  “Try not to breathe what’s down there,” August warned just before Jack climbed in without a word. He watched as Jack sank into the gloom. August would later say that this took less than a moment.

  When he pulled Jack up, the rope heavy in his hands, he looked to see what Jack gripped tightly between his blackened fingers, wet with dirt. The token worth a hundred miles. The Rapturous Blue.

  It was a rock.

  Gray.

  Plain.

  Nothing.

  RAPTUROUS BLUE

  Jack let him hold it as he drove them back home. “Try not to look directly at it. It’s too bright,” he’d said as he gingerly hand
ed over the rock, which he’d wrapped in his scarf.

  August said nothing. He just took the rock and held it close. He didn’t unwrap it; he didn’t try to look at it. He just held it and tried not to cry. How did Jack even know where to go? Did it even matter?

  He thought about Roger’s phone number scrawled messily on a scrap of paper shoved into his desk drawer.

  He thought about the look on Jack’s face when he’d pushed him out of his car and said he didn’t need him anymore.

  He thought about just going home and sleeping forever.

  It began to snow. It was almost Christmas.

  CHROME

  The drive passed quickly in silence. When they got back into town, Jack pulled into August’s driveway and shut off the truck. August handed over the Rapturous Blue and Jack placed it gently in his lap.

  “Thanks for, you know … coming with. I know you didn’t have to.”

  August shrugged. They sat silently in the dark.

  “Jack … I…,” he started to say. But Jack wouldn’t look at him. “Are your parents going to be home for Christmas?” he asked. It wasn’t what he’d planned to say.

  “Yeah. My dad called when you were sleeping and said he planned to come home. He even said he’s bringing a tree!” Jack sounded happy now.

  Good.

  “Okay,” August said as he unlocked the door and stepped out. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’re going out into the field.”

  He didn’t hear Jack drive away until he’d closed his house’s door safely behind him.

  THE FIELD

  As soon as they pulled up next to the field, August flew from the car and hit the ground running. The weeds and grass whacked at his jeans as he tore through the growth. He was glad that it hadn’t snowed here. He could hear Jack behind him. Coming up swiftly.

  This wasn’t a race.

  August sped toward the middle of the field, breathing the cold air quick, and Jack laughed. They thundered across, sneakers slipping in the dew, hearts pumping, throats heaving.

  Caught. He could feel it. He was caught.

  His lungs were crushed beneath long arms as they tumbled to the ground. Rolling rough, through green and gravel, biting and scratching like things that had claws and fangs instead of teeth and nails. August was pushed and pulled and rubbed in the ice-cold dirt, but he gave as good as he got.

  “Call me ‘sire.’ Honor your king.”

  August just laughed. Jack slammed him down hard with a strong hand on his back.

  Oh. So it was like that.

  He resisted for longer than a moment. But it was just resistance. Not rebellion. “You’re crushing me, sire,” August said with as much sass as he could manage. He panted loud and hot into the grit.

  Jack’s gray eyes look light blue in the light. He let out a single breath that sounded like a smile.

  POINSETTIA

  His mom was upstairs and she was beautiful in red. Her hair was swept off her shoulders and she had earrings in her ears. She was even humming as she made Christmas dinner. August clung to her and kissed her cheek.

  “Where’s Jack?” she asked, stirring cheese into the macaroni.

  “His dad is coming home.”

  “Are you sure? Call him before dinner starts.” She ran her fingers through his hair, then wrinkled her nose. It had been weeks since his last haircut. August rolled his eyes—of all things she’d notice, it would be that. But to his surprise, she just shrugged and patted him on the cheek. “You never know. Make sure to call.”

  He hummed his assent and went to go phone Jack in the hallway. Jack’s cell phone rang until August was certain it would go to voice mail. But it didn’t.

  “Did he come?” August asked.

  Jack sobbed.

  August put his shoes and coat on and went out into the cold.

  GIFT

  Jack lay on the floor next to August’s bed on top of an unzipped sleeping bag. He’d wrapped the comforter and sheets that August’s mom had especially reserved for him into a circular sort of nest and curled up in the middle of it.

  She had even gotten Jack presents again this year, as if she’d expected him to come to Christmas all along. Even though they were struggling to get by and Jack could afford to pay for their entire Christmas dinner with the pocket money his parents left for him.

  August peeked over the side of his bed and looked into the pile of covers. “Are you still awake?”

  Jack didn’t respond. He wasn’t asleep, August knew that for certain. Jack snored like an engine full of glass and this was not that sound. This quiet, angry breathing was the sound of August being ignored.

  August sighed. “If I ever see your father again, I’m going punch him in the face,” he promised.

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  JANUARY

  August sucked the cold winter air through his teeth, then put out his cigarette on the side of the building. He spit on the ground quick and looked up to find Roger and Peter standing there watching him.

  “You look haggard,” Peter said bluntly. Roger pinched his brother and gave August an apologetic grimace.

  “Well, it’s nice to see the two of you haven’t changed much over break.” August shifted his bag over his shoulder and started walking toward their school’s front door. They followed him.

  “Gordie was looking for you,” Roger said quietly.

  They talked well enough when the three of them were alone, but he could already see Roger shutting that down in public—with Peter following his lead, as if in sympathy.

  “We have to go now. But good luck,” Roger murmured.

  “Try not to fuck up things while we’re gone.” Peter sniffed as they walked past.

  Yeah, whatever.

  FINE FIERCE FIFTH

  Gordie found him between fourth and fifth periods. “Missed you,” she said, pushing him into the unused teachers’ bathroom on the third floor.

  He took her shirt off in a flurry, the two of them scrambling into a stall near the back. She sucked him off like they did this every day, then rode his fingers. Gordie laughed and said that his hair tickled her face as he kissed her neck. She squirmed in his arms with delight when they had finished, and called him pretty.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said with a smile. “Get to class, you delinquent.”

  August watched her go, then wiped his hand on his jeans.

  RUCK AND MAUL

  “Where you been, man?”

  “Nowhere. I’ve just been working through some stuff.” August heard them before he saw them. Jack’s friends had him backed against the lockers. “Are you joining cross-country with us during the off-season?”

  “No. I can’t. I’m busy.”

  “But Coach needs you, man! We’ve gotta stay in shape between seasons.”

  Jack looked up sharply and spotted August before August could duck back around the corner. Jack looked directly at him and said: “I’m not going to be there next season. So I don’t need to join cross-country this season. I have to go.” Then he pushed his way through his ex-teammates and walked down the hall.

  “What do you mean, you’re not playing next season?!” August asked as Jack passed.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s go.”

  OCIMUM BASILICUM

  August decided to go over to Jack’s after school to cook him some food. He didn’t know how to make much—just basic things like chili and grilled cheese and stuff. But Jack needed a home-cooked meal. Jack’s parents hadn’t been home in weeks. Hadn’t been home since before Christmas. Their mail was so piled up under the mail slot, August briefly considered just shoving it all into a garbage bag and throwing it in their bedroom. It made him angry.

  So here he was, trying his best to make a lasagna from instructions on the box.

  Jack walked into the kitchen, leaned against the doorframe, and watched him quietly. August tossed a glance at him over his shoulder, but neither of them said anything. He felt Jack watching as he laid the nood
les in a dish and poured sauce over them, then laid more down and spread the shredded cheese, arranging everything until he was satisfied. Then he slid the dish into the oven.

  “I wish you could live here with me.” It was almost a whisper.

  August washed his hands in the sink and dried them roughly with a dish towel. “I can’t. You know I can’t. My mom, she—”

  “I know. It was a wish, August.” Jack finally moved from his spot near the door. He sat down at the kitchen table and held his head in his hands. “Why won’t they come back?”

  “I don’t know,” August said firmly. “You have to stop thinking about it. You’ll destroy yourself. After dinner, we’re going to the river.”

  August walked out of the kitchen so there was no room for argument.

  VASSAL

  Before they could reach the water, Jack slipped his hand into August’s. He did it without asking. With confidence. Like it was meant to be there. August was pulled—complacently at first, then under wild protestation—right into the river. Pulled him in with their clothes still on and the water still rushing. So cold that it was but a mile and a minute from ice.

  Jack pulled him in almost to his chest, then rested his head in the curve of August’s neck. “What would you do for me?”

  August shivered while he thought up an answer. “I don’t know. Anything, probably.”

  “Do you really mean that?” It wasn’t said with softness. It sounded like a threat.

  Jack, misinterpreting August’s silence as denial, dug his fingers into August’s flesh. August gasped at the pain but didn’t pull away.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of the water,” August said gently. “Let’s go home.”

  BLEED

  A lot of people were absent from lunch on Monday. This left him at the table with just Alex and Jack, who had emigrated quietly over to their friend group after quitting the team. Alex was studying for an AP exam and had spread her papers all over the place. August knocked the side of Alex’s notebook away from her tray.