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Ricky’s heart was pounding, sending blood to all sorts of places and rousing his appetite. He didn’t like Diego, but man was he hot! All day he’d thought about the confrontation in the locker room, imagining it playing out in a different way. Diego would have met his challenge, pulling down his shorts to reveal… Well, he was about to find out! If he didn’t die first.

Ricky didn’t dare glance over his shoulder. Not until he reached the shadow of the trees. He stopped and waited, his nervousness increasing. As a kid, Ricky used to have nightmares about being lost in the woods, unable to find his way out again. He would run and run, never getting anywhere until he finally woke up sweaty and heaving. This place was like that nightmare, since so many paths snaked off into the trees.

“Keep walking!” Diego grumbled from behind.

Ricky stifled a yelp. “I don’t know where to go.”

“This way,” Diego said, taking the fork on the right.

Ricky did his best to walk next to him, which was difficult since the path was narrow and Diego was so broad. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“Somewhere private,” Diego replied.

“Are you drunk?” Ricky asked as they rounded a curve.

“No.”

“Were you this morning?”

“Yeah.”

“How come?”

Diego tromped carelessly over golden leaves. He wore heavy black boots. Doc Martens maybe. His blue jeans were rolled at the cuff to accommodate them. Beneath the open leather jacket, he only wore a tight gray T-shirt. “Because it helps,” he answered at last.

“With what?” Ricky asked as they rounded a bend.

“With everything,” Diego grunted.

“Maybe I should try drinking then,” he said under his breath.

“Why?” Diego asked.

Ricky was surprised that he was even listening. “I don’t know if I like it here. Kansas… This school… I want to go home.”

Diego glanced over at him, one of his black eyebrows raised. “Where’s that?”

“Colorado.”

His guide switched to a narrower path, forcing Ricky to walk behind him. “I want to leave too,” Diego said.

“Where would you go?” Ricky asked.

“Anywhere.”

The path ended in a small clearing. Diego stopped in the middle of it and scanned the trees. The branches were getting bare, leaves pinwheeling through the air around them, but from here it wasn’t possible to see the school or any sign of civilization. Which meant that Diego could do anything to him without witnesses—a fact that was both terrifying and thrilling. Those copper eyes finally locked on to his.

“Come here,” he said.

Ricky was practically trembling with fear or excitement. It was hard to tell anymore. He crept closer until only a foot of distance separated them. Diego reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal cigarette case. When he opened it, Ricky saw thin white papers and dried green shreds that had to be weed.

“What are you doing?”

Diego didn’t answer. He put one of the papers in his hand, dumped some of the weed onto it, and pocketed the cigarette case. Then, with surprising skill, his thick fingers rolled it all into a joint. He looked Ricky right in the eye when licking the edge of the paper to wet the glue.

“Wanna go first?” Diego asked, offering the joint.

Ricky shook his head. “I don’t do drugs. Although… It has been a shitty day.”