So, this is a takeoff of Stand By Me the movie, or of The Body by Stephen King. The plot is pretty similar, but obviously the characters aren't, and the character's family issues aren't. I don't own anything by Stephen King, or MCR, or Counting Crows, or any other bands I reference.
Pairings: Can be up to your discretion. I was aiming for Kames and for some Ot4ness.
Warnings: Lots and lots of swearing, child abuse, mentions of suicide, original character death, a lot of crying
I hope you enjoy this.
We really can't say which choices will lead us to the rest of our lives. Oddly enough, the choices in this adventure didn't lead us to much at all. At least it didn't change what happened a few years later, when we were fifteen. Or maybe it did change everything, but we just try to put those changes behind us so we don't have to think about them.
It was the weekend before we all went to high school. I suck at storytelling, so I'm just going to tell you that we were searching for a dead guy. Yeah, that's right, the four guys from Big Time Rush used to hunt for bodies. Except that wasn't quite how it happened.
That was the year that my half-brother died. My dad and his wife never talked to me when I went over for court ordered visitation. She had never like me anyway. Guess that has something to do with the fact that I was the product of my dad cheating on her with my eighteen year old mom while his wife was taking care of a four year old son. Yeah, that's right, Kendall Knight is actually a bastard child. There's a reason why they never let us talk too much about Minnesota.
My dad wanted visitation rights. I guess he wanted something for his child support, and when I was at his house, he could make me do chores and make comments about my mother and weird ass friends. At first I got mad, but eventually I could snark back so sharp that he turned bright red and left me alone. The only one in that house that I could stand was my half-brother Dan, who taught me how to play hockey. When he died, he had a full ride hockey scholarship. When he died, he was coming to pick me up on his way to the rink. Bob Riley had been leaving the bar at that time in his big, red pickup and had met Dan on the road. It had been two terrible, agonizing days before Dan died.
It was on one of his weekend visitations that we heard about the dead guy. James, Logan, and I were playing cards in our clubhouse. We had found the abandoned motor home in the woods, and immediately claimed it as our own. It was pretty sweet actually, once we cleared out all the cigarette ashes, mouse droppings, and empty beer cans. We still occasionally found a nasty pair of underwear or a dead mouse, but that usually meant we could chase Logan around with it until he passed out.
Logan didn't like germs. His dad was a schizophrenic hoarder that got shipped to St Paul when he forgot to take his medications. Logan cleaned up his dad's shit a lot. He also was much smarter than us, which made him even weirder.
"What are the odds that you'd get four aces three times in a row, shit head, you're so fucking cheating," James squealed as Logan raked in our pocket money. Two of his prissy ass dimples carved into his cheeks as he contemplated the calculator he was gonna get with our hard-earned cash.
"It actually isn't odds, its chances. Odds are the ratio of wins to losses, while chances are the ratio of wins to all possible hands," Logan explained. Goddamn, we were stupid.
"What the fuck does that mean?" James asked, scooping up the cards to shuffle them.
"It means you're a dumbass, and if you keep accusing people of cheating, somebody's gonna beat your ass," Logan said and leaned back up against the dirty window, "That's what my grandma taught me,"
"And how to milk a goat? She must get plenty of practice in Bulgaria," I snarked. James guffawed loudly and high-fived me. Even Logan couldn't keep from smirking. He couldn't even talk to girls unless he was wearing a grandma costume. And James, Carlos, and I would never let it die.
Speak of the devil, the trailer shook when a large object planted against the door. We three all exchanges glances.
"Carlitos," We sighed in unison. The Latino lightning began frantically pounding at the door.
"Let me in, let me in, let me in!" Carlos said frantically, "I have to tell you guys something!"
"What's the password?" I called out to him. He growled and thumped into the door again. "Hijo de puta, let me in bendejo!" Carlos swore in Spanish and began pounding the door again. It began to creak and move. Logan swore.
"Fuck, just let him in, he'll break the door down again," he urged. I rolled my eyes and sighed.
"Pussy," I murmured and unlocked the door. Carlos poured in at once, falling to the muddy linoleum, and scrabbling for the seat next to James. James yelped and glared when Carlos elbowed him, grabbing his helmet and thunking it back into the wall. Carlos swore and elbowed James again. As they started their bitchfight, Logan rolled his eyes and subtly fed two aces from his sleeves into his hand. I was going to call him out, but I was too busy keeping them from continuing by dragging Carlos over to my seat with his helmet and landing a well placed kick to James' shin.
"Now take the fucking aces out, Logan," I growled and slapped the back of his head. With a sheepish look, he pulled them out again. James opened his mouth to start another argument. What the fuck?"Carlos, why were you freaking out," I asked, distracting James in the meantime. Carlos perked up instantaneously, all fights forgotten.
"The Riley brothers found Tommy Pelzo, I overheard them while building my web," Carlos chattered enthusiastically. He had an obsession with superheroes, and was building a web in the tree in his backyard. The Rileys, including Bob Riley and his two teenage boys, lived next door. Apparently they had been having a conversation, unaware that Carlos was listening in the tree.
"It was up by Wolf Creek, apparently he got creamed by the train and flew down there," Carlos yammered ecstatically, "We should go find him!" James nodded.
"I know Wolf Creek, we could walk there, follow the tracks, camp on the way, and be back by tomorrow at sundown," James said, catching Carlos' excitement, "We might get a documentary about us! It'd be the perfect way to kick off my career with some big press," he looked toward me, "What about you?"
I was teetering on the edge. I was the only one who had seen a body before, Dan's body. But I had this strange desire to see the body of Tommy Pelzo, because I had only seen Dan when he was all cleaned up and in his casket. I had an undying curiosity to see what Tommy would look like. "Yeah, for sure," I confirmed. Logan stammered for a while about morals and adults before he caved in. I began to scheme, "Good, now, Logan and James, say you're sleeping over at Carlitos's house. Carlos is sleeping over at Logain's house. We'll meet at the tracks in an hour."
With that, we all went to our respective houses. I remembered that Dan said I could use his camping stuff whenever I wanted. I guessed that he wouldn't mind, but the intimidating closed door did repel me for a good minute until I pushed it open. It was exactly as he had left it, and I felt my throat close several times as I pushed open his closet and took his pack with the tent and sleeping bag attached. It was pretty light, and I knew that it had various camping equipment in it. I fastened it onto my back. Noticing Dan's beanie, I grabbed it and pulled it on before I turned to exit the room. My dad stared at me from the doorway, a haunted look on his face.
"What are you doing?" he asked in a deadpan voice. I set my jaw defiantly.
"Going camping with James," I said. His eyes narrowed.
"The fag?" he asked, "Why are you taking Danny's things?"
"He said I could use them whenever I felt like it," I said and tried to walk past him, keeping my snarks to a low this time. Probably wasn't a good idea to piss him off. Unfortunately, he wasn't done yet. He grabbed my arm and made me stop.
"Why couldn't it have been you?" he crooned, "With your faggot friend, and your loser friends? Why did you, a bastard child, have to make my Danny drive and die?"
"Because he didn't want to be like his father," I hissed at him, pissed as fuck that he was insulting James and myself, and blaming me for Danny's death. My dad reeled and lifted his hand like he was going to hit me. I kept looking him in the eyes and didn't flinch. Eventually he dropped his hand, because only the trashiest assholes hit their kids in this town. I pushed passed him and got out of there. I honestly couldn't wait to get out.
I was wandering down the street when the motherfucker grabbed me around the waist and jerked me into the alleyway when I was least expecting it. I swore and kicked at him, and he fucking laughed at me.
"Fuck you James," I swore and fought my way out of his grip, past his tickling fingers. He giggled and let me go, gasping when I punched him in the arm.
"Chill, Kendork," he said and skipped merrily to the back of the store, "C'mon, I gotta show you something,"
I followed him to the secluded rear of the shops. Once we got there, he pulled his drawstring bag off and pulled out a pistol. My eyes bugged out.
"Where did you get that," I hissed urgently. James smirked and passed it to me. I stepped back.
"It isn't loaded," James sighed and urged me to take it. I took it from him and let it slip into my hand. So, this is what death felt like, cold and heavy. I aimed at a trashcan, but my finger was far from the trigger.
"Mom's boyfriend got it and likes to shoot at cats when he's drunk," James explained, showing me the box of ammo he had in his bag, "He won't suspect anything. He's passed out drunk on the floor now." His mom liked to collect deadbeats. Most of them were terrible to James. The one his mom finally settled down with, some wannabe rock star, was actually pretty decent. The one she had at the time was the worst. I sighed and let my finger drift to the trigger. My finger itched to pull it, and even though I knew it was bad to dry fire guns, I pulled.
BAM! My ears rung, my hand tingled, and I couldn't breath. I dropped the gun and tried to make my brain work. James was cackling and scooping up the gun, checking the barrel for any others and stashing it. I stared at the smoking hole in the trashcan, whimpering, as he grabbed my arm and dragged me out of there as the door of one of the shops opened. We got out before they could see us.
"Holy shit dude," James gasped, cackling. My eyes blazed and I lunged at him, pressing my arm to his throat angrily.
"You motherfucker," I hissed, "Did you know it was fucking loaded?" He got his breathing under control and emphatically shook his head.
"Dude, I fucking swear, I had no clue it was loaded. On my mother's life," he urged. I let him go with a glare before pinning him to the wall with my index finger.
"Forget your mother's life. Do you swear on your straightener?" I asked. James smirked and pushed me off.
"Swear on my straightener," James said, "Bastard must have kept one in the chamber." I sighed and took a deep breath. I was still shaking. He threw an arm around me and we began walking down the street again. Except it was obviously not our fucking day, because the neighborhood assholes happened to walk out of the drug store.
Todd, the Riley Brothers, and some other assholes began smoking as soon as they got out of the building. I prayed they would leave us the fuck alone, because I was not in the mood for them.
"Sup faggot," Bill Riley greeted, pushing James roughly. My beautiful friend tightened his jaw and kept his eyes to the ground. When I went to say something, he shook his head and gently squeezed my arm. I kept my mouth closed, even as Tom Riley fucking tripped him. Watching James land on the sidewalk on his hands and knees with a sickening thud made me want to explode, but something about the way James looked up at me with hard eyes kept me silent. I wanted to go on a rampage.
"He said sup faggot, be polite and respond," Tom snarled, and when James didn't respond, Tom kicked dirt in his face. I couldn't hold it back any longer.
"Wow, what a bunch of men, kicking around a kid who weighs half your size," I yelled indignantly. They all turned to stare at me, and James had a terrified look on his face, terrified for my sake, but I couldn't stop, "I guess I'd be upset too, if my face made girls scream and run away. What other reason would you have for never having girlfr-oomph" one of the other assholes shouldered me into a wall and knocked . Todd smirked.
"You're Danny's bastard brother, aren't you?" the ringleader murmured, stealing my hat, "Guess you have a lot to learn," I fumed and lunged at him. His assholes held me back.
"Give me my hat back, dick for brains," I snarled. Todd gave me an expression of exaggerated innocence, holding up my hat. He flipped open his Zippo, exposing a flame. "Oh this one? I was gonna burn it," he said, holding his lighter up to it. I fought like hell, but James lunged up and managed to knock Todd off balance. Distracted from the hat, Todd turned and grabbed James by the hair, pulling him sideways. I immediately wished that my hat had gone up in flames, because Todd was now holding the lighter close to my friend's face. Utter fear was carved into James' expression.
"Please Todd, please don't," James murmured softly, eyes fixated on the fire less than two inches from his face.
"Then you have to be a good boy and repeat after me," Todd cooed, " 'I am sorry that I am such a fag, but I can't help being attracted to man meat.'" I wanted to fucking murder him.
"I'm sorry I'm such a fag, but I can't help being attracted to man meat," James whimpered out and sighed when Todd released his hair and pushed to the ground. Todd dropped my hat into the dirt and stepped on it while walking away. They let me go and I rushed over to James, helping him up. He was covered in dust, but I got the majority off of him, then straightened his hair. He had a stone cold expression on his face and didn't move until I put my hat back on and slung an arm around his shoulders. By the time we made it to the tracks, he was back to being himself.
"We can get over halfway there if we cut through the swamp," James said happily, skipping over the tracks. It was amazing what being out of that repugnant little town meant to all of us. We saw everything in full color, not in grays and blacks. The wind blew at us over the marshy fields of hay. We lived in a piss ant town in Minnesota, and it loved to latch onto young life and drain it dry. Maybe that was why we were all so happy to be finally rid of it when Gustavo gave us the chance. Maybe that's why we were ok with going back. Except for James, because if the town had sucked him back in, he probably wouldn't have lived.
"When I was," I began to sing, "a young boy, my father took me into the city, to see a marching band." James perked up slightly with a smile. I continued, "He said, son when you grow up, will you be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned?"
"He said will you defeat them, your demons and all the non believers, the plans that they have made" James joined in, playing with MCR's dead melodies. Carlos and Logan began humming in the background, slightly off key. James kept it up, "Because one day, I'll leave you a phantom to lead you in the summer,"
"To join the black parade!" We sang together and began head banging as we walked along the train tracks. The Black Parade had been out for a while, and we all loved rock, even though they kind of sucked in concert. Logan and Carlos claimed they couldn't sing, but that didn't stop them from joining the chorus.
"We'll carry on," we all screamed at the top of our lungs, running down the fucking train tracks, our arms across each others shoulders. There was power in our voices. We didn't know the meaning behind the song then, we didn't tell each other the meaning at least.
It was a good two hour walk until Carlos bitched that he was hungry and we all froze to the tracks.
"Fuck, we forgot food," I swore, "How much money do we have, we'll stop at the PicknSave when we get closer." I pulled out my wallet. I only had five bucks left from the poker game. Carlos had a ten. James, who both sucked at poker and didn't have that great of an allowance to begin with, had two bucks. Logan pulled out a five from his wallet. James immediately jumped on him.
"You cheating bitch! You have more than that!" James squealed. Logan, being a terrible liar, coughed up the rest. I nodded appreciatively.
"Ok, so we have thirty bucks, that'll be enough for food for sure," I said, putting the money into my pocket. We conferred and decided that the junkyard was the best place to wait while one person grabbed chow. Actually, James, Carlos, and I decided on the place, then had to listen to Logan whining the entire time.
See, Old Man Reynolds owned the place with his pack of pit bulls, at least that's what we believed. Still, it was enough of a risk to intrigue us, and to make Logan want to wet his pants, which just made everything more interesting.
It was simple enough to climb the fence and to find a neat little hideout, but to decide who was going to leave to get food.
"Flip," I ordered and pulled out quarters. Of course, karma shined on me. James cackled and tousled my hair.
"Go fetch, Ken-Dawg," Carlos snickered. I flipped all of the bastards off and headed over to the shop.
It should have been simpler. Why can't people keep their fucking mouths shut? I had an armful of hotdogs, sodas, pop tarts, and buns when I went to the counter, but the cashier had a mouthful of tobacco and a head full of spite. "Aren't you Dan's half brother?" He asked me, slowly dragging items over the sensor. I nodded and pulled the wad of cash out of my pocket. He peered in and looked at me, "Doesn't look like having a meth head for a mother hurt you too badly, you look just like Dan." These were the times when I was glad Logan liked to give lectures.
"Did you know that chewing tobacco causes mouth cancer?" I said sharply. The old man shut up, "It causes white fungus-like tumors to grow all over the mouth and tongue, and your tongue grows long white hair. Sometimes, people have to get their entire jaws removed to cure it, others can't stop the cancer from progressing," The guy was glaring at me and hurriedly swiping items across, throwing them in bags. I wasn't finished yet, "But the worst thing is for people who swallow the juice. They get ass cancer and have to shit in a bag. I don't know why people would chew tobacco, do you?" I asked, shoving the money over to him. He handed me my change and snarled at me.
"Get out of my shop," he yelled and turned away. I smirked. Talk about my mother would he? I left the shop with the bag swinging.
As I stopped in front to stash all of the food in the waterproof sack in my bag, I found myself spitting on the floor. My mother had been fucked up as a kid, like everyone else, only her vice had been drugs. That's how she got involved with my dad, because she was high on meth. She looked older than she was, so she didn't look too far off from how old she should have been. Unlike my father, she fucking loved me. She said I was the reason why she got clean. So, when people insulted her, I let them have it however I could.
I didn't realize I was back in the junkyard until I heard my friends screaming at me to run. I snapped back to life, saw the junkyard, heard barking, and almost pissed myself as I took off toward the fence my friends were falling over. I have never run so fast in my life, because all I could think of was the pack of pit bulls that was most assuredly on my heels. When I was a foot away from the fence, when I could see Logan's eyes widen, I launched two feet up on the fence, and scrambled up.
I landed on my feet, then rolled over and stood back up. Then I saw what had been chasing me. A short, squat golden retriever barked happily at me. I deadpanned and fell over, my lack of breath finally catching up to me. The other guys were cooing at the dog, letting it lick their fingers. Then Old Man Reynolds waddled up in his sweaty wife beater, screaming.
"Get away from my dog," He panted, "I'll have you arrested for trespassing!"
"You and what army?" Logan giggled. The adrenaline was making him more daring than usual. The old, fat man waddled up to the fence.
"I know you kids, I'll call your parents," he threatened, "Except for Mr. Henderson, am I right boy?" Logan went dead silent. The man's smirk grew as his lust for sadism hit on something juicy.
"That's right, Mr. Henderson in the mental hospital, talking to the aliens," Reynolds cackled, "The crazy fucker can't keep his kid in line when he's doped to the gills, can he?"
"Fuck you," Logan hissed and lunged at the fence. James wrapped his arms around him, keeping him from attacking and getting hurt.
"Police found him in a refrigerator in this here dump!" The man cackled, "Talking to aliens. I'd be fucked up too if I had a father like him!"
"You fucker!" Logan screamed, fighting against James with all his might, "My father is the best lawyer in this town!" James whispered into Logan's ear, trying to get through to him. "Up until he got towed away to St. Paul in a straightjacket!" The old man screamed. I flipped him off and grabbed one of Logan's arms. Together, James and I pulled the screaming boy away from the fence.
When he lost sight of the fence, he began sobbing angrily. Carlos and I averted our eyes, not wanting him to feel self-conscious. I would want to die if I cried in front of my friends. James merely held Logan's shoulders and stroked his arms while the shorter boy cried into his hands. We walked further and further from the fence.
"He insulted my father," Logan hissed, and James stopped to pull him into a hug. Logan angrily breathed in and out, his fist tightly squeezing James' shirt.
"Don't listen to that jackwagon," I urged, "People in this town don't know jack shit about parents, and you can't take what they say to heart." Logan sniffled and broke the hug he had with James. We began walking along the tracks again.
"We'll carry on," Carlos sang softly. James and I looked at him and he tapered off, humming it instead. Logan wiped his face off and took a deep breath.
"I'm ok," he said in a hushed voice, "I'm sorry that I ruined the fun." James smiled and threw his arm around the shorter boy's shoulders again. I stared at the tracks we were trampling on.
"Maybe," I started tentatively, "It shouldn't be that much fun. We are going to see a dead guy." The others nodded and we kept walking in silence.
Eventually we reached a turn in the tracks. James stopped and looked across the field before us, nodding to himself.
"Here's where we cut through the swamp," he said and began walking off the tracks.
"How do you know its right here," Logan asked skeptically.
"I've been here a hundred times, and the train goes around the swamp," James explained in a voice that said 'duh', "By cutting through it, we save a good hour walk,"
With a shrug, we all followed him through the field of wild hay and into the woods. It started out fine, but soon we were standing face to face with a butt load of water. James smirked and stepped out into the water. He only sunk ankle deep. We shrugged and followed after him.
Except just as I was shifting my weight into the step before me, I saw James going down with a splash above his head. Too late, I found no ground where my weight was going and fell into the water with a splash. Panicking, I splashed my way up to the surface and breathed in just as James did. Logan and Carlos had taken the steps after we had, and had taken longer to fall and come back up.
James squawked and patted his hair. With a grin, I reached over and dunked him just as Logan and Carlos came up gasping. He came back up with a scowl and splashed at me. I laughed and began swimming away as he and Logan teamed up to push Carlos under the water. I managed to get halfway to dry land before they noticed.
"Kendall's getting away!" Carlos screamed and they all began charging after me, screaming. I laughed at their idiocy and began swimming to the other side. Unfortunately, my giant wet pack was weighing me down. I just managed to push the pack onto the dry land and begin to clamber up when a wet, warm body landed on top of me, then two more lighter bodies on top. I groaned from the weight and began to wriggle around when fingers found my sides. Why the fuck was James always tickling me?
I craned my neck around to try to see what was going on when something black caught my eye on Carlos' neck. Squinting, I reached up and poked it. It was black, shiny, and squishy. It was also alive.
"Carlos, you have a leech on you!" I yelled. He screamed and began flailing around. Logan fainted on top of him, weighing him and James and I down so we couldn't adequately freak out. He woke up a moment later and yelled at us to stop panicking.
"Don't pull it off, you'll get infected," Logan said urgently, clambering off of us. We froze with fear. What if we were all covered in leeches?
Logan rooted through my pack for the waterproof container with matches in it. We shakingly started a fire, unable to check under our clothes for more of them for fear of passing out.
Logan burned a stick until the end was an ember. Then we took our shirts off and screamed again. Fat, black leeches covered our skin all over. As we screamed, we shimmied our jeans off and stood by the fire in only our boxers. They clung to our legs and thighs.
Logan, vaguely green looking, started on himself, burning them all off. When they fell off, we threw them in the fire. I had to take the stick and burn off the ones on his back. Then he did Carlos, burning them carefully so that he wouldn't hurt the shuddering boy. I looked over at James, who was self consciously backing up. He looked around, as if searching for a way to run.
"James, your turn," Logan said nauseously. His eyes shot open wide and he backed up. What the fuck was he doing. "James, what are you freaking out about, he's not going to burn you," I said. James kept backing up, his tan skin turning pale over the developing muscles. Even then, he was beautiful.
"I'm ok, I just don't really mind them," James giggled and tried to brush us off. I stood up, ignoring the gross feeling of leeches to follow him. He kept backing up, and eventually he just ended up tripping over the jeans wrapped around his ankles. I knelt next to him. He kept his back away from me, making me even more confused. Logan knelt next to him on the other side, having pulled his pants back up. James tried to keep us away from his back, but when I ducked my head around, his whipping around to keep me away exposed his back to Logan. Logan's face went slack with horror and he reached to touch the skin of James' back.
"Dude, what happened," Logan murmured from behind him. I gripped his shoulder and pushed him forward. Bruises lashed his back, obviously someone had taken a belt to him, and hit him hard enough to break the skin in some areas. They got worse as they got lower. I reached forward and tentatively touched the bright purple one on his shoulder. James hissed and scooted forward, closer to the fire, his eyes hidden from us.
"Nothing," James said and sat closer to the fire, "Just get these leeches off of me."
Logan and I shared a meaningful glance. Carlos bit his lip and squinted in pain, obviously wishing we had brought our cell phones so he could call his dad. I was fucking sick to my stomach, and not because of the leeches this time. I wanted to fucking pound someone into the dirt for hurting James. I wanted to murder someone.
Instead, I just shook angrily while Logan carefully burned off the leeches and soothingly rubbed James' arm. Then it was my turn. Logan really was cut out to be a doctor, because he was precise and quick with his cattle prod. I went to sit up when I froze. Something slimy brush up against my leg from my balls. Oh fuck no.
"Oh fuck no," I whispered, pulling my waistband out with a shaking hand. They all stared at me intently. Oh fuck no. There, cuddled up next to Frick, Frack, and Frank, was a fat ass leech. I felt myself getting lightheaded.
"Here," Logan said, holding out the red hot stick. I swiped it and shoved it down there and as fast and carefully as I could burnt the fucker off. Then I dropped the stick and felt the world go dark.
"Dude, Kendall, dude," Someone murmured, shaking me. I blinked a couple times as the haze cleared up. Someone had a big, warm hand on my stomach. I looked up and saw James leaning over me, his hand warming my icy cold skin. Carlos and Logan were staring wide eyed behind him.
"Huh?" I asked intelligently. James crooked a smile and pulled me up. His pants were still around his ankles, wet as hell. They were skinny jeans, and needed to dry off before they would fit. I looked at mine and noted that they would need to as well.
So we hung out by the fire for a while. We talked hockey and girls. James laughed and swore a little too heartily. I wanted so much to interrogate the answers out of him. I wanted to know the truth. But, I knew that I had to wait to get him alone, otherwise he would keep that wall up.
When the pants slid up easily and didn't chafe, we decided to get a couple more hours in. We walked through the swamp until we found the train tracks again, singing our ever-loving hearts out. By that time, the sun was setting and we were tired from the days events.
"Set up camp, I'll set up the tent," I said, throwing my pack to the ground. James and Carlos ran off to find wood while Logan started another fire. I unfastened the tent from my pack, then began to puzzle out the various poles and plastic flaps. Logan appeared by my side.
"Oh, here's the matches," I said, holding out the plastic tube. Logan took it, but didn't leave. I looked over at him.
"I'm worried about James," Logan murmured, "I think its his mom's boyfriend." I nodded.
"I can't bear to see him hurt," I confided, growling toward the tent, jamming poles into it. Logan grabbed the plastic and helped me feed it through.
"Me either," Logan whispered, "It's like someone shoved a burning stick into my heart when I see him hurt. I hate this stupid town for that reason." I nodded and checked over in the direction the two goofballs had wandered off in.
"They keep calling him a fag," I whispered, "I want to rip out the vocal chords of everyone who says that. They have no fucking right,"
"Fuck no," Logan snarled under his breath, "And every time I hear it, I know we gotta get out of this town, we can't be trapped here." I nodded and sighed, head and heart heavy.
"I have to take care of my mom," I said softly, "She needs me to be with her. She has no one else except my sister, no one to protect her. You need to get James out of here," Logan looked down. The tent was already erect.
"We couldn't leave you here," he murmured back, "James and I need you. You'd be trapped here." I sighed and shook my head.
"If I can get a hockey scholarship, I can get out of this town," I said, my heart heavy with the impending separation, "You and James and Carlos need to go to L.A, you'll be able to get into some little school and Carlos and James can work for the house there. I want to go there, but my dad won't let us out of the state without cutting our funds. It doesn't matter about me, as long as you guys get out." As much as it ripped me apart, I had to tell Logan that, because otherwise they would be stuck here. Logan sadly looked to his feet.
"We have four more years to figure this out," Logan said quickly, because we could hear Carlos and James approaching, "We're taking you with us. Your dad can't break us apart."
With that, he moved to start building a fire out of dry leaves and pine needles from across the tracks. James and Carlos giggled and dropped the wood by Logan's space. Then they noticed the tent.
"Dude, we aren't going to fit in there," Carlos poked the tent. I rolled my eyes.
"It'll be fine if we-"
"Don't say it," Carlos glared. I smiled cheekily.
"Snuggle," I sang. Carlos groaned and sat down on the ground near Logan. He lay back in the dirt and rubbed his stomach.
"I'm hungry!" he whined. I grabbed my bag and pulled out the food pouch. It had held up against the abuse we put it through, except the buns were kind of squished and the boxes of pop tarts were moist.
By the time the fire was ready for cooking and we had found hot dog sticks, we had already polished off one box of pop tarts. They were the chocolate kind, because we were planning on saving the blueberry and strawberry ones for breakfast.
The sun was resting on the horizon as we skewered the hot dogs and found our places around the fire, resting against logs and sleeping bags. I just felt at home.
"This is it," I said happily, "This is the best." The others nodded.
All of a sudden, Carlos whacked James' hot dog with his own, howling, "Weenie fight!" despite the absurdity of the name, and they began dueling with their hot dogs. Logan slapped Carlos upside the head.
"Knock it off, you're gonna drop your hot dog," Logan said and checked his own for warmth. Carlos pouted until his hot dog was done and his mouth was too full to pout anymore. I leaned up against the log I was sharing with James, and stretched my hand above my head. I felt it brush against the taller boys hair, and stroked it softly. James purred.
"I wish it could always be this way," James said quietly, "Living without fear or walls or pressure." I nodded and breathed in the sweet scent of nature. It was almost too quiet. Logan began to hum a familiar beat. I smirked.
"Pressure, pushing down on me, pressing down on you, no man ask for," I began singing.
"Oh under pressure, that burns the building down, split's the family in two, puts people on streets," James crooned.
"Be de dum, Be de dum, Badedum, Bededum, it's ok," Carlos hummed as Logan beat boxed. James and I finished the song and began brainstorming.
"I love Queen so much," James purred. I sighed.
"I wish I had brought my guitar," I said, "But it would have gotten wet."
"How about Round Here by Counting Crows?" Logan suggested. James and I shared a look and nodded in approval.
"Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white," Logan started, his voice not that bad actually, "In between the moon and you, angels get a better view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right."
"And I walk in the air, between the rain, through myself and back again, where? I don't know," James sang, "Maria says she's dying, through the door I hear her crying why? I don't know."
"Round here," we sang in unison, "We always stand up straight. Round here, something radiates."
"Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand, says she'd liked to meet a boy that looks like Elvis. And she walks along the edge of where the Ocean meets the land just like she's walkin on a wire at the circus" Carlos took the next part.
"She parks the car outside my house. Takes her clothes off. Says she's close to understanding Jesus. And she knows she's more than just a little misunderstood. She has trouble acting normal when she's nervous," I cried into the night.
"Round here, we're carving out our names. Round here, we all look the same. Round here, we talk just like lions, but we sacrifice like lambs. Round here, she's slipping through my hands," We sang. Throughout the rest of the song, we split up parts. God, it seemed like every song resonated through all of us.
We stayed up singing until Logan managed to fall asleep during Wake me Up When September Ends. Carlos scooped him up and carried him in the tent, laying him onto his own sleeping bag before stealing Logan's. Then he came and stood by the fire with James and I.
"So, we should probably do this in shifts," Carlos advocated, "I'll take the first shift, keep the fire going, make sure we don't get any bears,"
I nodded, but James looked vaguely worried at the thought of bears. He took the gun from his pack and handed it to Carlos, who looked intimidated by it.
"I'll take the next shift," I volunteered, "Then James, then Logan." Carlos nodded and went to chill by the fire. James and I spread out one sleeping bag and lay under our respective sleeping bags.
It was too short a time later when Carlos whispered at me to wake up. James was gone. Logan and I had managed to curl around each other. I stretched and crawled out of the tent, noting that Carlos quickly snuggled into Logan's reaching embrace for warmth. Asshole hated the word, but loved the action.
James was staring at the fire, a haunted look in his eyes. I wandered over and sat down next to him. He snapped out of it.
"You can go back to sleep, I can cover your shift," James murmured. I shrugged and pulled the gun out of his hands, putting it to the side. He hugged his knees to his chest. I snorted and scooted closer to him, draping an arm around his shoulder to ward off the chills going through him. I waited for him to talk to me, for once.
"There are times," he stuttered out, pausing, swallowing, then continued, "where I stare at the pistol and wish I could just blow my fucking brains out."
I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe. The only thing I could do was listen to him.
"I'm so sick of everyone ripping on me," he stumbled, "I'm tired of laying over the couch and taking the belt and wondering if I deserve that much pain. I'm tired of working towards a dream that will never come true. I'm tired of being called a fag. I'm tired of living."
When I could move, I moved. I dragged his pretty ass into my arms and broke down his walls. He lay in my arms, all muscle and limpness, and cried like a baby. He had never cried, even when he broke his arm in 3rd grade. I didn't really have any clue of how to deal with it, so I just pressed my face into his hair and pressed tiny little kisses all over his hair. It took me a while before I could talk.
"I fucking love you, man," I whispered, "Logan loves you. Carlos loves you. We'd all fucking die if anything happened to you. Logan and I were talking today about getting you out of this fucking town. He's gonna go to college in L.A. and take you and Carlos with him. It isn't you, it's this fucking town. It kills us to see you hurt and we want to protect you at all costs."
"What about you?" James asked through his sobs. I sighed.
"I have to get a hockey scholarship to support my mom," I said, feeling like I was bailing on him, "I trust Logan to take care of you." He pushed himself up. The tears streaming down his face destroyed me. I wiped them away with my thumb.
"I can't do it without you," James said, "I need you there. Please be there." I nodded. He leaned in and pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. I closed my own and pressed our lips together. It was my first kiss. It was soft and sweet and wet and terribly terribly sublime. His eyebrows knitted together and he went limp in my arms again. He lay down with his head in my lap. All of a sudden, I felt unbearably tired.
"Let's go to sleep, there's nothing out there," I said. He nodded and got up, and we kicked dirt over the coals. The tent was cramped, but Carlos quickly scooted over to let us into the middle. It was warm and safe in there, hugging James with Carlos hugging me from behind and my hand resting on Logan's hip. The gun was outside, hidden in James' bag.
The next morning, the sun woke us by cooking the tent. We burst out into the cool air, feeling years older than we had when waking up the day before. According to Logan's watch, it was seven in the morning. Way too early for a summer Saturday. Still, we dutifully packed up camp.
"Waking up too early, maybe we can sleep in," James sang as he brushed out his hair with no-water shampoo, "Makin banana pancakes, pretend like it's the weekend now."
It only took an hour more of walking before James pointed out Wolf Creek. Then we all froze, because there was a destroyed shoe tucked underneath the tracks. We were close, and we had never been so freaking terrified.
"There he is," Logan called out, pointing to a blue spot near the creek. We looked. A pair of legs popped out from underneath a fallen tree. He had been thrown from the tracks. Slowly, we made our way over to the body. Carlos pulled the branches off of him. His eyes stared up glassily into the sky, his entire body mutilated.
I slid to my knees. Danny's face smiled back at me. Danny's face in a casket as my family sobbed. My baby sister whining as I brushed and braided her hair over and over again, trying to stop thinking about Danny. Danny helping me stand on skates. Danny giving me a hockey stick. Danny tackling me so hard my spine crunched and I flew into a garbage can. Danny holding me as I cried because my father was so mean. Danny teaching me how to defend myself with words. Danny's dead face replaced the face of Tommy. His position looked painful. It had been painful for Danny. I hoped like hell it wasn't painful for Tommy.
I was brought out of my trance by a soft kiss on my cheek. I looked to see James kneeling beside me, cradling me in his arms. I hadn't even noticed slipping to the floor, or that I had taken my hat off and was squeezing it. My eyes clouded suddenly.
"Why?" I rasped, hot tears streaming down. I hadn't cried at all over Danny's death, "Why did he go?"
"It's ok," James murmured, petting me. I sobbed.
"No it's not," I said, trying to curl inward, but being prevented by strong arms, "It was my fault. I should have been the one. I'm a bastard that ruins everyone's lives."
"No, no, no," James urged, squeezing me tighter, "No it's not your fault. It's that fucking drunk ass's fault. You don't ruin people's lives, you fucking save them."
"I'm a bastard that ruined my dad's life," I protested.
"Your dad ruined his own. You saved your mother's life. You saved your sister's life. You saved my life," James whispered, his cheek to mine. I wiped my eyes, inhaling his earthy smell of sweat and shampoo as I got grounded. I needed to be strong. I needed to help Tommy's family. I knelt up and put my hat back on. James watched as I gently repositioned Tommy into a less awkward position.
Broken bones creaked and stiffness made it hard to fix him. I wanted to puke, but couldn't let it out. I stroked his puffy, swollen face and stood up.
"Logan and Carlos are getting branches for a stretcher," James murmured, "We could probably just get on the walkie talkie in your bag." I nodded and began searching for the device in my pack.
"Well look who it is," A familiar voice echoed through the clearing, "The fag and the hockey boy." I whipped my head up and saw Todd and his gang standing at the tracks. Logan and Carlos came bolting back, thick branches in their hands.
"Leave us alone, we found him first," Carlos yelled unconvincingly. The older guys just laughed. I snarled, then noticed James bag in clear view.
"Run for help, Carlos," I muttered. He looked at me, at my serious expression, and nodded. He tore off out of the gully. I stealthily began undoing James' bag and pulling loading the pistol. It was pointed toward me in the bag, so if it went off accidentally it wouldn't hurt James.
"If you leave and never speak of this, then we won't have to beat you," Todd cooed.
"No way in hell," I said sharply. James looked back at me. I touched his back and withdrew the pistol. Todd smirked and stepped closer, pulling his knife out and flicking it open. I stepped away from James. Todd's smirk dropped when he saw the pistol.
"You don't know what you're doing with that, kid," Todd smirked, giving the air of confidence, but his friends were already nervously backing up, "You wouldn't be able to kill a man."
I raised my arm and unlocked the safety.
"Try me," I whispered dangerously. Danny's face and James on his knees covered in dirt flashed through my mind. Todd began to back up.
"Ok, fine, you win this one. But we will be taking this out on you later, when you don't have a gun to rely on," Todd spat and turned to climb out of the ravine. I waited, gun aimed, until I couldn't hear them anymore. Then I let it fall shakily to my side. Logan reached over and touched my shoulders while James began to pry my fingers off of the cold, hard steel.
The odd thing is, is that I think I could have done it. I would have pulled that trigger and sent a bullet up through Todd's brain. I didn't care if I went to jail for it either. It would have gotten me out of this pissant little town. It would have protected James from what I knew was a fucking hate crime beating they were planning. It would have punished me for being born and causing the death of a wonderful kid.
Even as he had scrambled up the bank, I had been toying with the pressure on the trigger. Giving it almost enough pressure, then releasing it. The thing that kept me was the thought that one of the others would have taken the blame. Logan might have, or James, or Carlos. I couldn't let that happen to them, so I didn't do it.
All of a sudden, instead of one cold gun in my hand, there were two warm hands in both of mine. I broke out of my reverie and looked down at the small pale hand and the large tan hand clasped in my two. I followed them up to concerned faces, and Logan's arm down to where it had Carlos' in a firm grip.
"We aren't bringing him in," I said. I expected their eyes to bug out and them to protest, but they simply nodded. We covered him in a tarp. Carlos radioed into a random channel to tell some hikers about the body, and where the police channel was. We followed them to the channel to make sure they reported it before we began trekking back.
We took the long way home and talked about high school. Logan was taking smart classes, Carlos was taking the same classes as James, and I was planning on becoming captain of the hockey team.
"I'm gonna pick up the girls," James laughed, "They won't be able to resist this face." Carlos, Logan, and I laughed as we exchanged sorrowful looks. It couldn't have lasted, the bullying and the taunts and the physical abuse was too much for one kid to bear. We knew James would go the same way as his mother, jumping from one relationship to another.
When we got to the tracks, Carlos threw his arms around all of us and squeezed us tightly. James patted his helmet, and he tore off into the middle of town. Logan smiled and followed after him. Then it was just James and I. He turned to me.
"I wish we could always be like this," he confided. I nodded and we began walking towards our houses together.
"Don't," I faltered, "Don't let him hurt you anymore. Come to my house when that happens," He nodded, looking away. We reached his house first. It sat innocently on top of his lawn. He looked at it wistfully.
I looked around and noticed how empty the streets were. I stepped in close and kissed his lips, the only time I'd be able to do that in high school while we were in Minnesota. He kissed me back, his face contorted in pain, and when he broke away, I felt a part of myself leaving with him into his house. Then I headed towards my dad's house to drop off Danny's gear so I could go home and take care of my mom and my sister.
They managed to beat him and Carlos up. I had stuck close to James as much as I could, but he and Carlos had gone fishing while Logan and I were stuck studying for math. Two guys held them still while the others wailed on them with rubber hoses. There were no bruises, but they couldn't walk afterwards. Hearing Carlos gasping for help on the other end of the cell connection had me and Logan leaping out the window and getting to the clearing as fast as possible.
I used my hockey pull to get the varsity members to beat up Todd and his gang. They were a bunch of scrawny ass punks, so hockey players could easily get them. They left us alone after that.
We had started getting sucked into the small town, at least I had. I got a job as a cart boy and started going out with this pretty brunette. If Gustavo hadn't found us, I would have married her and settled down in that neighborhood again. James had kept singing, kept reminding us that we needed to get out, and he was really to blame for us going to auditions.
My dad had started building our relationship back up by the time we left, but that didn't mean I wasn't ready to be rid of him. Though he stopped making cruel comments, I could never forgive him for his harsh words against my mom and I. So I had no qualms about cutting him out of my life, and I think his wife was grateful as well. While he had raged at me for a good while about leaving family, she had smiled at me genuinely for the first time since Danny had died.
We went to Tommy's funeral. We gave his mom hugs. He was looking asleep in his casket, all hints of abuse gone, but I couldn't help seeing his broken, shattered body sprawled near Wolf Creek. I guess that was when death became real to me.
When Gustavo picked me out, the other guys berated me for hours. The town had captured me. Logan and James remembered our pact to get them to L.A. and it took them a good while of persuading until I had my brilliant boy band idea.
I hadn't wanted to sing or be famous. It would have tried to hide us again. I kind of hoped that I would get kicked out, until we all got kicked out, and I realized that the best and worst time of my life was walking down that train track singing songs.
Now we're famous. I'm typing this out on my laptop while James stares at me from the bed. We stole Gustavo's room with the king sized bed. He thinks we did it to fuck with him, but I wanted to have room for all four of us on the same bed. It's past one in the morning and I couldn't sleep. Logan and Carlos are curled into each other on one side of the bed. James has this adorable, needy look on his face.
I'm going to stop writing now, because I would much rather curl up with his warm body and bury my face in his soft hair. He still has nightmares sometime, we all do about that town that drags us in, but when we wake up in a pile of limbs, we know it'll be ok.
He's warm and soft when I climb into bed with him. I press my lips against his and he rests his head on my chest, his arm tucked around my torso. Then we sink into the softness of the bed and fall asleep. Tomorrow's a concert we're going to rock Big Time.
So...um, thank you for reading that particularly long fic. I've been writing crappy little articles for money, so if the writing sucks, I'm blaming it on that. Please review!