Teeth_ Vampire Tales - Ellen Datlow [12]
“What’s a night like this doing to a boy like you?” Marley asked, followed by another giggle that belonged to a toddler.
“Running away,” Dutch said. “Well, aren’t you? Only someone on the run would be hitchhiking in this weather.”
Saul nodded. Cotre Ranch might tell parents it was an “outdoor behavioral health care facility,” but it was really a gulag to help kids kick their drug habits through hard labor and obstacle courses. Punishment for doing a little herbal and a couple bumps of crystal meth—how else could he entertain himself? His parents hadn’t asked him if he’d like to move from Jersey to Iowa.
The motion of the car and the intense heat made him sleepy. As an inmate of the ranch, he’d been rising at dawn only to collapse on a stiff bunk every night. And even then, sleep wasn’t a guarantee: Every so often there were random night checks when a “counselor” would try to sneak up on a sleeping kid. If they could do so without waking him, it meant an hour’s worth of scrubbing floors. Saul learned fast to wake at the slightest creak.
“You’re not ax murderers, are you?” he asked.
Both siblings laughed. Dutch, at least, had a normal laugh. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
Saul’s right arm itched. He rubbed it through the peacoat. He was covered in so many bruises and scabs from all the tough love. His hands were either all blister or callus.
“No hobo bag?” Marley tugged at Saul’s wilted collar. “I always loved those cartoon hobos.”
“You’re traveling light,” Dutch said.
Saul felt too tired to shrug. “Nothing to hold me down.” Truth was, the goon staff had locked away most of his things after his parents had dropped him off at the ranch. He wasn’t sure if he should be missing things. What did empty pockets say about a guy?
He looked out the window, scratched at the cheap, tinted film with a dirty thumbnail. The thought of freedom was intoxicating. “I could go anywhere,” he muttered. His original plan had been to make his way back to Jersey, but that now seemed as empty of promise as knocking at his parents’ door. There was nowhere he had to go, which left him troubled. He couldn’t imagine himself anywhere in the world, as if the cold rain had washed away his ability to daydream. When the siblings let him out, all he would do was wait for the next ride. And then the next.
“We’ve been anywhere.” This time Marley’s fingers, which felt like icicles, moved to Saul’s matted hair. “And everywhere in between.”
Saul stiffened. When you’re gay, you always wonder about every guy you see. What if Marley was too? But when you’re right, it’s still a surprise. It had been too long since another guy had even touched him. While being trapped in a bunkhouse filled with teen rough trade might seem like a wet dream come true, actually no one had the energy after the first few days to do more than brag about past lays. And by the third week—a week of digging holes six feet deep—everyone looked and smelled so scroungy and raw that the thought of even approaching a horny straight boy was too damn hazardous.
“Relax. We want to like you,” Dutch said. She ran one finger along the front of her teeth, as if checking to make sure they were clean. Saul noticed she didn’t wear any fingernail polish or rings, something he’d expect for a rich girl. She needed only her smile.
As Saul scratched at his arm, Marley’s cold touch slipped under his collar. “Are you one of those shy boys?”
Saul didn’t think “shy” was the right word for how he felt. Maybe curious or anxious. When a total stranger started stroking the side of your neck, how were you supposed to act?
His right arm more than itched. It felt as if ants had crawled under the skin. Angry ants that tore at the nerves with their mandibles. He tried pushing up the sleeve of the coat, but it wasn’t enough. The arm burned as if soaked in acid. He began stripping off the coat and ripping at his sleeve.
The siblings laughed. “So eager,” one of them said, but Saul didn’t pay attention to which one.
When he finally bared his forearm, the pain ceased immediately.