Where You Lead

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"I would have thought you'd call to cancel to work on our scene."

Roger's voice, coming at him from behind, had a little laughter in it. Mark grinned and turned around.

"Hey, watching a movie will inspire me. I'm not here for recreation – I'm here to watch the acting and hone my craft."

Roger chuckled, shaking his head and turning in the direction of the movie theatre. "You are such a smartass."

"Thanks."

Mark grinned, just watching Roger's smiling face as they walked towards the theatre. He was surprised to find that he didn't feel any weirdness. After Roger had left, Mark had sat alone on the stage until Ms. Dalaine had come in, shocked to see him and immediately insisting he leave.

When Mark emerged into the halls, he was shocked to see it was already five-thirty. He'd stayed there, just silently thinking, for almost an hour after Roger left. And his mother was going to kill him for not calling.

Mark sighed, eyes trained to the school's pay phone. But at the last minute he swiveled, striding towards the school's doors instead. He needed to talk to Maureen – she could stop hanging onto Benny for half an hour, and he could call his mother from there.

When he got there, Maureen answered the door, smiling. "Hey."

"Hey. Is Benny here?"

"Come in," Maureen said, stepping away. "What? Oh, no, he's not – he left about ten minutes ago, said he needed to study for English." She rolled her eyes, then looked back at him, grinning. "You wanna stay for dinner?"

"Sure," Mark agreed, looking around and deciding Maureen's parents weren't home. "Can I just call my mom?"

"Sure," Maureen said, waving her hand and starting up the stairs to her bedroom. "Just use the phone in the kitchen – I'll wait for you upstairs."

"Okay. Thanks."

When Mark entered Maureen's room a few moments later, Maureen was stretched out on her bed and reading a comic book. She sat up when she saw him.

"Hey! So, what brought you here tonight?"

Mark flopped down beside her, stretching out and turning to look up at her. "What do people say about Roger?"

Maureen smirked a little. "You sure you want to know?"

Mark hit her side. "I asked, didn't I?"

Maureen stopped smiling. "For one thing, people think he's gay. Nobody's ever seen him with a girl."

Mark scoffed. "Like that's reliable evidence."

Maureen shrugged. "Whatever. Then there's that year he, like, disappeared." She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Apparently he killed a kid."

Mark laughed in her face. "That's ridiculous! Where'd you hear that?"

She looked away from him, a haughty look on her face. "Mark. It's, like, common knowledge." She shot him a look. "If you take the time to listen."

"I listen."

"Yeah, right."

Mark furrowed his brow. "I do."

"You hear," Maureen said. "That's different from listening."

Mark thought about that for a minute. It was true he was usually reading, or writing, or studying. And it always drove him nuts when his English teacher would ask them what the author meant by this word or that word. They just meant what they said. Right?

Mark sighed. He didn't want to tell Maureen about the hour or so in the theatre – didn't want to tell her about listening to Roger play his guitar and sing. He changed the subject.

"You sure it's okay for me to stay for dinner?"

"Yup." Maureen stretched her arms, then lay down beside him, turning so they faced each other.

"Benny won't be jealous?"

Maureen snorted. "Like I said, he's studying for English."

"You're not listening, Maureen," Mark smirked. "That's not what I asked."

Maureen blew out a frustrated air, turning to look at the ceiling. "Like he needs to study anyway."

Mark yawned. "It's not like it's just about grades. Benny's gonna write the next great American novel."

Maureen laughed, turning her body over quickly to look at him again. "You're kidding, right?"

"What?"

Maureen stared at him like she couldn't believe he could be so dense. "Don't fool yourself. Benny wants money, and he gets the best marks in English. He thinks he has a formula. He doesn't want to write a great novel – he just wants to write something that will sell."

"That's not true," Mark said, frowning, and Maureen snorted again. "Besides, is that any way to talk about your boyfriend?"

Maureen flipped over again, not looking at Mark. "God. I told you. He's not my boyfriend. We're not going out."

Mark rolled his eyes. "And I'm not Jewish."

Maureen sighed, rolling back onto her back to look up to the ceiling. "Look, Benny and I – we have fun, you know? But we're seventeen. It's stupid to limit yourself to one person." She grinned. "Benny and I have fun, we always have a date on Friday nights, but nothing's complicated, you know?" Maureen looked over at Mark. "Easy and fun. Nothing's better than that."

Mark looked at her silently, then turned to look at the ceiling, too. He wasn't too sure about that.

Mark looked at Roger now, who looked like he was frowning at the movie theatre. "What?"

Roger turned to him, scowling. "Fuck. I got the times wrong. The show we wanted isn't playing for another two hours."

Mark looked at the theatre as if he could change the times with his mind. "Seriously?"

Roger looked away. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. We'll just … do something else."

"Like what?" Roger asked, looking around the crowded mall.

"Well," Mark said. "We could just hang out here."

"The mall?" Roger looked at him quickly, then grinned. "No way. I hate the fucking mall."

Mark laughed too. "Okay. But they have that ice cream place here – we could blow all our ticket money there."

Roger shook his head, then looked at Mark a minute.

"What?"

"Well, look. My mom gets ice cream, I know we have some in our freezer." Roger grinned, flashing his teeth. "And it's a hell of a lot cheaper than the shit they sell here. Wanna come over?"

Mark stared at him a moment before catching himself and looking down. "Okay. Sure. Thanks."

Roger grinned. "Great."

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It turned out Roger had a car. Looking at him, Mark thought he shouldn't have been surprised. But he kind of was. It was an old-looking, run down little shit brown car, but it was Roger's.

"My mom gave it to me when she bought her last car," he said, tying Mark's bike into the trunk. "I was like, fourteen, so it's not like I could drive it then." He smiled. "But it sure made me work my ass off getting a part time job the second I hit sixteen so I could afford the insurance."

"Well, it's great," Mark said, climbing in as Roger got in on his side of the car. "My parents won't let me drive yet."

Roger shot him a look. "Really?"

Mark flushed a little. "If I cared, I'd make a bigger fuss. But I don't, so …" Mark shrugged. "It keeps my mom off my back."

Roger chuckled. "Cool."

He started the car, and they both lapsed into silence for the short ride to Roger's house. Mark snuck occasional looks at Roger, thinking it should probably feel more uncomfortable, riding in Roger's car like this, neither of them talking.

Mark sunk back into his seat. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It actually felt nice.

When they got to Roger's house, Roger got out first. Mark climbed out a little hesitatingly, taking in the sights. Roger lived in a nice neighborhood, in a small house that was painted a grey-ish blue. It didn't look spectacular, but Mark couldn't help giving a little exclamation when Roger led him to the back of the house.

"Holy shit."

Roger grinned at him. "My mom is a gardening freak. Every spring I have to get all muddy and disgusting helping her plant seeds. I hate it. But it turns out nice, doesn't it?"

Mark nodded, following Roger into the house. The garden was beautiful, a huge burst of color against the grayness of the house. The backdoor led straight into Roger's kitchen.

"Um, should I take off my shoes or something?" Mark asked, hesitating.

"Nah," Roger said, not even looking at him as he zeroed in on the fridge. He opened the freezer door, cool drifts of white flying out at him, and started rummaging. "Score! I knew we had some."

"What?" Mark asked, sitting down at the kitchen table. The kitchen was white with a big window, lit well, and felt homey. Mark looked down at the plastic-looking sheet covering the table and chuckled. His mother would have a heart attack.

"Cookies and cream," Roger said with a relish. "The two best junk foods in the world contained in one special little container." He set the tub of ice cream on the counter and started opening and drawers, getting out bowls and spoons.

"Thanks," Mark said, smiling as Roger handed him a bowl and then sat down across from him. "This is great."

"The ice cream is great," Roger agreed after swallowing a huge spoonful. "But it's not going to kill a lot of time for us. And I get the feeling you're in a 'killing time' kind of mood."

Mark grinned sheepishly. "I know I should be studying our scene. But I don't even want to think about it."

Roger waved his spoon. "Fuck if I care. I know my lines."

"Asshole."

Roger smiled and dug into his ice cream again. They ate silently for a few minutes, then Roger looked up, staring at Mark. Mark caught him and smiled uneasily.

"What? Do I have shit on my face?"

Roger sneered. Mark laughed.

"Right. Don't answer that."

Mark swiped at his face and Roger grinned. "No, I just thought of a great place we could go. And it's almost six …"

"What does the time matter?"

Roger smiled. "You'll see. What do you say, you wanna come? Do you trust me?"

Mark scooped up the last of his ice cream and shoved it in his mouth. "You just lead the way. I'll follow."

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"School?"

Roger parked and cut the engine, a little smile on his face.

"Seriously. You took me to school. On a Saturday. Are you trying to kill me?"

Roger's eyes twinkled, biting back a laugh. "You said you trusted me."

"And apparently I made a mistake."

"You didn't," Roger assured him, grinning.

"But what are we doing here?"

"Just trust my infinite knowledge and follow me," Roger said, hopping out of the car and turning to wait for Mark. As soon as Mark was beside him, Roger turned on his heel and started walking towards the school building, wind whipping his hair and looking back every so often to make sure Mark was still following him. He led them to one side of the building, then turned to Mark and grinned.

"You still up for this?"

"Yeah," Mark said, looking at him questioningly. Then he looked up and saw the fire escape, and looked back at Roger in time to see him start climbing up it.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered quietly to himself, but quickly followed Roger, climbing up the six flights of black metal stairs that led to the top of the building. When they reached the last stair, Roger turned to him, and Mark gave him a look.

What now, hotshot?

But Roger just grinned and reached his hands high in the air, leaping up and grasping the very top of the building. Mark swallowed as he watched Roger dangle, his legs scrabbling awkwardly before he managed to swing and haul his body up onto the roof. A moment later his head peeked out at Mark, and he reached down a hand.

"Come on, it's wicked up here."

Inwardly shaking his head, Mark reached up and took the offered hand, jumping and reaching up with the other to grab onto the roof. A few minutes of grunting and hanging later, Mark managed to swing his body up and clumsily pull himself onto the rooftop. He collapsed on the cement, breathing hard.

"Well," he gasped. "At least I know you're not trying to kill me."

Roger laughed out loud, and settled himself into a sitting position, legs crossed and arms behind him. "Quit being such a wimp and come look at this."

Mark pulled himself up a little and crawled over to Roger, slumping down beside him. Then he looked up and felt the breath leave his body.

They could see for miles up here. There were just little houses and rolling hills and a huge blue expanse of sky. Roger looked at Mark's expression and smiled, turning back to the view.

"See? Told you. And the sun's gonna set soon."

Mark drank in the view for a while, then turned back to Roger. "How did you ever find this place? How to get up here?"

"I was this rebellious little snot kid and one day I decided I was gonna make everybody pay." Roger grinned. "I came up here, all sweaty and dramatic, and was gonna jump off the side of the building. But then I saw this view, and …" Roger paused. "I don't know. I just calmed down. I always came here after my little sessions with Donovan."

Mark laughed. "You see her, too?"

The smile never left Roger's face, but it tightened a little. "Yeah. Your dad dies, you get an automatic pass to the school shrink's office."

"Your …"

"Yeah."

Mark swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Roger said, his voice tight. "Shit happens."

A silence fell over them as they watched each other, then looked at the sky.

"Maureen says you killed a kid." Mark blurted out suddenly, then blushed furiously. Where the fuck had that come from?

But Roger laughed, and Mark relaxed. "Maureen huh? That friend of yours has a mouth on her."

"So is it true?" Mark asked, smiling.

"What do you think?"

"I think it's bullshit."

Roger shifted slightly, leaning more heavily on his elbows. "Well, you're right. It's bullshit."

"So, why do – "

Roger turned to look at him and grinned. "I don't look like a big bad axe murderer, do I?"

Mark shook his head, smiling, the setting sun's rays feeling warm on his face. "No."

Roger sighed. "When my dad died … well, like I said, I acted like a little shit. But I was a kid, you know? Ten years old. And to this day I have to go see the school shrink because of these supposed anger 'issues'." He looked over at Mark, and everything felt normal and good again. "I actually got thrown out of my last school, so I guess 'they' weren't too far off the mark with the whole anger thing."

"What did you do?"

"I threw a bible at my religion teacher."

Mark laughed, looking at Roger, the way the orange light surrounding them softened his features. "Why?"

Roger was still smiling, but Mark saw that seriousness there again, like when he had said he was going to be a rock star. "He told the class that people who committed suicide went to hell."

They were both silent then, looking out into the horizon, blue sky and clouds pink and orange and gold, a balloon with a real estate advertisement painted on floating far in the distance, bright red against the light blue and pink.

Mark looked at Roger again, staring out into the horizon, and thought about what he'd said earlier, and felt a little stab of fear over it, over how he felt right now.

Because right now, Roger could jump off the end of the world and Mark still thought he would follow him.