Page 65 of The Story of You

“Understood, amore. It will always be as you wish. Now, lie back.”

ChapterTwenty-Two

Simon ~ May 1986

Darius and I loved each other but we never liked each other likethat.

I liked Shane. The quiet boy with the rad undercut and long hair over top. It made him fierce as much as his silent energy did. Darius still had a crush on Asher no matter how much he denied it after the incident with Billy. Ash was just enough of a fucking dickhead—Darius’s type—and Darius wanted the sting of that.

He likes wrapping himself in poisonous nettles and seeing if he can survive it.

It was getting late one evening when we thought to try our fool-hardy plan. Or Darius’s plan. The lines of that were blurred. I know it began as his, but I eventually warmed to it as I got to know Shane from a distance. Darius would honor my stipulation. We would be thirteen before we tried if he still wanted to. He was angry at Asher.

Shane and I still didn’t talk much—other than the “had to” times—but we continued our strange shirt dance only now he had the knowledge we were dancing. I bravely wore one of his shirts in the daytime, in December after our Darius-forced interaction. He saw from across the field, and he smiled brightly against the dreary winter day. A secret smile, just for me.

When I deemed the shirt needed refreshing, I’d wash it and then leave it in the room designated for hand-me-downs and he would appear around the house in it for a day before he’d “accidentally” leave it somewhere, his woodsy scent clinging to it.

On another extra cold December day, he wrapped me in his red and black checkered mackinaw, when he saw me shivering, without a word.

I’d lost my parents—the people who were supposed to care about me the most in the world—but in their place, a grand hawk had landed to wrap his black feathers around me and give a fuck if I was warm or not. I craved that kind of care.

I had Darius, but he barely gave a fuck ifhewas dressed appropriately for the weather. Stuff like that wasn’t on his radar. He took care of me in other ways.

Winter was far behind us now and summer was on the horizon.

The sun had faded into oranges that blended to yellows that blended to pinks behind the large tractor with the tedder still attached, two of the few large pieces of equipment we had at Taylors’ farm. Shane sat in the box. It was shut down for the day, but he leaned against the dash, his feet dangling out of the side. Shane was never “short” but he’s so much taller now I want to call him short for then.

Asher’s shirt was tied around his waist with the bib of his overalls hanging, both buckles undone. His long, lean abs were on display and his skin—usually peach— was darkened by the sun. His straw cowboy hat tilted backward. He appraised us like an inconvenience and tapped off the cigarette he smoked. A couple of other boys stood with them, Jennings and Billy. It was a picture sane people didn’t approach. We weren’t welcome and that was clear. “You two’d better have a message from the grown-ups comin’ here,” Asher said.

In other words, he would kick our asses if we were just wasting his time. We knew we weren’t supposed to be bothering them. Asher believed in the dumb hierarchy we had as kids and even though we were finally teens, we were the lowest on the rung.

I was quaking. I wanted to turn and hightail it to the dock—the place Darry and I liked to hang out—but Darius stepped forward, squashing that idea. He wasn’t afraid. He appraised Asher with the same disdain Asher’d used on him. More maybe. His—what I now call—Randallness showing through.

“Or maybe it’syourlucky day,” he said.

Wait. Here? In front of everyone? Darius!

Asher was pretty. His long, dark blond hair had streaks of strawberry red in it. His face was long with dainty feminine features. But he didn’t have the serene personality to match. He would fuck you up. We’d seen it many times by that point. Darius was seriously tempting fate with him, something Darius still likes to do.

Asher sucked back more cigarette tar. “Get outta here ‘fore I put this out on your babyface.”

Do you think Darius turned around—like he should have—and forgot the whole thing? No.No.Of course, he didn’t. “Scared your punk ass can’t handle me?”

Asher dropped the rest of his smoke to the ground and pressed it into the dirt with his foot, twisting it from side to side. “C’mere so I can beat the fucking shit out of you.”

Darius knocked his head back, flicking the hair from his eyes. He needed a haircut, but we didn’t get haircuts too often at The Home. “Try me.”

The surrounding air tensed as we all waited to see if this was going to turn into a brawl that we were probably all going to get in shit for.

Thank God Darius was pretty. Something made Ash smile. “’Kay, stupid. You’re with me and your friend is with mine.”

My heart lifted—I wasn’t going to mind “doing” Shane.

It fell just as quickly when Ash said, “Jennings. Get over here.”

A heavy rock sunk to the bottom of my gut. No. I was supposed to “do” Shane not Jennings. Asher strode to Darius, putting a hand to his neck to drag him off, but not before Darius glanced over his shoulder to mouth to me thatI’d better fucking do it. I knew why. Aside from his massive crush on Asher, it was important for Darius to be in with these guys. He thought making out was the way to do it. To get power. Status.

Darius. He could do shit like that without being traumatized by it—he already had other, and what he considered bigger demons to deal with—this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. He didn’t understand that when we were kids.