Page 2 of Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself)
One
14 years old
“Benny.”He woke slowly, groggily fighting his way up from a deep sleep. The voice came again. “Benny.” Female—one he knew he should recognize. “Ben, you have to get up.” Burying his head into the pillow, he slowly rocked his forehead back and forth, feeling an unfamiliar ache behind his eyes. Perfume, thick and cloying, clogged his nostrils, and he lifted his head a fraction of an inch, trying to get away from the thick scent making his stomach roll with nausea. “Benny.”
Crap. His lips were stuck together. With some effort, he was able to peel them apart, tasting old blood mixed with new. Running his tongue along the inside of his mouth, he found two tender places where there were splits, blood oozing from the freshly reopened injuries. “Wha?” That was the extent of his ability to think at that moment, a single, slurred syllable which sounded so much like his mother, the sound jerked him entirely from the smothering cocoon of sleep.
“You have to get up. You’re going to be late for school.” Her voice set him on edge, skittering up his spine with a shiver like nails on a chalkboard, as the woman in the bed with him spoke again and he finally put a name to it.Benita Owens.
He moved, rolling onto his side to face Benita as he cracked open one eye. Her makeup was perfect, of course; it wouldn’t do for the beautiful Benita to be seen any other way. She’d been up a while if her look told the truth, and he expected it did. You didn’t achieve those results without work. Lifting one arm, he was surprised at how sore his muscles were. Arm, back, ass. He moved his legs in the bed. Thighs, calves.Crap.Everything hurt.The fuck did I do?His stomach rolled again. “Mmhmm. Hey.” He got out nearly a whole word this time. “Time’s it?” He let his eye sink closed again. The light was too bright; a blade of sunshine pierced through to the top of his brain and set up a fierce pounding there.
“The school bus runs in twenty minutes, Benny. You’ll need to leave in time to walk to the stop.” That got his eye open again, and he stared at her, then swung his head to look around the room—not his bedroom at GeeMa’s place. This was huge in comparison, with posters of actors and movies on the walls and framed cutesy quotes scattered amongst them. He’d been in here before, studying. He snorted because studying was Benita’s code word for sucking him off. That was as far as they’d gone: his hand down her pants twice, feeling the glorious mystery that was a woman’s private parts, and her hand and lips on his dick. The first time had blown his mind, then he’d blown his load in her mouth, watched in awe as she swallowed, then licked him clean, curling her tongue around the head of his dick like it was a lollipop.
As he lay there looking at her, memories from the night before began to trickle slowly back to him. He remembered her picking him up from school, a wicked grin on her face as she told him her parents were unexpectedly out of town on a Thursday night.Time to party, she’d said, reaching over to put her hand on his crotch and squeezing as she sped away from the campus. Her house, a crowd of her friends, and him with an arm around her shoulder so she could put hers around his waist, fitting tightly against him. He remembered booze. So much booze. Faceless hands grabbing his empty glass and replacing it with a fresh, full one. Dancing, Benita pressed up against him, swaying to the music. Everyone listening while he crooned a sappy love song to her, Benita’s face soft and affectionate.
He’d watched as couples drifted to private rooms or took up residence in quiet corners, glancing around as Benita led him by the hand up the stairs. That was where it got really fuzzy, and he wasn’t sure of the exact sequence of events past taking the first tread upwards. He closed his eyes, thinking hard, trying to remember but he only found confusing feelings and colors, smeared scenes that were so bizarre he wasn’t sure if they were real or curious dreams. Chaos in his head, in this bed. Benita naked, chin angled down so she could look at his face as she crawled up the bed on her knees. Feeling suffocated, tearing his mouth away from whatever was covering it. Hard slaps across his face, one which busted his bottom lip, one of the splits still seeping. He sucked that lip into his mouth, tasting more new blood than old. Opening his eyes, he watched as a guilty expression played across Benita’s face. Remembering.
She wouldn’t slow down, didn’t slow down even when he pulled at her hips with his hands. Kept grinding her crotch against his face, covering his mouth and nose, the scent and taste of her filling everything. Nothing he’d wanted, not tonight, and he felt the vodka she’d kept pouring him earlier begin to roll up the back of his throat. Trying desperately to take in a breath to shove the vomit back down, he couldn’t get away from her long enough to get more than small sips of air. Choking, he swallowed hard, time and again, twisting his head back and forth.“Be still, Benny.”Eyes open, looking down her body at him. Breasts swaying as she undulated over him, hands propped against the headboard. Her voice vibrating with some emotion.“Almost there.”
Her hand reached down, brushing past his cheeks, then her fingers worked at her flesh, frantic and fast. Her eyes closed and he felt her legs tense on either side of his head.Dying, he thought, then, heels to the mattress, he shoved hard, gaining two inches when he pushed out from under her. There was a loud cry of anger and pain exploded in his head, his neck whipping sideways and then she had him buried again. A few moments later it was over, and she climbed off him, snuggling into his side and resting her head on his shoulder, cooing senseless words to him as he swallowed hard again, still fighting off his nausea.
That was last night. Thursday night. Which meant this was Friday, and he couldn’t be late to school, or he’d be riding the pine this evening at the football game. Without a word, he turned away from her to sit on the other edge of the bed. He’d never felt this ashamed before. Not even when the kids started pegging on his ma back in grade school, repeating their parents’ overheard conversations.Your mom’s a whore, the most frequently shouted insult. That was back before Danny Schraff unexpectedly became a friend and supporter, willing to wade into the shouting kids right alongside Benny.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress in the weak light of a Wyoming morning, he looked down, taking stock. Bare knees, scrawny legs, feet too big for his body. Briefs still on,thank God, which meant she hadn’t touched him last night. In his head, he heard his brother,No, just used your face to get off. He pushed that voice aside, because even thinking about Andy seeing him here, like this, was mortifying. He couldn’t let his brother down. Andy, who worked so hard to try and give Benny everything he needed, could never know what Benny had done.
“I can’t drive you today.” The mattress moved and footsteps rounded the end of the bed, heralding her approach. Tilting his chin so he didn’t have to look at her, he held his breath against a renewed surge of nausea when she crouched beside his leg, hand on his thigh. “I’ve got to be in Cheyenne.” He knew that. Knew about the trip. Benita was a senior; she had a college visit today that she didn’t want. She’d been complaining about it for weeks, and more than once had shared a deep disappointment her parents weren’t willing to spring for an east coast university. Benita had scoffed at their arguments, laughing with her friends that behind her mom’s back, even her daddy said grades weren’t everything. “I can drop you at the bus stop.” He nodded, and still without looking at her, he jackknifed off the bed, swaying as he rose to his feet.
Eyes squeezed shut against the pounding pain, he jerked when her hand touched his chest, fingertips trailing across his collarbone, down to his gut, then sideways across his belly, tracing along the edge of his underwear. “I had a good time last night, Benny,” she cooed at him; this was her pleased voice. Something he’d worked to pull from her in the past, but today, the syrupy-sweet turned his stomach. “Next time we party, we’ll do it alone, so we can spend more time together.” Her hand moved, palm gripping his arm and he felt the soft press of her boobs as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Next time,” she whispered into his ear, “we’ll go all the way.”
***
“You look like shit.” That was Danny’s voice, and Benny twisted to watch him pull up a chair at the end of the picnic-style lunch table, squinting at the pain slamming through his head from the metallic racket. Danny Schraff had been Benny’s best friend since grade school, the two of them bonding over the knowledge that you didn’t get to pick who your parents were, you just had to learn how to put up with them.
That was about five years after Benny’s dad died, and his mom had spiraled out of control, becoming the laughing stock of the town, known far and wide by her reputation of being a drunk…and worse. His father’s parents had custody, so Benny had basically grown up with his grandparents. While a stable home, it felt like his mom and the situations she created were always drifting around him, threatening to bury him under an avalanche of hometown contempt.
Andy, Benny’s big brother, was his rock, always there to push him and make him better. They’d always been more friends than brothers, even with the ten-year age difference, and afternoons spent with Andy were little slices of heaven; something he looked forward to in a big way. As such, Benny’s life was decent, not like Danny’s, whose father regularly took his fists to him. Danny deflected a lot of the schoolyard bullshit from Benny, and in return, Benny gave Danny a safe place to stay, an escape from a home often filled with turmoil.
The school lunch room buzzed, voices loud and echoing, the noises overlapping in a way that let you be certain no one would overhear anything if you didn’t want them to. “Heard about the par-taay. Heard Benita was showing off her hot stud,stud.” Danny leaned forwards, tipping his head to stare into Benny’s face. “Holy shit, your eyes are bloodshot. Any teachers ask if you’re sick?”
He shook his head, fingers wrapped around the glass of tomato juice that was his lunch. He’d watched his mother deal with the aftereffects often enough over the years to know food might be his enemy, but tomato juice would soothe things down. Two aspirins, two ibuprofens, one acetaminophen, and a glass of tomato juice.Breakfast of champions, he thought, then grimaced.Or lunch for losers.
“You know she’s using you, right?” Twisting his neck, he stared at Danny, waiting. “She’s nineteen, Benny. Five years older. Fuck man, you can’t get your license for another two years, and she’s off to college in a few months. She’s a user, man. Don’t let her suck you in.” Danny grinned, “Suck you off, yeah. Take all that hot shit you can get, but don’t let her jack you up.”
Benny waved a hand, “No worries, man. I’m good.”
“Keep tellin’ yourself that, stud. Coach see you yet?”
Benny gingerly shook his head again. “Hoping to put this behind me before he does.” The bell rang, and he winced as it jangled loudly, waking the pain again. “Vodka and beer on an empty stomach do not mix, my friend. Word to the wise from the unwise.”
“No doubt about which is which today.” Danny's joke fell flat, and he slapped Benny’s shoulder, pushing his chair back. “See you in the locker room after school?” The football players held a meeting every game day. The boys dissecting the opponents and laying out planned strategies so there were few miscues on the field. This was independent of the team strategy meeting with Coach because it gave them a chance to focus on the people behind the plays. Benny’s idea, which began back in junior high, now carried over to varsity with Coach’s support since he was in high school this year. He overheard Coach talking about him not long ago, preening when the words “natural leader” and “talented player” were tossed around.
“Yeah, see you there.” Straightening, he stretched his neck backwards, feeling muscles in his back throb.If Mom is this miserable all the time, I wonder why she’d keep going back to the thing that sets it off. There was feminine giggling off to one side, and he turned his head, catching the eye of one of Benita’s friends. She winked at him and grinned wide, then opened her mouth, waggling her tongue.Oh no, she didn’t. Jesus. Time to shut this shit down. Turning to face her straight on, he held her gaze and stared steadily, keeping his face impassive, waiting it out. After a moment, her eyes dipped down and to the side, and she avoided his gaze as she turned away.Fucking Benita and her mouth. Her mouth talkin’ about my mouth. Shit.
Hours later, Benny stood on the sidelines, straps of his helmet dangling from his fingers, huffing in huge mouthfuls of air, eyes to the defensive line taking the field. “Jones,” Coach called from behind him, and Benny barely controlled a wince, knowing what was coming. A firm hand landed on the pads covering his shoulder and gripped tightly. “You okay, son?” Typical Coach, worried more about the kids than the game. “You’re off, Ben. That last pass should have been gravy.” It should have, but the ball had bounced in and out of his fingers as if it were greased, his clumsy fumble forcing a fourth down turnover, the reason Benny was back on the sidelines.
“Yeah, Coach,” he offered, eyes still trained on Danny shifting left to right across the field, tracking his man on the opposing team, currently on the move. “I’m good.”
“You’re sure?” Like most adults in his life, Benny knew what Coach wanted and gave it to him, turning his direction with a cocky grin. He tossed his still-aching head to indicate the stands behind him. Stands that held GeeMa, but not his brother. Andy was always working one of his jobs, but he at least called for a blow-by-blow review of every game. Never his mother, she didn’t give a shit about anything except herself. Didn’t matter, he played the game because he loved it, not because anyone was cheering him on.
