Flesh and Bone Read Online Free PDF Page B

stares. We’re not the only ones here in suits and dresses.
    â€œI want a glass of wine,” Mina says.
    â€œWe’re too young.”
    â€œFucking Americans.”

Sneaking
    T HE CHICKEN HOUSE sits in the pasture, a low, clapboard shack with ten, fifteen hens roosting in the boxes along the walls. This is where John John shows me the Playboys he steals from the stash in the garage.
    Chicken shit and feathers float in the dusty air. Light plays through the cracked walls. We sit in the back, looking at the magazines. I’ve never seen a naked woman before. Who would’ve thought women could have so much hair?
    â€œDon’t touch me,” he says.
    I wasn’t touching him, but he says it anyway.
    â€œYou ever beat off?” he asks.
    â€œNo.”
    It’s a lie. I beat off every day, in the shower, in bed. I can’t help it. Something possesses me and I beat off. Guilt and shame make me hide the evidence. Embarrassment makes me lie.
    â€œYou ever get head?” I ask.
    â€œI’ve had head,” he says. “It’s almost as good as sex.”
    I keep quiet, pretending to know what he’s talking about.
    â€œYou can’t tell anyone about these,” he says, shaking the magazine.
    Who would I tell?
    â€œDo you think I could steal one?” I ask.
    â€œWhat do you need it for?”
    â€œA little while,” I say. “Just a little while.”

Confusion
    â€œS HE SUCKED MY dick,” Richie says. “Right there at the party.”
    We’re standing in the Pit smoking cigarettes and a little pot.
    â€œYou were in the bathroom,” Ed says.
    â€œWho cares?” Richie says. “We were still at the party.”
    I don’t go to parties. Mom thinks I’m too young. I hang out after school though, smoking, getting high, talking about sex.
    â€œThe point is,” Richie says, “that she’s a skank.”
    â€œYet you fucked her,” Ed says.
    â€œI didn’t fuck her. She gave me head.”
    I’ve never had sex. Not with anyone else. I’ve never even come close. Girls don’t seem to think of me that way.
    â€œYou should give her a call,” Richie says to me. “She’ll take your cherry.”
    â€œMaybe you’re gay,” Ed says.
    â€œA faggot,” Richie says.
    â€œI’m not gay,” I say. “I like girls too.”

First Time
    B EKAH KEEPS HORSES in the pasture. A barn stands lonely and broken in the center. The horses stare at me as if I’ve done something wrong. Dogs trot at my heels.
    She lies in the hay. Dust dances in the light flowing through the spaces between the boards. She shows me her tits. Her nipples are small and pointed and I have no idea what to do with them.
    â€œYou can touch them if you want,” she says.
    Flesh gives and her breath is hard under my fingertips.
    â€œThis your first time?” she asks.
    â€œNo.”
    But it is. It’s my very first time.
    â€œCome here,” she says.
    She kisses me. Her tongue is rough and startling. Outside a horse calls. Outside trees grow into the sky.
    â€œI have my period,” she says. “But we can play.”
    I don’t know what that means, but the thought is nice.

Wishes
    O WLS SING TO me in the early, early morning. I sit in the window of my room and watch the lights from the cars on the road bringing the trees out of the darkness. I watch Mom come home from the truck stop just before dawn, the red fire of her cigarette staring through the windshield of her car. I meet her in the kitchen, where she makes coffee and sits for a while before bed.
    â€œNo sleep?” she asks.
    â€œNo sleep.”
    A scar runs from the flare of her nose to the corner of her mouth, thin and white against the sallow skin. Arthritis swells the knuckles of her hands. Her knees pop and grind when she walks.
    â€œAre you hungry?” she asks.
    â€œI could eat.”
    She makes eggs and