Paper Prayer
By Willa Gaia
Rated M for cussing
Disclaimer: S'all Rob Reiner and Steven King's. I'm just borrowing.
Chapter 1
I can hear the creak of footsteps echoing through the silent house. My father's nightly prowls. Like an intruder, he creeps quietly in the shadows of the hall. I know because I've seen him. I also know I have three minutes between the time that he will open the forbidden door to Denny's room, peek into the darkness, and then move to my own.
Then he'll wait. His padded slippers glare through the crack under the door and I hold my breath. Waiting.
And the door opens and he stares at my old walls, still filled with the same pictures of star baseball players, cars, clippings from the crime magazine I used to buy every week, and that one of me and Chris, grinning shoulder to shoulder on the first day of junior high.
No football trophies, no scout letters. Not even any damn girls in polka dot bikinis.
And this is when I shut my eye's tight, even though the image has been burned into the back of my eyelids.
No noise, no visible movement, but I can feel it. The blank face, the mouth widening in speech as if he was about to state some mundane and inarguable fact, like the table of elements.
"It should have been you, Gordy."
And then the door closes and I am alone and alone I cannot withhold the gasping sobs. Wet streaks of shame, of pussiness, of the ultimate testament that I am not my perfect brother Denny, pool onto my pillow.
My pillow is wet till morning.
For three seconds, the dining room in the Lachance home looks perfect. The father sits at the head of the table reading the newspaper, absently dipping his buttered toast into coffee as his eyes track back and fourth across columns of black and white. The mother bustles about as the eggs chase the bacon across the frying pan, pouring glasses of orange juice and bowls of cereal. And then the son appears, clean cut, handsome in that acceptable way, and grabs a plate.
But then the observer might notice that the father tenses as his son sits down, and angles his body slightly sideways, as if warding off some unwelcome presence, some evil. Or how carefully the mother sets about each task, as if she had forgotten how to breath and was desperately trying to remember. Trying to not bring attention to herself. Or the dark circles under the son's eyes, how he flinches at each crackle of grease in the pan, how he physically turns himself from half the table where a fourth setting would be placed. Should be placed.
There is something wrong with this family, like they are bad actors for some commercial. Imposters.
"So…son", the imposter father begins, setting down the folds of print and carefully regarding his eggs, "Did Coach Shields post the cuts for the team, yet?"
"No" Gordy reply's dully, too tired to force interest. Ignoring the food on his plate.
"You should make the cuts. You're not as good as Denny but…not hopeless. And you are a senior this year, right?"
"Something like that."
There is silence for a few seconds, the father exhaling slightly in relief for he has completed the hated task of regarding his disappointing son, staved it off for one more day.
Gordy stares at his food, and after a few minutes he decides that it has loitered for long enough on his plate. He shuttles to the trashcan and dumps it all. Neither the mother or the father look up at this gross waste of resources, as if this is some preordained ritual, and he tracks back up the stairs.
The foliage has turned brown and red and yellow with the passing of the summer months and the start of the school year. It creates a colorful carpet as Gordy vaults the forgotten bushes, chocked with new growth and decay, past the spider web draped tree house and onto the road. Castle Rock hasn't changed much in five years, the same pastel colored cars flank the main street, the shops just awakening in the bustle of early morning commerce.
A wind sweeps across the pavement, sending leaves swirling into the air. Gordy draws his jacket tighter around him, trying to hide his neck in the raised collar and his hands in the felt pockets.
"Heya Gordy!" a voice calls, slightly obscured across the lane. Jogging into view is a stretched out leaner Vern. He'd lost the baby fat but he was just as bewildered a ever and in this Gordy drew comfort. It's nice to know some things never change.
"Gordy man oh man you'll never believe it! I just found out the bossest thing!"
Gordy waited patiently as Vern caught his breath, the warmth and excitement of Vern's flushed cheeks warming him like a Christmas fire.
"Ace got released!", he stated, carefully studying Gordy's face for reaction. Gordy contemplates in silence, and Vern must have found this unsatisfactory for he continued on in a rush.
"You remember Ace doncha? Well he remembers you and word on the street is as soon as he's back he's gonna kick your ass!"
Ace has always been a very menacing member in Castle Rock society but since his arrest and incarceration at the Oregon State Penitentiary, his reputation had reached epic proportions. Even Vern, who knew Ace pretty well and whose brother ran with his gang, could have sworn that he was seven feet tall, with a pair of bull mastiffs that were comparable in size to small elephants. Even more terrifying than the infamous ball-siking Chopper. But Gordy still remembered just as clearly what an asshole Ace was, and how much he resembled a wet rat at the other end of his pistol.
"You wouldn't let him though, right?" Vern sated, glancing at Gordy's newly defined biceps. He still got a kick out of the fact that one of his friends was a football player, varsity no less. "You gotta tell me your secrets, man. I cant believe you got buff so fast."
"Uhh..yeah I gotta go pick this thing up for my mom. Mind if I catch you later?" And without waiting for a reply, Gordy set off in the opposite direction at a brisk pace. After ducking around and making sure that Vern and his constant chatter was out of sight he sort of sighed. Memories of Ace brought up memories of that summer…and memories of Denny. All of a sudden Gordy felt like he wanted to escape but no matter what direction he ran in he could never get away. Not in this town at least.
Without really thinking he turned off the pavement onto the dirt path of the surrounding landscape. Cloistered by reaching branches and drenched in green. The immortal trees that never loose their color.
It lead up a small gently inkling hill. But Gordy hadn't eaten for three days and he was gasping for breath after a few short minutes. With no particular destination in mind, he merely sat where he stood, leaning against a friendly tree and fondling the cool dirt beneath his fingers.
He would have sat there all day, even into the night perhaps had Chris not spotted him on his way to school.
"What the hell…Gordy?!" he shouted, dashing up the hill terrified for a few seconds that Gordy'd been hurt of something horrible had happened.
"Man?" Chris asked tentatively, because Gordy sat there so still and silently, so lost in thought htat he hadn't even noticed that he was no longer alone. But then Gordy shot up like he was electrocuted.
"Holy shit! You scared me! How long you been standing there?" Gordy gasped, defensively crossing his arms over his chest because he was worried what Chris might have seen or heard him say, mumbling under his breath.
"How long YOU been sitting here, lard ass? Get the hell up! Class is in like ten minutes" Chris countered, reaching out a hand to haul him up which Gordy gladly accepted.
"I don't feel like going. I cant face all those…never mind. I'm not going, alright! Get off my case." Gordy turned away, to meander through the trees Chris-less and melancholy.
Chris looked after him for a few seconds, deliberating on his next words, "Gordy. Look I heard about Ace--"
"What about him?" Gory interrupted sharply, turning to face him. The sun shone behind his head, blurring his edges slightly. "What, you thinking I'm afraid of him? Like some pansy?" he couldn't keep the roughness out of his voice, there were those memories of Denny which always seemed to be bubbling just under his throat. IN shamed he turned again to run, but as he twisted to maneuver around a tree his foot caught an embossed root and between his sleep deprived state and tear blinded edges he just curled up on the floor, wishing he could just sink into the inviting earth.
"Yeah cause you are such a pansy," Chris laughed. When Gordy failed to get up he walked over to him, kicking lightly at his side. "Kay, stop the shit. Seriously we can still make it to first period and I'm not going without you. You wouldn't want to jeopardize my education now would you?"
Gordy chuckled weakly on the ground, "thanks for the guilt trip, I really need it right now." Chris kneeled down, framing his shining face between gentle fingers,. "Yeah I really think you do…" silence for a few seconds as Chris studied his face. His brown eyes crackled with that other worldly sense that always brought goose bumps to Gordy. Chris was a god in his past life.
"If you don't haul your pansy ass up right this second I'm going to carry you I swear to Christ."
"Nooo!" Gordy whined, trying to hit him and totally missing him.
"Right" Christ grunted, and slipping his arms around Gordy hauled him up fireman style.
"Damn I don't remember you being so bony—and so light! Are you a freak or something?"
"Jerk" Gordy accused, kicking him enough to get Chris to drop him gently on the ground. IN a slightly dejected voice he continued seriously, "Please don't make me go."
In that moment, Chris didn't know what was wrong with him, but he knew that he couldn't leave him alone for a moment because there was something missing from his eyes. That lively spark that was so beautiful when they were kids and that had been gradually, heartbreakingly fading since his family fell apart.
He stood up, thinking seriously, when his face broke into a wide grin.
"Wanna go fishing?"
A/N: So I'm defiantly going to hell for this story. To take a perfectly wholesome innocent coming of age meathead story and turn it into some slashy mushy emo disgrace defiantly deserves at least the seventh level. So read read read and review because hell's just a big dance floor with no air conditioning :DD