Boy Toy

Marshall’s been a good kid, right?

Except for the initial, first night sneak out (his first and last) he’s stayed in, done his chores, obeyed the rules; he’s done everything a good little teenager should.

So he doesn’t see any reason as to why he shouldn’t be able to go out Saturday. But Marshall, being the little ball of nerves he is, is worried regardless.

Every fiber of his being wants to go and be happy, even with his “I’m not seeing Sebastian anymore” mantra from the past night. He changed his mind. Rebounds are fine and Sebastian is amazing.

He wants to go to the party more than he’s ever wanted anything, he thinks. Then again, Marshall thinks this about everything he wants.

He’s itching for the sweet, addictiveness that is nicotine wrapped in paper, or anything really, anything to calm his nerves.

You’re being a girl again, he tells himself, and grins a sideways, sort-of grin. He wanders outside and flings himself toward the black tar of the trampoline, exhaling deeply before pulling out the precious, crumpled box of Marlboros.

He tries to distract himself by thinking up a new plot for a new short story. His worn notebook is overflowing with the things, one or two standing out on the excellence scale but most just average. He’s written everything that comes to mind: high school tragedy, being in prison, being a soldier, prostitution. From the most cliché sweet, fluffy shit to the most gruesome, bloody murder, Marshall is pretty sure that he’s written it all.

He wants to write something scary this time, something chilling that would scare the piss out of little kids around a campfire but he’s not sure where to start. As he’s going over things, and crossing out ideas in his mind, he hears the faint noise of tires in the driveway.

He takes a long drag of his dying cigarette, inhaling as much toxicity as he possibly can, then stubs out the small stick on the metal ring of the trampoline.

He wipes his nose on the back of his hoodie and dismounts off the trampoline, heading around the front of the house to help Rebecca unload the groceries.

“Hey honey, how was school today?” she asks as she loads bags onto her strong arms.

“Pretty good for a school day,” he answers and takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the question he’s going to ask.

“So, Mom, I’ve followed the grounding rules, right? And it’s been a week and like, four days of my two week groundation. And uh,” he trails off, stuttering and searching for his next word choice. He’s running options through his mind when his mom lets out a sigh and nods.

“If I say no, I suspect you’ll sneak out again and yes, you’ve been good. It doesn’t matter where you’re going, I just want you home by 2:30 and the only thing I will smell on your breath will be Dr. Pepper.”

Marshall had planned on staying at Auden’s, but he decides to bring this up later and just give his mom a hug.

“Thank you!” he shouts, and runs inside with grocery bags dragging by his sides.

~

Sebastian meets Marshall at the gates again on Friday, and he’s grinning the exact same brighter-than-the-sun smile he has been and holds out his hand for Marshall.

“Saturday?” Seb asks, quietly, raising his other hand to fiddle with the turquoise glasses on his face. Marshall starts to grin a little bit, the right side of his mouth quirking up, and he nods.

Sebastian laughs and lets his covered eyes trace over every feature in the smaller, shorter boy’s face.

He’s trying to memorize every detail because he knows that remembering Marshall is
something that will calm him down and bring him back to earth, when he needs it most. He’s pretty sure that Marshall, as awkward and shy as he is, is some sort of angel that’s been sent to rescue him.

Sebastian isn’t quite sure how he knows this, but somewhere deep in the back of his head, a little voice tells him that what he’s thinking is true.

They walk in a different direction than the day before, heading for the barren skate park that no one uses anymore because of all the rust. The skate park is Sebastian’s solace, he finds comfort in the rusted and torn up metal. It’s the place he used to come back when Benton had been alive.

He could watch Ben skate for hours, never getting tired and only taking his green orbs off his heroic older brother to pee behind the tree a few yards off. Then, he would return to his self-claimed spot on the top of the baby ramp, just watching.

Sebastian leads Marshall to that place now, sitting down and taking a deep breath. In the many hours he’d spent talking with Marshall about himself, Benton had been something he’d failed to mention.

He starts to, he gets as far as the first syllable of his story uttered before he stops and shuts down. He feels his heart beating like rapid gunfire, and his mouth goes dry.

Instead, the older boy just wraps his arm around Marshall’s thin shoulders and pulls the smaller boy into him.

“I’m glad you can come, Mar.”