{Jon}

The next day at lunch, Jon joined the circle of smokers at the north doors. He wasn't hungry, and there was something about standing shoulder to shoulder with Mike and his friends and smoking a borrowed cigarette, that covered up the stuff that was hurting so bad.

When the class bell rang, Mike nudged him and said, "We're heading downtown to hang in Gazebo park. Coming?"

Jon turned from the school doors, feeling interested in something for the first time that day. "Yeah. Heck yeah."

They piled onto the city bus: Mike, Fierce Girl and her friend, a skinny kid with a beanbag, and Jon. It felt good to be in a crowd, kind of like he belonged.

Gazebo Park was a lush, grassy space flanked by old buildings whose worn sandstone still retained some dignity. There was, in fact, a gazebo as well as some picnic tables—all with flaking brown paint and fresh graffiti scrawl. The girls spread themselves out on the grass, exposing as much skin to the sun as possible. Mike and the skinny kid started to kick the bean bag, taking turns getting as many hits as they could before the bag hit the ground.

Jon watched until Mike hucked the bean bag into his chest with a ricey 'thunk.'

"Quit spectating," Mike said.

Jon tossed the bag back and joined them, a smile tugging at his lips. He had quick hands and feet; he picked the game up fast.

When they took a break, sprawling on the grass, the skinny kid dug into his backpack and brought out a hand-rolled cigarette to share. Jon passed it to Fierce Girl without putting it to his lips. He wasn't sure that was tobacco inside the twist of paper.

Mike kept the cigarette, lying back in the grass to finish it. Jon drew his knees up, uncomfortable for the first time. A couple months ago he had never even seen a joint up close. Looking up, he saw another kid sitting on the steps of the church. He recognized Cary's jacket.

Getting to his feet, Jon crossed the grass towards the steps, feeling lighter already. Cary was hunched over his drawing book, working intently.

"Hey, Cary."

Cary looked up and his face relaxed when he saw Jon. It was almost a smile.

"What are you doing here?" Jon asked.

Cary turned his notebook around and showed it to Jon. "Our project."His friend's voice was soft and frayed, like he'd had a cold.

Jon took it in his hands, sitting on the step below Cary to look more closely. It was a drawing of the side of their house. A child was running in the foreground laughing. Jon's mouth curved in a smile. "Is that Bea?"

Cary ducked his head, his face colouring. "No."

The house was completed in dark, sure pencil-strokes against a clear sky. "Wow, this is beautiful."

Cary took the sketchbook back, frowning at it. "I've been thinking about it a bit."

Jon sat next to him, putting his back against the stone banister. "They searched our lockers yesterday. Yours and mine."

Cary frowned. "Why did they search your locker?"

Jon shrugged to cover how mad he was about it. "Looking for drugs."

"That's stupid."

"Yup," Jon said. He picked a stone up off the step and held it in his fist. "This you serving your at-home suspension?"

"Yup."

Cary's blank, innocent expression made Jon laugh. "Huh." He looked at Cary again. There was nothing to tell where Cary's dad hit him—except Jon was in his shirtsleeves and the sun was warm on his skin, while Cary still had his jacket on. Jon hucked the stone, made it 'ping' on the wooden bench a few feet away. "You get in trouble when you got home?"

Cary shook his head once; Jon couldn't see his face. "You?" Cary asked.

Jon gripped his hands together, looking at Cary's shoulder. After a second he shrugged. "Yeah. My dad took me to Dairy Queen. He talked about how he's worried my friends are dragging me down."

Cary didn't say anything. Jon dropped his eyes to his sneakers, turning his toes in. "I told him how Todd is an asshole. And that you're the best friend I could have asked for."

Cary frowned at him like he thought Jon was making fun.

Jon couldn't look him in the face. He was red to the roots of his hair. "I'm really sorry Cary. I should have fought Todd back or told someone and you got in trouble for that."

Cary shrugged his shoulders, one stiff movement of his jacket up and down. "Nothing happened. I got grounded for a day. Quit worrying about it."

Jon tasted sick in his mouth and swallowed. He was silent for a moment, looking at the north door kids, who had every available inch of skin exposed to soak up the sun.

"You're a really good liar Cary. Better than me. I think you've had more practice."

{Cary}

Cary went still, his heart thudding in his chest.

Jon's eyes touched his face as he said, "I saw your dad hit you in the parking lot. I assume—there was more when you got home. And that's why you always wear your jacket."

Cary gripped the edge of the step to keep his hands from shaking. He had been stupid. He never should have let Jon close. Now it felt like Jon had a hold of him, and one good yank would tear him wide open. "You tell your dad?" he asked roughly.

"No." Jon wouldn't stop looking at him. "You should tell someone. You told me to tell—when I was getting hurt. You didn't do anything that deserves—"

Cary slapped his hand over Jon's mouth and drove him against the stone banister. "Shut it," he growled. Jon was hanging onto Cary's arm, wide-eyed and white-faced. Cary's lips pulled back from his teeth. "If you think you know shit about my family—you can go to hell, Jon White."

He felt Jon swallow, and something warm and wet ran down his wrist. Tears. His fingers were biting into Jon's cheek. Cary's hands flew free and he backed up until his shoulders hit the stone on the other side of the steps. His brain jabbered with panic--he was fucked now. He couldn't make his hands hurt Jon badly enough to shut his mouth for good. He needed Jon to keep his mouth shut.

Jon put his face against his knees, his hands clenched over his head.

Cary swallowed with a mouth dry as stone. The torn place inside him was shaking like a flag in the wind. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Jon shook his head. When he lifted his face the white prints from Cary's fingers were still around his mouth. "Are you okay? Are you safe?"

Cary drew back, holding still. He could feel every wrinkle and seam of his shirt pressed against his back. They're safe. That's what matters. His mouth was frozen shut but Jon's eyes read his face like the words were written there.

"Jesus, Cary." Jon's voice broke. He looked away, wiping tears from his eyes again and again.

Cary didn't know what to do to make Jon stop crying. He frowned, fishing in his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter. He burned his thumb lighting the first smoke. He swore and sucked his finger before lighting the second smoke from the first and sliding across the step. He touched Jon's arm with his fist holding the cigarette.

Jon gave him a quick look, then took the cigarette. Shaking tears out of his eyes, he smoked it with his head down. Finally, he said in a low voice, "You know what would have happened if I had punched Todd and landed in the principal's office?"

Cary shook his head.

"Pretty much it already did. My dad would have made me talk about it and apologize. He would have given me this look he gets when he's hurt, like he's so disappointed that I'm not—" Jon tripped on the words, "—That I'm not the son he wanted."

Jon's voice sank to a whisper. "That's all I was afraid of. A look." He covered his eyes. "You should have left it on me, Cary."

Cary drew the smoke from his cigarette deep into his chest and held it there, his mouth shut. He felt like he was falling down the stairs—that terrifying moment when it's all air and flying before hitting the steps. He exhaled.

"It wasn't about Todd." He couldn't look Jon in the face. "I wrecked some of my father's stuff. If I never laid a finger on Todd he still would have..." He blinked and couldn't say another word, like there was something broken in his brain, between what he could see behind his eyes and what he could make his mouth say. Cary put his head down, fumbled another smoke out of his pack and lit it. 

"Nothing would have been different," he said finally. "Todd was just—a bonus."

Jon made a sound that could have been a laugh. Cary looked at him from under his eyebrows. He couldn't say the words to make Jon understand about Liam and pancakes the next morning. He needed Jon to understand—he needed Jon to keep his mouth shut.

"You skipping the rest of the day?"Cary asked.

Jon took a moment to speak. "Yup. Think so."

Tuck and roll, Cary thought. He straightened, stretching carefully. "I left more drawings at my house. Let's go." 

1588 words.