[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]be stranded by his old clunker and miss Jeremy's
moment of triumph. "Let's go, shall we?" He extended
his arm and the mood lifted, Jeremy's fingers wrapping
around his biceps.
The muggy evening weather was a shade too hot for
long sleeves, but Noah would endure anything, feeling
privileged to be a part of a dream coming true.
Graduation. Tomorrow this hard-as-nails teenager would
wear the cap and gown currently spread out in the living
room, receiving a piece of paper that'd declare he'd won
the struggle to cross a threshold into adulthood. Noah
wondered if any of his classmates overcame such
hardships to reach the finish line.
"Where are we going to dinner?" Jeremy fiddled with
the radio dial and squirmed on the seat.
"Someplace special," Noah allowed, struggling to
keep a straight face. All over town restaurants were
filling with well-dressed families, preparing for the
evening. Not Noah and Jeremy. Tonight was meant to
"standout in Jeremy's memories forever" as Mary had
put it when she'd shared her plan for something a bit less
traditional.
Bypassing the busiest part of town, Noah pulled
Doc's Cadillac over at a park. He grinned at Jeremy's
raised eyebrow. "You'll see." He got out and popped the
trunk, removing a cooler and a tablecloth. "Are you
coming?" he asked.
He led the way down to a picnic table on the edge of
the lake, the late afternoon sun shimmering the water's
surface. "Here, spread this out." He handed over the
tablecloth. A duck, flanked by several ducklings, spotted
them and veered toward shore, a rippling "V" following
in their wake.
Noah lined single serve containers of coleslaw and
potato salad up on the tablecloth and dug back into the
cooler. He tossed Jeremy a half-loaf of bread in a plastic
Fallen Angel 68
bag. "For them," he said, nodding toward the ducks.
While Noah laid out their feast, complete with sparkling
cider in goblets borrowed from the bar, Jeremy laughed
and tossed bread on the water, watching the ducks
gobble up the crumbs.
He returned once he'd emptied the bag, flopping
down beside Noah on a bench. "This rocks." His grin
stretched from ear to ear.
Just the reaction Noah had hoped for. The first
chance he got, he intended to give Mary a raise.
Jeremy propped his elbows on the table with his chin
on his hands, relaxing with a happy sigh. "This sure
beats a restaurant."
Noah agreed, bowing his head for the silent blessing
that'd become part of their dining ritual. "Amen," they
both said aloud. Noah held out a fried chicken leg.
Instead of taking it, Jeremy bit into the offering, eating
from Noah's hand. Very deliberately he bit again, licking
a trickle of grease away from his lips with the tip of his
tongue. Noah shifted to give his swelling cock more
room.
They each peeled the lid off of a plastic cup of potato
salad. Jeremy stuck his spoon in but brought the bite of
potato to Noah's mouth instead of his own. They fed
each other, sipping cider, enjoying a quiet moment. All
too soon they'd have to leave their little sanctuary and
rejoin the chaotic world existing outside of their little
bubble of calm. When the meal ended and they packed
the empty containers away, Jeremy instructed Noah,
"Stand against that tree."
The squared set of "this isn't open for debate"
shoulders didn't bode well for arguing. Noah sighed and
posed as directed. Jeremy snapped a few pictures with
his cell phone and joined Noah, holding up the phone to
snap a few more. "I want to remember this -- always."
A nervous silence descended as they drove to
Jeremy's school. Fourteen years had come and gone
since Noah had last set foot in his own high school,
emphasizing the point that he'd never experienced
firsthand what the young men and woman flooding the
Fallen Angel 69
halls tonight took for granted. Seeing no point at the
time in finishing, he'd dropped out at sixteen and run
away. Ah, if only I knew then what I know now.
He'd only glimpsed the school from the outside while
doing drop-off and pickup duty. Now he walked the path
Jeremy had taken many times before. Up close, the
immense brick building seemed even more intimidating.
A banner hung over the main entrance: "Welcome to
Joseph L. Parker High School." Noah wondered who
Joseph L. Parker was and what he'd done to have a
school named after him.
Throngs of people flocked through the front doors,
snippets of conversation flitting into hearing range and
out again as he and Jeremy found themselves carried
along on a tide of human bodies.
Inside the building reminded Noah of his own school
days, lockers lining the halls, announcements posted on
bulletin boards, the scent of some kind of cleaner that
only seemed to exist in public schools hanging in the air.
Maybe, like hospitals, schools had their own special
brand. Outside each classroom a sign announced the
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