Read Online The Heart is Deceitful above All Things by J. T. LeRoy - Free Book Online

’em,’ he told me. I wet it down, making it look like a raised yellow highway divider line across my otherwise bald head. In disgust he shaved it off. He dyed his pink until the sheriff threatened to arrest him for disturbing the peace. Then he shaved his off, too. He taught me to sing along with the Sex Pistols. I didn’t understand the words, but it made Sarah laugh when we sang them, sneering and spitting. Sometimes she joined in.
    â€˜I am a annie-christ. I am a annie-kiss, dunno what I want, know how to get it, wanna this toy, the buzzer by.’ He stares at me wide-eyed, mouth hanging open. ‘I wanna be annie-key.’
    â€˜Jesus Christ,’ he gasps.
    â€˜Go piss this toy,’ I finish singing, and spit. It lands in a little bubbly pile on the wooden floor by his black, shined leather shoes. ‘Sex Pistols,’ I say, smiling at him.
    â€˜You’re possessed,’ he says, not smiling anymore. ‘You gotta sing that for him.’ He nods and smiles slowly. ‘You gotta.’
    â€˜I know more, too.’
    â€˜Uh-huh, he’ll love it.’ He laughs.
    â€˜I know Dead Kennedys.’
    â€˜How’s that go?’
    â€˜Too drunk to fuck,’ I sing, ‘I’m too drunk to fuck.’
    He slaps his leg. ‘Yeah, yeah, sing,’ he says, covering his mouth, but I can still hear him laughing. ‘Sing that one, too. Promise you will?’ I nod. ‘But don’t say I told you to. It’ll be a secret. I’m just helping you out.’
    â€˜What’s your name?’ I ask.
    â€˜Aaron,’ he says, wiping the tears from his eyes.
    â€˜Do you know Sarah?’
    â€˜Sarah, yeah, she’s one of my older sisters, yeah, she’s a sinner.’ He adjusts his tie.
    â€˜She’s my momma.’
    â€˜Yeah, I know, that’s why you gotta sing for him . . . got any more?’
    He takes my hand and leads me to our room.
    At five A.M. Aaron wakes me up. I reach around for my Bugs Bunny and then remember what Job, a different blond boy with rosebud lips and sleepy eyes, told me before bed.
    â€˜It’s worshiping idolatry, you’ll burn in hell.’
    He took it from my bag, and I never saw it again. I slept with my thumb in my mouth, and I wake up to a girl that looks like a smaller version of Sarah yanking it out. ‘No, no, you can’t do that.’ She says nothing else and leaves the room.
    Aaron is dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. He’s standing next to a carved wood-framed bed, same as mine, with the same thin mattress, except that he has a pillow. His bed is tightly made, with no blankets hanging over the edges.
    â€˜Make yours and get dressed. We got chores to do before prayer.’ He points to a wooden dresser. ‘Clothes in there, they should fit ya. Fit me when I was your age.’
    I get dressed, staring at the stark, blank walls.
    â€˜Let’s go!’ Aaron half shouts. ‘We got chores to do.’
    We sit on a worn grayish wood stool in a dirty brown brick room next to the kitchen, peeling potatoes. A huge sack of potatoes sits beside us.
    â€˜So, you’ll tell him about your songs.’ He points at me with the peeler. I nod and yawn. He smiles down at the potatoes.
    At six-thirty A.M. Aaron and I stand upstairs in another long, wood-floored hallway. The walls are bare, reflective white. Four other blond boys stand behind us. They’re wearing the same long, scratchy robes that Aaron and I are wearing. They keep leaning over and staring at me. Someone hits the back of my head. When I turn around, Aaron smiles. ‘It wasn’t me! And I’ll swear on Christ’s nails!’ They muffle their laughs. A wooden door opens next to me, and the escaping steam makes my lungs hurt. A tall, sinewy, but fleshy blond boy motions me in.
    â€˜Get in.’ He points at the huge porcelain tub, steam rolling off it like fog. I stare up at him. His catlike face