Scott simply couldn't seem to calm down. He wasn't even sure what had riled him up so much. Was he really that upset by his brothers finding the lipstick? Or was it the fact that Gordon had broken his promise and entered his room, violated it so badly, sharing his ill-gotten gains for all to see.
The tube was smooth in his hands, and he turned it over and over, savouring its glossy smoothness as he used it to ground himself, to try to calm down. It wasn't the comments. Sure, it could be Mia's. She definitely wore a similar shade, and it wasn't as if he didn't know some girls…but he'd invited none of them home, let alone up to his room.
Gordon's idea that he wore it himself when he was out of their hair was laughable. He knew some men did wear makeup, couple of the boys in his class did, but it wasn't anything he had ever thought to do. And even if he did, Scott was pretty sure it would be red…
No, it was more than those thoughts that had made him so angry. What if they had lost it? Damaged it even. It was irreplaceable.
There was a small part of him that was saying he could simply share it with them, so that they would understand, but Scott shied away from this. It was his. The last tangible link other than flesh and blood that he had to cling to.
He closed his eyes as a memory assailed him. Sitting on the bed in his parent's room, watching his Mom getting ready for a rare night out with their Dad. He remembered being fascinated at the way she put on the lipstick, how colour miraculously appeared from the shiny tube. He remembered how she had picked him up and kissed his forehead and left a mark, a perfect imprint of her lips. When they had gone, Scott had traced the now vanished imprint while looking in the mirror. There was nothing there, but he could still feel it.
It had made such an impression on his four-year-old brain that at the next opportunity he had stolen said lipstick, messily applied it and spent an hour putting kiss marks on everything, including a very put-out Johnny and a giggly Virgie. When his Mom had finished whatever it was she was doing and discovered a hallway and lounge covered in pink kisses she'd laughed, and they had cleaned them off together. She'd missed a couple, and for the next few days they kept finding the odd one. Four year olds can reach into some odd places.
Scott stayed lost in thoughts and memories of happier and simpler times until the slamming of the front door signified Dad was back. And being Thursday, this meant a takeaway would be dinner, so there wouldn't be too long a wait. Sure enough, not ten minutes since his Dad had walked through the door and Scott was called down for dinner.
There had been hope that the hour or so he had spent upstairs alone had quelled his anger, but seeing his brothers all sitting there, as if nothing had happened, brought it all back up again, and all Scott wanted to do was get out of there. He couldn't though, not without making a scene, and that would mean telling his father what had occurred. That was not going to happen. So he ate the pizza as quickly as possible, not engaging in any conversation, and asked to be excused. If his Dad was surprised he didn't show it, for which Scott was very grateful.
He rushed upstairs and grabbed his gear, and five minutes later he was out of the house and tearing down the road. It wasn't usual for him to go out on a weeknight, but it certainly wasn't unheard of, and he prayed that his brothers kept their mouths shut and didn't tell their Dad what it was all about. He was pretty confident they wouldn't.
There was no plan, no end goal to the ride, but Scott wasn't that surprised when he found himself parked up at the cemetery. He made his way over to his Mom. Even in the dark he had no problem finding her. They had laid her and Grandpa to rest under an ancient cedar tree, apparently these trees were meant to repel evil spirits and Scott felt that he needed that tonight.
He sat with his back against the tree, facing the headstones, not speaking and just letting his mind drift for a while. He still had the lipstick on him, not daring to leave it until he found a better hiding place. Why was his brother such a pain in the ass? Why couldn't they just leave him the hell alone?
Of course, as soon as the thought had formed he was pushing it aside. His brothers were his all, even if they annoyed the heck out of him sometimes. It was just that he needed some time for himself, a place of his own occasionally. He needed space to think. Seventeen. He was off to college shortly, and that thought, the thought of leaving everyone behind, terrified him. It was a lot to process, and most nights he could be found here, talking to Mom and Grandpa about his fears. He knew his family thought he was out with the latest girl, but the truth was he was more often as not here.
It was getting close to his home time, he shifted to move then stopped. There were other people here, and judging from how loud they were, they were up to no good. Scott had once or twice come across a group of guys who had clearly been drinking, even though they were underage. Some of them were classmates. He hoped that they weren't the ones here today, he could really do without all that. He sank back down against the cedar, hoping that if he waited a couple of minutes they would leave.
They didn't, and Scott couldn't wait any longer. If there was one thing Scott would never do, he would never be late. The knowledge of how worrisome that was meant he never overstayed his curfew. So he got up and made his way back to the parking lot. He made it halfway before he was stopped.
There were eight of them, all drunk. Three he knew from school, the others he'd seen around, Scott thought that maybe they were slightly older. But it was the three from his class that concerned him. He had had run-ins with them before; and wasn't it just his luck today that they were here. And they looked very happy to see him.
Scott tried to sidestep out of the way, but the eight surrounded him. He was pushed. 'Come on, guys. I gotta go,' he stated, careful to keep his voice neutral. He did not want to be the cause of an argument, or worse. Instead of an answer he was pushed again, hard enough to overbalance.
As he put his hands out to catch himself he dropped something. Cursing under his breath, Scott reached forward to grab it, only to be beaten by one of the others. They held their trophy up in the meagre light, and suddenly Scott was being jeered and pushed around. They wouldn't let him get up, and he was fast losing his temper.
The lipstick. It had fallen from his grasp as they pushed him over, and now they were tossing it about like a ball, all the while jostling him to try to keep him down. Then someone dropped it and he lunged forward, managing to get his hand clasped over it as a booted foot stomped down hard.
Scott didn't really know what happened next. They went from crowing and messing around to kicking and beating in seconds, and he curled up to protect himself. He was vaguely aware of someone searching his jacket and taking his phone and wallet before he passed out completely.
As eleven o'clock approached, Jeff began to worry. Everyone but himself and probably John was asleep, and although eleven was Scott's cut-off time, he was usually in early. So when that time passed and Scott was not home, yeah, Jeff was worried. His son was the responsible one, his rock. Totally dependable. But he had been pretty angry when he had left, so maybe he should give him some space just this once. It was unlike Scott not to call if he was going to be late.
What if he had crashed in his anger? Jeff paled as the thought popped into his head. He hadn't wanted to get Scott a bike in the first place, but his son had argued for something just for him, and since Scott had already given up so much for his family, Jeff had found it hard to give any good reason why not. He made sure Scott had all the safety equipment needed, and Scott never went out without his helmet at the least.
11:15pm. Jeff caved. He called Scott's mobile but it went straight to voicemail. He called again.
11:30pm. Still no answer. Jeff called Eli Williams, the sheriff, to ask if there were any accidents reported. None today involving a motorbike, but Eli promised he'd keep an eye out for Scott.
11:45pm. Jeff called John down off the roof. Explained the situation. John left and got Virgil up, and although the teen was difficult to rouse usually, one mention of Scott not being home and he was out of bed like a shot. Virgil stayed home while John and Jeff went looking.
It was almost midnight when Jeff passed the cemetery entrance and spotted Scott's bike in the empty lot. His heart leapt into his mouth, and as he parked up he called John, who promised to be there in five minutes.
It was a ten minute walk through the cemetery to Lucy's grave. A route that Jeff had engraved on his heart. With all the possible reasons why his eldest son had come here scrolling through his head, Jeff nearly tripped over the unexpected lump on the ground, only seeing it at the last minute. In the quiet he heard a car door slam and knew that John was here too, as he bent to see what he had almost fallen over. Using the light from his phone, he drew a sharp breath in as he recognised Scott, all curled up, and he fell to his knees, fumbling for a pulse. It was there, but it was very weak. He let out the breath he'd been holding and checked his son's breathing. Again it was faint but it was there. Jeff stripped off his jacket and covered Scott and called for an ambulance.
John arrived just as his Dad finished talking, kneeling down besides Scott and placing his hand on his brother's face. It was cold. John startled as his dad knelt down too, brief hand to John's shoulder. 'We need to roll him into the recovery position, Dad.' Jeff nodded. Gently the two turned Scott into the right position.
As they turned him, Jeff noticed that Scott's hand was clenched shut. He needed that hand open to cushion his head, but the fist was closed tight. Glancing at John, who shrugged, Jeff tried gently to open his hand, but there was evidence that someone had stamped on it, bruises already forming and at least a couple of broken fingers in all probably. Leaving it as he didn't want to damage it further, he removed his coat and folded it up instead to use as a pillow.
It didn't take long for the EMT's to arrive, and the two stood back while Scott was looked over and rolled onto the stretcher. They all hurried to the ambulance, where John left them to go home. Jeff climbed up beside Scott but stayed out of the way as the EMT continued to work, hooking his son up to drip and other medical paraphernalia that Jeff knew he knew the names of but the details escaped him.
All he had eyes for was the boy on the stretcher.
As the woman worked on Scott the ambulance went over a particularly large bump, jarring the occupants. The woman swore slightly as Scott's arm fell over the side of the stretcher. The jolt dislodged the grasp he had on his hand, and there was a clatter and something rolled to a stop by Jeff's foot. He bent to pick it up.
It was a tube of lipstick.