Arthur Inkheart was very excited.
“Tonight’s our first dance!” he told Keegan excitedly, springing alcohol from beneath his bed. The boys jittered in their dorm.
“We’ll be each other’s wingmen!” Keegan said sappily as they sipped the alcohol.
Absalom Catholic Academy, although a prestigious boarding school for grades 6 to 12, preserves its social functions for grades 9 to 12. It’s a big deal for first-timers.
When they had enough liquid courage, the boys departed. The dance quickly devolved into a slimy crotch massage, as was the custom of the times.
You’d think Arthur would be more interested in his potential virginity thief. Oh no! There was a drunken train wreck called Keegan to watch.
Like a chivalrous knight, Arthur peeled off his partner and ran to the rescue.
“How are ya bud?” Arthur hollered over the pulsating, mechanical music.
“Good – I’m – I might – be sick.”
Arthur guessed what he said and peeled off Keegan’s dance partner.
The duo passed the teachers who were entranced by the horny horde of teenagers. They were, as the Germans say ‘angepisst’ – oh, they were very angepisst!
Arthur brought Keegan back to the dorm.
“Did ya see her?” Arthur asked.
“Who?”
“That one chick.”
“No.”
“I didn’t either. She kept turning her butt to me. You were on booty duty Keeg.”
“What! Oh, I bet she was real skunky. Arthur, you saved me from a hot mess!”
“Maybe,” Arthur said, lowering him to his bed.
Suddenly, Keegan bear-hugged Arthur, dragging him onto the bed.
“You’re my best friend,” said Keegan, within intimate space of Arthur’s face, lying beneath him in a drunken embrace.
“You’re mine too – now would ya mind –”
“I’m so happy! ‘Cause you are – you are my best friend.” Keegan’s soft hands cherished Arthur’s sides.
“That’s great, but…” Closer and tighter together Keegan towed them.
“You’re my best friend,” Keegan whispered in his ear. They were a kiss’ distance away. Keegan motioned for Arthur’s cheek.
“This is bad,” Arthur swerved his head away.
Soft, warm, honey sweet lips caressed Arthur’s neck as a soft, sensual breeze titillated his face.
“This is worse.”
Keegan’s lips were touching, just touching, Arthur’s neck as Keegan giggled. “Oops.”
“That’s enough!” Arthur jerked away, “Go – good night, Keegan.”
“I’m not even that drunk, Arthur,” Keegan said before he passed out.
Arthur twitched. He tossed and he turned; he turned and he tossed. He could not relax.
So he carved out his heart with a pen and let it bleed unto the page. He wrote:
I can’t relax because of Keegan. Sometimes he gets me so worked up I can’t sleep. You know how some people get you going so much you shake? And your memories of them are so intense they’re all you think about?
Jesus. I just read that last part. Listen, I know how it reads, it isn’t what it seems! God, that makes it seem worse!
Listen, please hear me out. I know how it reads, and I know what you must think of me. Oh, it rattles me. It feels like there’s bugs under my skin!
But listen to me!
It’s more complicated than that. Look at how I love Phoebe. I do love Phoebe. If you put the heat of a June sun, all the innocence of a kid, all the songs the morning birds sing – if you put that into one person it would be Phoebe Belle!
I know I have … things to figure out, but I’m only fourteen! Who’s really done figuring that out at fourteen? It eats at me!
Not that I’m against it.
Tyler Kingston, contributor
