Santa Claus is Dead, and assorted Teen Angst
Shoplifters of the World, Unite
***
The next day Ronny was waiting for Mark in front of the school.
"Come on," he muttered, and started walking away from the school gates.
Mark was unsure of what to do. Missing class meant trouble and phone calls home.
"Don't worry, I took care of it," Ronny added.
They walked for half a mile to the drugstore in town. They walked in and headed towards the back of the store.
"The make-up aisle?" Mark asked.
"Yeah, do exactly what I tell you to."
Ronny picked up a bottle of black enamel, looked around casually, and let it fall into the depths of the sleeve of his coat.
"Your turn," Ronny said, pointing to some lipstick.
Mark furtively pocketed a tube of black lipstick.
"Come on," Ronny said, covertly grabbing an eye linear pencil on his way out of the aisle.
"M'am," Ronny said defiantly, placing a package of gum on the check out counter."
"Will this be all boys?"
Mark looked at her nervously, and began to open his mouth before being cut off,
"Yes, thank you," Ronny expertly finished.
As soon as the left the store, Mark started laughing hysterically. He was nervous.and thrilled. Ronny handed him a pieces of chocolate, he had ostensibly absconded with, and grinned crookedly at Mark.
***
They were back at school twenty minutes before the first bell.
"We don't have time for nail polish, but you can figure that out yourself," Ronny said, putting his hand on Mark's shoulder and leading him towards the boy's room.
Ronny chose, from the row of mirrors, the one furthest from the door. He stood behind Mark, and they both stared at their reflections. Mark was slightly taller than Ronny, and was blushing from his first shoplifting experience. His face was scrubbed clean and his hair stood awkwardly on top of his head. Above his shoulder, Mark could see Ronny's intense eyes staring up at the Mark's reflection through his furrowed eyebrows. His hair stood up, perfectly controlled and in defiance.
"Face me," he said to Mark as he uncapped the eye linear. "It going to feel strange, but trust me," he paused, "I won't hurt you."
Ronny held the black eye linear carefully, and traced the subtle curves of Marks closed eyelid. He could tell Mark was having trouble controlling his breath. Mark's lips were trembling.
"Now they can't see you," Ronny said breathing softly over Mark's face, "you have your mask, your war paint. Your eyes, your vision, your soul, are your own."
Mark nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Ronny had worked with so much care, so lovingly, so protectively. The pencil had lingered over each crevice, it had moved deftly, teasing the corners of his eyes. Ronny's breath tasted like cigarettes and strawberries.
"Don't open your eyes yet. I want to do your lips first."
Mark stiffened. He heard Ronny rummaging through his coat, then with a click uncapping the lipstick. His heart was racing; he could feel the blood pumping desperately through his body, down.
The lipstick was cold and sticky. Ronny pressed it from the center of Marks thin upper lip, to the side, drawing Marks lips into a grimace. The other side. Mark's lips were slightly parted and Ronny could hear him breathing hard. Ronny's hand was shaking. He forced himself to be still, and then shaped Mark's lower lips into a pout.
"Black is the color of truth, naked and ugly. Now your words are your own, but like Cassandra, we are cursed with the ability to see and speak the truth, but will never be believed or taken seriously."
Mark opened his eyes slowly, his face flushed and warm, tingling where Ronny's fingers had brushed against his skin. They both heard their own hearts beating as they stared at each other, dumbfounded. Mark felt as if he was being pulled by a magnet towards the other boy's face. They stared at each other through black lined eyes. Ronny felt himself drawn towards Marks face, tasting his wet breath. They were each other's only friends, only protectors. The world became suddenly silent, as they reached in towards one another, before the ringing of the bell erupted into the room. Ronny gave a start, straightening out and away from Mark. He opened his eyes wide, vulnerable, and then ran out of the room. Mark collapsed onto the sink, breathing out like he had been punched in the stomach. He inhaled deeply, and then steadied himself, and looked at the mirror. With a start he realized that he was now protected. He felt like a raging storm on the inside, but his eyes gave nothing away, his lips gave nothing away, he stared at the mirror darkly with a defiant black-lipped smile.
***
Shoplifters of the World, Unite
***
The next day Ronny was waiting for Mark in front of the school.
"Come on," he muttered, and started walking away from the school gates.
Mark was unsure of what to do. Missing class meant trouble and phone calls home.
"Don't worry, I took care of it," Ronny added.
They walked for half a mile to the drugstore in town. They walked in and headed towards the back of the store.
"The make-up aisle?" Mark asked.
"Yeah, do exactly what I tell you to."
Ronny picked up a bottle of black enamel, looked around casually, and let it fall into the depths of the sleeve of his coat.
"Your turn," Ronny said, pointing to some lipstick.
Mark furtively pocketed a tube of black lipstick.
"Come on," Ronny said, covertly grabbing an eye linear pencil on his way out of the aisle.
"M'am," Ronny said defiantly, placing a package of gum on the check out counter."
"Will this be all boys?"
Mark looked at her nervously, and began to open his mouth before being cut off,
"Yes, thank you," Ronny expertly finished.
As soon as the left the store, Mark started laughing hysterically. He was nervous.and thrilled. Ronny handed him a pieces of chocolate, he had ostensibly absconded with, and grinned crookedly at Mark.
***
They were back at school twenty minutes before the first bell.
"We don't have time for nail polish, but you can figure that out yourself," Ronny said, putting his hand on Mark's shoulder and leading him towards the boy's room.
Ronny chose, from the row of mirrors, the one furthest from the door. He stood behind Mark, and they both stared at their reflections. Mark was slightly taller than Ronny, and was blushing from his first shoplifting experience. His face was scrubbed clean and his hair stood awkwardly on top of his head. Above his shoulder, Mark could see Ronny's intense eyes staring up at the Mark's reflection through his furrowed eyebrows. His hair stood up, perfectly controlled and in defiance.
"Face me," he said to Mark as he uncapped the eye linear. "It going to feel strange, but trust me," he paused, "I won't hurt you."
Ronny held the black eye linear carefully, and traced the subtle curves of Marks closed eyelid. He could tell Mark was having trouble controlling his breath. Mark's lips were trembling.
"Now they can't see you," Ronny said breathing softly over Mark's face, "you have your mask, your war paint. Your eyes, your vision, your soul, are your own."
Mark nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Ronny had worked with so much care, so lovingly, so protectively. The pencil had lingered over each crevice, it had moved deftly, teasing the corners of his eyes. Ronny's breath tasted like cigarettes and strawberries.
"Don't open your eyes yet. I want to do your lips first."
Mark stiffened. He heard Ronny rummaging through his coat, then with a click uncapping the lipstick. His heart was racing; he could feel the blood pumping desperately through his body, down.
The lipstick was cold and sticky. Ronny pressed it from the center of Marks thin upper lip, to the side, drawing Marks lips into a grimace. The other side. Mark's lips were slightly parted and Ronny could hear him breathing hard. Ronny's hand was shaking. He forced himself to be still, and then shaped Mark's lower lips into a pout.
"Black is the color of truth, naked and ugly. Now your words are your own, but like Cassandra, we are cursed with the ability to see and speak the truth, but will never be believed or taken seriously."
Mark opened his eyes slowly, his face flushed and warm, tingling where Ronny's fingers had brushed against his skin. They both heard their own hearts beating as they stared at each other, dumbfounded. Mark felt as if he was being pulled by a magnet towards the other boy's face. They stared at each other through black lined eyes. Ronny felt himself drawn towards Marks face, tasting his wet breath. They were each other's only friends, only protectors. The world became suddenly silent, as they reached in towards one another, before the ringing of the bell erupted into the room. Ronny gave a start, straightening out and away from Mark. He opened his eyes wide, vulnerable, and then ran out of the room. Mark collapsed onto the sink, breathing out like he had been punched in the stomach. He inhaled deeply, and then steadied himself, and looked at the mirror. With a start he realized that he was now protected. He felt like a raging storm on the inside, but his eyes gave nothing away, his lips gave nothing away, he stared at the mirror darkly with a defiant black-lipped smile.
***