Page 2 of The Rebel of Raleigh High

Suddenly, I’m five years old again, watching owl-eyed as a woman with hair the color of sunshine kisses the small, golden medallion and tucks it inside her shirt. “St. Christopher, holy patron of travelers, protect and lead me safely on my journey.”

Jesus, the past is hitting hard tonight. It’s as if my close proximity to Gary’s empty carcass is opening all kinds of doors to the dead, and I can’t fucking take it a moment longer. Standing, freezing cold now that I’ve been still for a while and my sweat has cooled, I adopt a wide stance with my feet still planted on either side of the coffin, and I unzip my fly. “Sorry, Gary. But you and I both know you deserve this.”

Steam rises from the coffin as my piss splashes down onto Gary’s chest. I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time. It feels…Damn, it feels fucking—

“Hold it right there, kid. Stop what you’re doing this instant!”

Oh, come on.

I tense, freezing in place, every part of me rigid.

The female voice behind me is alive with anger as she repeats her command. “I said stop what you’re doing, asshole!”

I risk a glance over my shoulder and my stomach sinks when I see the uniform. The badge. The gun aimed at the back of my head. “If you’re referring to the fact that I’m still pissing, Officer, then I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. Stopping mid-flow is bad for the prostate.” I smile to myself, knowing I’m not helping matters. Fuck it though, right? I am going to be arrested. No doubt about it. And if my ass is getting thrown in jail for this, then I’ll be damned if I don’t finish what I started.

“Kid, if you don’t quit right now and put your dick away, you’re gonna get Tazed. You understand me?”

Ahh. Tazer, not a gun. Well, I guess that’s something. I surrender a long, resigned sigh. I do not stop.

“Last chance, dumbass.”

There are worst things to be in this life than stubborn and dedicated to a cause. And let’s face it…this opportunity will never present itself again. I brace, even though bracing is pointless, and I wait for the pain.

When it comes, lancing into my back, striking like lightning down my arms and into my legs, I retain just enough control to make sure I sag sideways into Gary’s grave and not forwards.

After all, the very last thing I need, on the back of such a long and successful night, is to find myself slumped over the deceased remains of the man who repeatedly beat me while lying in a pool of my own piss.

Somehow, through my gritted teeth, my tensed muscles, and the blinding ball of pain that’s lashed itself to my back, I manage to choke out a single, bitter burst of laughter.

The sound echoes like a gunshot over midnight Lake Cushman.