Page 18 of Darling Venom
Maybe because she was pretty.
Maybe because she cared.
Maybe because she wasn’t just another beautiful face to look at.
She was also great books and funny notes and encouraging words, praising the short stories no one else knew I wrote.
All I knew was, I’d started to see this little arrangement as the worst thing I could have done to myself.
The only thing to keep me going this year was knowing I’d get to hang out with Charlotte.
And when I did, I didn’t even tell her all the important things that happened.
Like that time Mark MacGowan shoved my head in the toilet after I’d almost broken his nose in a fight, and how all the other sweaty bastards in the locker room watched and cheered him on.
Like the fact that I’d started having wet dreams about her.
Like how I didn’t feel anything anymore other than confusion.
No, I basked in her Charlotteness, because she was rare and sweet and sunshine.
Then went back to my existence.
Too angry to listen.
Too jaded to care.
age sixteen
I arrived ten minutes early.
Kellan and I had kept the books and short stories tradition alive throughout the year, but lately, he’d been looking disinterested. More so than usual.
The circles behind his eyes had become more prominent, and a dark energy crackled around him, threatening to electrocute you if you got too close.
Still, I found myself trying to reach him, subconsciously or not.
Almost talking to him.
Almost touching him.
Almost hugging him.
I always ended up taking a step back, coward that I was. Kellan had made it clear that I shouldn’t—couldn’t—get anywhere near him.
I didn’t want to break the rules. I feared losing him. Not just as a friend, but lose-him lose him.
It occurred to me on multiple occasions that I should probably tell someone more qualified than me about the situation. I even got as far as waiting outside the student counselor’s office.
But then I’d remember every time they forced me to talk about The Night Of with adults and how each conversation only made it worse.
One thing that had changed this year was that I’d started hanging out with some boys at school. We grabbed a slice of pizza or walked the High Line or washed our hands in Sabon in SoHo.
I’d even let one of them kiss me.
Mark MacGowan.
Full disclosure: the kiss sucked.
