Read Online Jeremiah Quick by SM Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: SM Johnson
Tags: Drama, Psychological fiction, tragedy, Gay Fiction, dark fiction, erotic horror, romantic horror
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time
for the hike to the Homecoming bonfire.
It was full dark when the group reached the
bonfire site. Pretty sat close to Jeremiah, wedged tight against
him, because they'd had their little roll-in-the-fall-leaves
make-out session, and because he'd told her the secret of the
Three, and because she still hoped he might be her next thing.
At some point Jeremiah reclined on the
blanket, on his side, and Pretty leaned against him. Chill was
lying at their feet, but then suddenly sat up and pulled Pretty
away from Jeremiah, a sharp quick tug that had her falling onto
Chill's chest, and he was staring into her face, her eyes, and he
said, in a dreamy voice, "You look very pretty by the firelight,
Pretty."
Oh good Christ, are you kidding me?
This kind of thing never happened to her.
Her mask must have been especially sparkling and vivacious that
night because she was definitely not her usual self-conscious and
reserved self. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was just that
Jeremiah had agreed to join them for an after-school activity,
which had never happened before.
"I love you all," Pretty announced to the
crowd in general, to Jeremiah, and tall-man, and
missing-eyebrow-boy Chill in particular. "And I have a boyfriend,
dorks."
Ah, shit.
"Yeah?" Jeremiah said, in his sardonic way,
the side of him that was not always nice. "I notice he's not
here."
No, he wasn't. Pretty hadn't wanted the
evening ruined by the necessity of explaining every joke to the
point it became unfunny. The boyfriend went to a different school
and she wasn't in the mood to interpret the general quirkiness of
her friends. See, the boyfriend was really cute. He was also
pathologically stupid. But oh, he was pretty. He was worth
tolerating, just for those few weeks, so she could keep looking at
him. Mmmmm.
She already knew the relationship was
near-over, and would be as soon as she could stand to have the
conversation with him, and would be doing that, the moment she
found the most appropriate visual aids and interpretive help –
diagrams and simple line drawings, perhaps, or, at the very least,
a pencil drawing of a heart broken in half… just to make sure he
could follow along. Yeah, she needed to draw a break-up map, he was
that dense. But at least with this one she could say, "You know,
it's not me, it's you," for the only time ever, and not even hurt
his feelings. What she couldn't say was, "Dude, you know, the clock
struck thirteen, and you just had no power over me." That'd be so
far above his head, he'd probably scratch his balls trying to
figure it out.
Sophomore year, bonfire night, the night
that everybody wanted Pretty. There was no repeat – not any of it,
with any of them, ever, but she thought how nice it would be if
every girl had that one night.
It could have been the end of Before.
Except Jeremiah passed her a tiny scrap of
paper with a phone number written in pencil.
He wasn't done with her yet.
After the bonfire she dumped stupid boy, and
kept buying candy bars.
Chapter 5
W hen Jeremiah came
back she almost sobbed with relief. Her knees, her thighs, her
buttocks, hell, every damn part of her, was sore from being in the
cage. It felt like he'd been gone for days.
He unlocked the cage door, swung it open,
and snapped his fingers. "Out. Remember, no voice."
She was stiff, and it took her a full minute
to stretch herself out of the cage. She smelled, and that
embarrassed her. When she got to her feet, her balance was bad, and
she swayed to the side until his hand gripped her upper arm and
held her steady. He walked her to a white and gleaming bathroom,
and stood over her while she peed. Then he directed her into the
shower, where he'd placed a plastic chair.
He washed her as impersonally as he'd
watched her pee, as if she weren't naked. As if she weren't
important. It was as dehumanizing as the cage, maybe worse.
She wasn't going back into the cage. Time
had been endless. No relief from the bars pressing into her
for the hike to the Homecoming bonfire.
It was full dark when the group reached the
bonfire site. Pretty sat close to Jeremiah, wedged tight against
him, because they'd had their little roll-in-the-fall-leaves
make-out session, and because he'd told her the secret of the
Three, and because she still hoped he might be her next thing.
At some point Jeremiah reclined on the
blanket, on his side, and Pretty leaned against him. Chill was
lying at their feet, but then suddenly sat up and pulled Pretty
away from Jeremiah, a sharp quick tug that had her falling onto
Chill's chest, and he was staring into her face, her eyes, and he
said, in a dreamy voice, "You look very pretty by the firelight,
Pretty."
Oh good Christ, are you kidding me?
This kind of thing never happened to her.
Her mask must have been especially sparkling and vivacious that
night because she was definitely not her usual self-conscious and
reserved self. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was just that
Jeremiah had agreed to join them for an after-school activity,
which had never happened before.
"I love you all," Pretty announced to the
crowd in general, to Jeremiah, and tall-man, and
missing-eyebrow-boy Chill in particular. "And I have a boyfriend,
dorks."
Ah, shit.
"Yeah?" Jeremiah said, in his sardonic way,
the side of him that was not always nice. "I notice he's not
here."
No, he wasn't. Pretty hadn't wanted the
evening ruined by the necessity of explaining every joke to the
point it became unfunny. The boyfriend went to a different school
and she wasn't in the mood to interpret the general quirkiness of
her friends. See, the boyfriend was really cute. He was also
pathologically stupid. But oh, he was pretty. He was worth
tolerating, just for those few weeks, so she could keep looking at
him. Mmmmm.
She already knew the relationship was
near-over, and would be as soon as she could stand to have the
conversation with him, and would be doing that, the moment she
found the most appropriate visual aids and interpretive help –
diagrams and simple line drawings, perhaps, or, at the very least,
a pencil drawing of a heart broken in half… just to make sure he
could follow along. Yeah, she needed to draw a break-up map, he was
that dense. But at least with this one she could say, "You know,
it's not me, it's you," for the only time ever, and not even hurt
his feelings. What she couldn't say was, "Dude, you know, the clock
struck thirteen, and you just had no power over me." That'd be so
far above his head, he'd probably scratch his balls trying to
figure it out.
Sophomore year, bonfire night, the night
that everybody wanted Pretty. There was no repeat – not any of it,
with any of them, ever, but she thought how nice it would be if
every girl had that one night.
It could have been the end of Before.
Except Jeremiah passed her a tiny scrap of
paper with a phone number written in pencil.
He wasn't done with her yet.
After the bonfire she dumped stupid boy, and
kept buying candy bars.
Chapter 5
W hen Jeremiah came
back she almost sobbed with relief. Her knees, her thighs, her
buttocks, hell, every damn part of her, was sore from being in the
cage. It felt like he'd been gone for days.
He unlocked the cage door, swung it open,
and snapped his fingers. "Out. Remember, no voice."
She was stiff, and it took her a full minute
to stretch herself out of the cage. She smelled, and that
embarrassed her. When she got to her feet, her balance was bad, and
she swayed to the side until his hand gripped her upper arm and
held her steady. He walked her to a white and gleaming bathroom,
and stood over her while she peed. Then he directed her into the
shower, where he'd placed a plastic chair.
He washed her as impersonally as he'd
watched her pee, as if she weren't naked. As if she weren't
important. It was as dehumanizing as the cage, maybe worse.
She wasn't going back into the cage. Time
had been endless. No relief from the bars pressing into her
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