"See, as Far as I'm Concerned
My life is over.
My one forever love has been snatched away…
I am without a home,
without a single person to love.
And after having
discovered love, lived for a short
while surrounded by love,
this is too much to bear…"
From Burned by Ellen Hopkins.
Prologue
Night was falling in the thick trees. All I could see were his electric blue eyes looking up at me from where he lay desperately on the ground. He grabbed my hand and whispered hoarsely,
"It's time I told you the truth."
"No, Guage," I pleaded. "please. There'll be time for that later. We need to get you help now…"
"Mollie."
I broke down. "Please, no. Let me help you."
"Look at me," he scoffed, motioning at his limp body. "Even if I do make it, I'll never be the same…"
"I don't care. I swear to God I don't care. I just want you," I said weakly.
He looked me in the eyes and hi gaze told me what I knew and what he knew. I flung my head back in desperation, looking up at the blurry trees for the smallest fragment of hope. I looked back down at his beautiful face and said finally,
"The truth."
Chapter One
Silver clashes noisily with porcelain as my fork clatters from my hand and knocks against my half-finished plate of food. I push back against the table, the chair skidding on the wooden floor.
"I'm not putting up with this shit."
"Go, then. Run away like your worthless father," spits my uncle, drunk.
I don't respond. I just move as quickly and purposely toward the door as I can. I grab my jacket off the hook and storm out of the house. When I get outside, I pull on my coat, thankful for its warmth. The crisp November wind whips around me, stinging at my cheeks. I smell wood burning and I breathe it in deep. After digging gin my pockets for a minute, I pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I light the end, enjoying the burst of flame and take a long drag off it.
The instant comfort of cigarettes has me hooked. Isn't it ironic how I can't bear the natural task of just causing my chest to continue to rise and fall, yet I remedy this by polluting my chest with toxins? But I don't see it this way. I do what I have to do to survive. I know Dad wouldn't want me to smoke…
I swish my extraneously long hair behind me, lean against the house and smoke until the whole thing is gone and I crush it out with the toe of my dirty black sneaker. Momentarily, I close my eyes and roll my head back. But before I can become lost, the door opens quietly and my cousin Seth comes out. He doesn't even look at me, just heads toward his truck, calling, "Come on," over his shoulder.
I don't even know why I put up with my uncle, who they still call Eyeball, even though his gang days are far over and done with. I don't know why I put up with Seth, who never fails to remind me to call him Axel, a name given to him by his generation's continuation of his father's legendary gang, the Cobras.
I follow him. I haven't a clue where he's going to take me but anywhere has to be better than here. I think back to what I'd have to face if I went back inside: Uncle Eye slumped on the couch, watching whatever on his small color television and my mother, her elbows on the table, a glass of sherry in her hand. When my uncle and I started arguing, she didn't even look up, just took another drink and stared coldly and emptily at her plate.
After the motor finally turns over, I warm my fingers on the heater.
"Sorry bout Dad," Axel says suddenly. "He doesn't really mean it."
"Whatever."
My mind drifted back to the conversation leading up to the fight.
"How many years has it been now?" he had slurred in my mother's direction.
"Two," she answered in her deadpan tone.
Uncle Eye snorted. "If he'd stayed out of other peoples' business this never would have happened."
He looked right at me, as if offering up a challenge.
"Even when he was a kid, he always tried to keep the peace," he continued. "He was always meddling around somewhere he didn't belong. The world doesn't need people like that."
"Shut up," I muttered under my breath.
His cold brown eyes bore right into mine. "Chris had it coming. And he deserved what he got."
After that…well there was nothing after that. I hadn't stuck around to listen to more of his insults.
"So, some of the guys are going to be at the diner," Axel said. "Thought you might want to get out of this place for a few hours. Goddamn, I'm nice."
I snorted. "Yeah. Thanks." The members of the gang were just a bunch of arrogant teenagers, if they were the same way as the last time I'd met them over the summer. Their so-called leader was a tall muscular guy nicknamed Guage, and Axel was supposedly second-in-command.
They all had ridiculous names: other than Guage and Axel, whose fathers had fit into the same hierarchy as they did (Guage's father was the former leader, Ace), there were Trigger, Frey, Colt, Jett, Torche and Fender.
The bell over the door to the diner jingled when we walked in. Axel peered casually over the heads of all the seated people before sauntering over to a table in the back where a handful of the guys were sitting. I recognized Guage, but he'd changed. The others, it seemed, had gotten taller and more muscle-bound but their expressions of cool overconfidence were still the same.
They looked up when we arrived. They had all been sitting slouched down with their arms resting nonchalantly on the backs of their chairs. Axel and I pulled over a couple of seats and sat down. I was stuck sitting in a plastic vinyl chair between Axel and Trigger and across from Guage. I placed my elbows on the table impolitely.
My heartbeat was painful, it was like my heart was beating a thousand times harder than it should, like it was working harder just to keep my head up. I could feel my pulse, just by tucking my hair behind one ear and resting my head in my hand. My head ached and throbbed behind my blue eyes. I just wanted a fucking cigarette.
I followed the gang's conversation silently, not feeling up to talking. But I paid attention nonetheless, especially to Guage. The few months between last June and now had changed him. His hair, which before had been long and shaggy, was short and gelled up in little peaks all over his head. I had never noticed his eyes before but they were an icy blue color that I have never seen, and behind them was a cool assurance. There was a chip in one of his front teeth but on him it looked right. He wore a simple white t-shirt and a red flannel jacket.
I would look at him occasionally… But I guess my brief lessons in romantics hadn't taught me enough how to be coy, because to my horror,
"You keep starin at me," he said, smiling out of the corner of his mouth. "Got somethin to say?"
Asshole.
"No," I answered.
"Where've you been?" he asked. "You never come around no more."
"I don't know. This year's been pretty rough."
"Come on over here," he commanded. I got up and walked over to him, leaning down.
"Yeees?" I asked with false politeness. And then in a surprise move, he reached out a muscular arm and pulled me by the waist onto his lap.
"I give up," I said and leaned back against his warm chest. My heartbeat raced, but for once it didn't seem like my heart was going to fall right out of me. It just felt right.
He held onto me for awhile and both of us continued to talk to the others. I kept zoning out and then I'd get to thinking and that was exhausting. I exhaled deeply during a stall in the conversation. He turned his magic eyes on me. There was a jolt somewhere in my stomach.
"Tell me about you," he said.
"I'm seventeen. Blonde hair, blue eyes, just like my dad's. He died when I was fifteen and now my mom drinks to drown his memories. I need a haircut. My jeans are holeyer than the Bible."
He looked down at my knee where there was a fraying rip and stroked it with his finger. His hands looked tough as calloused… There was an electric leap somewhere inside me.
"And I can't stand Jon Bon Jovi," I added.
He sniggered. "Well, at least you've got your priorities straight, then. Lemme ask you something. Something important."
"Hm?"
"Boxers or briefs?"
"Well… depends on the mood, I'd say."
He laughed openly.
"Okay. Now a question for you," I said.
"Anything."
"Do you have a car?"
"Yes."
"Good. You passed the first test."
"Are there more?" his blue eyes flashed.
"Yes. The next one: get ready. Do you have a light?"
"In my pocket," He winked.
I waited expectantly.
"Oh, am I supposed to get it out?" he feigned curiosity.
I sighed and reached into his hip pocket on the, let's say, close-fitting blue jeans he wore. I felt a couple dollar bills but no lighter. My hand shifted in the opposite direction, coming in contact with something else, and I felt his body stiffen. "Other pocket then?" I asked.
"That's the trick," He glinted his eyes at me.
Reaching in the other one, my fingers made contact with a small plastic object, that I knew was a lighter. I took it out and flicked it open, lighting the cigarette I'd taken out of my pocket. I took a drag, instantly comforted.
Guage fingered the fag out of my hand and took a drag off of it, then handed it back. We did this until it finally burned all the way down and he put it out with his black boot.
I became instantly bored and nervous once I didn't have a smoke to occupy me. I took to drawing with my finger on the top of Guage's legs. After awhile his hands started to shake. I noticed and whispered in his ear, "Want me to stop?"
"Never."
"Kay then," I said, writing his name over and over again in a simulation of my loopy print.
"I don't remember your name," Guage whispered to me.
"Mollie Chambers," I answered curtly.
"Guage."
"I know," I said coldly.
"Hey, don't be cruel. How about a little lovin?"
I looked at him. He gave me a winning smile, and I decided that he just wouldn't look as good without that chip there in his front tooth. He smelled wonderful, like aftershave and tobacco. I leaned down a little—
Axel pushed up from the table, hard. "We gotta go, Mollie."
I rolled my eyes. Guage laughed. "Maybe next time," he said.
Axel and I walked across the parking lot in silence. The smell of burning wood still hung in the atmosphere. I breathed it in, and for the rest of my years whenever I smell burning wood I am back in that little diner, sitting on Guage's lap while he thrills me just by speaking and laughing…
The ride how was mostly silent too, with Axel's hands gripping the steering wheel hard, his knuckles white.
"You stay away from Guage," he said finally. "You'll just get hurt."
"Since when do you care?" I replied rudely.
"Whatever, be that way. You'll find out soon enough."
I shifted in my seat so that I was facing the window and he couldn't see my face. "I don't even like him," I said.
"You almost kissed him, you liar!"
"Yeah, damn right I did, until someone had to ruin all the fun."
"You sound like a guy. 'All the fun?' What the hell, Mollie?"
"Let me tell you something about girls: we're not all the same. Some girls go around saying how every guy they've ever dated is a total deucebag and how they just want someone fucking nice but their generic excuse for not going out with someone is that lame 'you're nice but you're just like a brother to me.' It's bullshit is all it is. I don't like him and he doesn't like me, and no one is pretending otherwise but you."
This whole rant was superfluous. So what if I did like him, a little?
My eyes darted briefly to his side of the truck. He scoffed. "Girls are all the same," he said. "I can read you like a book, Mol. Don't try to pull one on ol' Axel."
"Go to hell."
He laughed and then I did too.
The house was silent and dark when we got back. We opened the door cautiously so we wouldn't wake anyone up. When we walked into the kitchen, I happened to look over at the table and was surprised, but not entirely shocked, to see my mother sitting there, a glass of amber liquid in her hand and a glazed look on her face.
"We're staying here tonight," she slurred. "I'm in no fit state to drive, Mollie."
I didn't respond, just walked quietly into Axel's room to find a place on the floor. I settled in among what felt like some t-shirts and waited for Axel to come in.
"Your mom's fucked up," he said when he arrived five minutes later.
"No shit," I said.
He laid down. It was quiet in the house, the only noise was an occasional creaking that the house sometimes made. Some nights when I stayed here, I'd go into my uncle's room and just listen to him, because despite the way I acted, I actually loved him infinitely. It was just a simple fact that I loved him better asleep. Some nights I would sleep on the couch in the living room, but I liked being close to Axel because I knew I was safe there.
"Hey," I whispered.
"What?"
"I'm glad I don't have a total assface for a cousin," I said.
"Thanks?" he laughed.
"Anytime."
He chuckled. "You too, kid."
"Thanks…"
I fell asleep fitfully that night. The hole in my chest had somehow gotten bigger, it felt like I had been drawing on the surface of my heart with razorblades… Maybe that was exactly what I was doing. I was drawn to this conclusion because every time I closed my eyes, Guage's smile floated to the surface. His eyes seemed real then.
I rolled over. I finally let Axel's rhythmic breaths lull me into sleeping.
The next morning I woke up stiff and aching all over.
"Uhgg," I groaned. The early light revealed what the night had hidden: the filthy mess that I had used for a bed last night.
"Oh, what the fuck," I said out loud after noticing that my "pillow" had been a dirty pair of jeans with what looked like motor oil all over them. Strewn all over the room were a variety of more dirty clothes and, could it be?, girls' clothes. I laughed and jumped on his bed.
"You assface," I yelled, pummeling him with my fists and laughing uncontrollably.
He grumbled incoherently and then overpowered me with surprising strength for having just woken up, pinning me to the bed.
"Get off, get off," I screamed and giggled, kicking him.
He flopped back down, letting go of me. "What time is it?" he asked grumpily.
"No idea," I said.
He grunted and sat up. "Come on…"
I followed him and shuffled into the kitchen. With her head on the table, and an empty glass laying sideways next to her head, my mother was slumped asleep. I picked up her wrist and peered at the watch on her arm. 10:24 a.m.
"Almost ten-thirty," I said to Axel, who was keeping his distance. He plopped down in a chair and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His hair was all mussed up and he looked just like he did when we were little.
"Aw, you're so cute," I said. He gave me a strange look. I cleared my throat. "Um. What are you doing today?"
"Oh, I see. Trying to flatter me so I'll take you somewhere?"
"No, actually. But I will if you want me to."
He laughed. "Probably the usual. Why?"
"I'm going with you."
"Says who?"
"Me, dipshit," I retorted.
"Why?" he asked suspiciously.
"Why not?" I said, shifting my eyes down to the table.
"Ohhh," he said annoyingly, smiling in a haughty way. His eyebrows flicked upwards and his eyes twitched over my carefully aligned features. "Like a book, Mol, just like a book."
Half an hour later, we were back in his truck, him fiddling with the radio and me wrapped up in a sweatshirt of his, staring silently out the window as the asphalt passed rhythmically under the tires.
He parked along a nondescript sidewalk surrounded by grey buildings where a few other cars were parked.
We got out and after we turned a corner, the gang came into view. I tried to look offhand and leaned up against the wall where Guage was standing.
"Back for more?" he said, low enough for only me to hear.
"You wish," I said, shaking a cigarette out of my pack. "Got a light?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the lighter. He leaned down to light my cigarette, which seemed like and especially sweet gesture, at least for him, but when he did he whispered in my ear, "I expect some repayment for this," his hot breath tingling on my skin.
"You're a fuckin animal whore," I whispered back, but I grinned and he smirked, winked at me and looked back up.
They talked about girls. They talked about cars. They talked about girls some more. And then they talked about, well, I don't know, actually. I was a mite preoccupied.
I started chain smoking. My back was leaned against the brick alley wall and my legs were crossed in front of me. My faded blue jeans looked so good with Guage's faded blue jeans…
"We need some more fuckin pills," Guage said suddenly.
"Get some then," sneered Frey.
"Shut the fuck up," Guage said. "I will. Come on, Mollie."
Guage turned to leave. He pulled my arm and we walked past the others until we turned a corner, when he pulled me close to him, his arm around my waist.
"What do you think you're doing?" I asked politely, smiling up at him.
"Wouldn't want people to think we're up to no good, would we?" He smirked. "Just a couple walkin down the street."
"Oh, we're a couple now? Didn't get the memo."
He nodded, unconcerned.
We walked a few blocks until we came to a shady-looking guy leaning on the corner. He and Guage greeted each other. "What you got for me, Locke, man?" asked Guage.
"Whatever you like," he said. "For a fee." His eyes lingered on my face and then my chest.
"Watch it, man," Guage said fiercely, following his gaze.
"Hey, sorry," said Locke, an evil glint in his eyes. "Didn't know you were so touchy about your bitches."
Before I (or Locke, apparently) knew what happened, Guage's fist was flying through the air and landing squarely on his jaw. More punches flew from Guage before the guy even had a chance to think about fighting back. Guage kicked him to the ground. His head lolled and a trickle of blood seeped from his nose. He started to sit up but Guage's boot met him in the face and his head went down again.
"Check his pockets for cash," he instructed me gruffly. I did as I was told. There was a wad of bills in one and Guage put something in his pocket from the other.
"Come on," he said when we were done. We left quickly.
"So where's that car of yours parked?" I inquired curiously.
"Up the street."
"Tell me about it."
"What do you want to know?"
"How big's the backseat?" I asked. He looked down at me, his eyebrows flying upwards. He gave me a toothy smile.
"This is wrong," I gasped ten minutes later, lying on my back, topless, in the backseat of his car. Guage's lips kissed mine. His hands were tangled in my hair.
I pressed him closer to me and tugged his shirt over his head, kissing him back feverishly.
"No one has to know," he said breathlessly.
I moaned and his fingers traveled lower to the top of my jeans. He clumsily unbuttoned the clasp and unzipped them. I did the same to his and before long, we were exposed.
There is skin, there are bones, and there are hands. His skin was so warm on mine that it almost burned. Tremors traveled up and down my spine when he touched me, when he kissed me that way…
Fifteen minutes later, we both lay winded, our chests moving up and down steadily, gleaming with perspiration.
"Holy shit," I breathed.
"Yeah," he exhaled and then smiled conceitedly. "Liked that, did you?"
"Fuck you," I teased.
"Okay," he said and dived onto me.
"They're gonna wonder where we are…" I trailed off as his warm hands made circles on my skin.
"Let em wonder," he said absentmindedly. I kissed his bare chest.
Lower, lower.
Higher.
We finally managed to get back to where we'd come from. He opened his door and got out. I turned to open mine but it wouldn't cooperate. He sighed exasperatedly and walked around the car to open it for me. He did and then turned to walk away.
"Try to keep up," he called to me over his shoulder.
I got in step with him. "What is it with you?"
"What?" he asked.
"You're so fuckin cold."
He stopped then and turned to face me. His eyes were smoldering with fire. Passion or rage. But not cold, no, I must have mistaken their rage and love? and sorrow for arrogance. Maybe that's what he wanted.
He placed his hands on either side of my face. They were radiating warmth. He took a look into my eyes with his flaming blues and kissed me fully and tenderly, pressing me against the brick wall behind us. His wet lips moved over my lips. Guage's eyes were open the whole time, still burning fire into mine. He pulled away and looked at me.
"Now will you shut up?" he asked and turned to walk away again.
"Yeah," I said to his back and walked faster to catch up to where he was hunched against the wind, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head down.