Page 66 of String Boys

Seth’s eyebrows knit together. “No. Nobody has ever told me that. Please don’t. It’s weird.” He had a small sheaf of printer paper in his writing folder, and he pulled it out and handed Kelly a spare pencil. “There’s better stuff in the pen drawer in the kitchen,” he said. “And I think we have printer paper—”

“You do,” Kelly said with confidence. “Your dad lets me use your printer, since I keep my tablet here.”

Seth smiled at him shyly. “Thank you,” he said. “You take care of my dad real good.”

Kelly let loose with a tearful laugh and grazed Seth’s cheek with his knuckles. “Yeah. That’s what happens here. I take care of your dad. If you need me, I’ll be on the couch, bleeding through a number two pencil.”

“Fabric cleaner’s in the kitchen,” Seth said, hoping Kelly was ready for a smartass comeback. “In case, you know, you get blood on the couch.”

“Asshole,” Kelly muttered, but he was smirking as he said it, so maybe he was healing after all.

Seth went back to work, but for once, he kept his brain in his kitchen instead of in outer space. He heard the pencil start tentative scratching on the paper, and for a moment, he kept his back ramrod stiff in case the scratching stopped. But it didn’t.

It kept going and going, hard and intense, like Kelly couldn’t draw fast enough.

And more.

A piece of paper was pulled off the top and replaced by another one. And another one. And another one.

Kelly’s breaths became labored.

Suspect.

Shuddery.

Seth held his own breath, his fingers hovering over his laptop keyboard.

Does he need me? Should I wait? What does he need?

“Seth?”

Seth was squatting by the couch before the syllable was out. Kelly had taken his drawings and folded them in half, and Seth had promised he wouldn’t look over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“I was raped.”

“Yeah.”

“It really sucked.”

“I know, baby.”

“But… but… it’s not all that’s ever happened to me.”

Seth pushed Kelly’s curly, coarse hair back from his forehead. “No.”

“Some shit has been really good.”

Oh. Kelly.“I really hope so.”

A smile flickered across his mouth. “I want to live for that stuff. I… that thing that happened in that tiny room. There’s so much more to my life than that.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m done drawing for right now.” He actually looked at Seth instead of at the papers in front of him, and held his hand out and stretched it. “Hand cramp.”

“You did really good,” Seth praised him. “Really good. You’re brave. You know that, right?”