Read Online When Everything Feels like the Movies by Raziel Reid - Free Book Online Page B

but I could only hear the bass of the rap music pounding through the floor.
    I unrolled the paper—it was a target. There were bullet holes through the centre that were so small, I couldn’t even fit my little finger through them. As I rolled it back up, I noticed an elementary school picture in the drawer. On the back, in messy printing, he’d written, “Luke Morris, Grade 1.” I pocketed the photo, then ran my hands across his bed and pressed my face against the sheets. They were wrinkled and covered with come stains. I was tempted to lick one, but I heard laughing from the hallway and barely had time to flick off the lamp before I saw shadows at the bottom of the door.
    I jumped into the closet right as the door opened. Luke walked in carrying Madison. I could see them through the slits in the closet door. He didn’t turn on the lights but moved through the dark and dropped her on the bed. He took off his shirt and climbed on top of her. The music downstairs was blaring so loudly, I was surprised the cops hadn’t shown up. Madison began to groan like she liked the way it hurt. And I kept watching because maybe I liked it, too. The bed started to squeak. I watched Luke’s body as he went into her, but it wasn’t like in my dreams. He started breathing heavier, but I couldn’t hear it over the music; I could just see it in the way his body moved. I clasped my hands together to stop from touching myself.
    When they were done, he got up right away and put his shirt back on, then looked around for his hat. He turned on the lamp and found it sticking out from under the bed. His face was red, and his hair was stuck to his forehead. Suddenly, the music stopped; I didn’t let myself breathe. Madison curled up on the bed with her blonde hair cascading in waves over the side.
    “Turn off the light,” she moaned.
    He flicked the switch, and everything was dark again.
    “The music stopped,” she said.
    “Yeah.” He adjusted his hat and looked right at me—right at the slits in his closet door. “Are you going to pass out?” he asked, running his hand through her sea of hair.
    “Luke?” she said in her baby voice, which I imitated when I was alone in my room.
    “Yeah?”
    “Do you love me?” she asked, and it’s a good thing the music started again because I almost choked. I don’t know what he said or if he said anything at all. She got up. I was glad it was dark and that I couldn’t see. I didn’t want to see her lipstick all over him, on his lips, his neck, his eyelids.
    When they opened the door, the room filled with light, and the music got even louder. I fell back into his dirty laundry in the closet. I wanted the smell to stay on me forever. I wanted to bottle it. I wanted it to be my signature scent. Dirty. Strong. Unforgettable. I waited a while, then came out of the closet and stood next to his bed. The blanket was bunched, and the sheets were damp. I touched them even though they made my hands feel like they were on fire.
    I didn’t care if anyone in the hallway saw me: I walked right out. I didn’t even care if Luke and Madison were standing there, their faces still shining. I didn’t care about anything. I walked down the stairs almost tripping over my laces. I was wearing the most normal shoes I owned. My grandma bought them for me for Christmas. They were purple. She wrote “Love, Santa” on the box because that’s what she always did. She wouldn’t let me thank her for them either; it was really important to her that I believed.
    I decided to go out the back door because there was a big crowd at the front, and I didn’t want to deal with it. I wasn’t in the mood to be harassed by the fans. They always expected so much from me. I could see my breath in the air, maybe because it was so cold outside or maybe because I was so cold inside. Three guys were standing in the backyard, all wearing the bro-army uniform of hoodies, baseball caps, blue jeans, and sneakers. One of them was taking