Page 13 of Beneath the Stain
The silence lasted a heartbeat, two, and then exploded, fireworks of sound. For a moment, Mackey was terrified, threatened by that neediness, alone, a child surrounded by demons, all of them screaming for his blood.
The moment passed, and he curled his lips at the frenzied students, then bowed. “Y’all can listen to my music anytime,” he said.
They were still screaming his name as he walked off the stage.
He found himself whirled away, hustled off the stage and out of the auditorium while the DJ got back behind his setup and attempted to restore order. Mackey was giddy, high as a kite on adrenaline and—suddenly, uncomfortably—aware of how tight his pants were.
But he wasn’t going to tell his brothers that, especially as he was engulfed again and again in their press of bodies, in the hugs and congratulations and general whooping and hollering, because, dammit, it was awin, and Mackey’s brothers knew enough about life to know that didn’t happen nearly enough.
“Mackey,” Grant said, his voice low and throaty. “God, Mackey, you were amazing!”
“Hear hear!” Stevie said, and he and Jeff did a high five/down low like they rehearsed it.
“That wasawesome,” Mackey said, his voice shuddering in his chest. And thenhewas shuddering, because it was cool outside and he was sopping with sweat.
Everyone else seemed to agree, and by consensus they all wandered back inside to get some punch, because besides everything else they were dying of thirst.
Inside was the last place Mackey wanted to be.
It was loud, it was dark, it was hot. People who hadn’t given him the time of daythat morningsuddenly wanted his attention, and he didn’t want to talk to those people. Why would he?
So he found himself by the snack table, munching on a brownie and drinking some punch with way too much sugar in it, having stilted conversation with Tony Rodriguez.
“Are they really both dancing with Carly Padgett?” Tony asked, and that made Mackey smile. Sure enough, Carly had her arms around Steve’s waist and was laying her head on his chest while Jeff whuffled in her ear from behind, making her laugh.
“I don’t know if the world’s quite real for them when they’re split up,” Mackey said, meaning it. The story was, Mackey’s mom had been pregnant with Mackey himself and cleaning houses between shifts at the restaurant to pay her medical bills. Kell had met Grant, and Jeff had met Stevie while she was scrubbing their parents’ toilets and getting paid out of pity. Grant lived in one of the big “dragon houses”—as Mackey thought of them—outside of town: the places of money, what usually people like the Sanderses only saw when scrubbing toilets. Later, much later, Mackey put together the cost to Grant for being friends with the Sanders kids. But when you’re a kid, that doesn’t really come into play. When you’re a kid, all that matters is that your brother’s friend is part of your life and nothing seems to stop him from riding his bike or running away to visit your two-bedroom apartment. To Mackey, Grant was like Kell, Jeff, and Stevie. Everything outside his brothers had no bearing on his life.
But Grantwaspart of his band of brothers, and Grant was being pulled away by Samantha, outside through the back door of the gym. Mackey couldn’t help but watch him go.
Before the door closed, Grant’s eyes sought his out in the darkness, a look of uncharacteristic bleakness on his face as the door closed behind him.
“He does not look happy,” Tony murmured by Mackey’s ear, and Mackey jerked back, startled.
Tony sighed and took his own step back.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and Mackey fought irritation.
“Man, why you gotta do that. It’s not like I got any real friends, you know?”
Tony looked up at him, sudden pain aching in his eyes. “One guy on campus who knows how I feel, and he wants to be friends?Fuckthat!”
Tony stalked away, leaving Mackey surprised at how much that hurt as well.
Fuck that? Oh fuckthis.Home was two miles away—Mackey could fucking walk.
He found Kell, dancing in a corner with a girl whose dress was doing a worse and worse job of covering her tits.
“Goin’ home,” he muttered, just loud enough for Kell to look up distractedly and nod.
Good. Mackey had done his job. He slid out the same way Grant had gone, because that was the only way he could get out without six teachers jumping his shit and making sure he wasn’t getting drunk or stoned or fighting in the parking lot or something. The door Grant had taken led to the dark and silent loading and unloading parking lot. Anyone who didn’t want quiet and dark might have been intimidated by how black the countryside was after it cleared the circle of the one lamp the school had up back there.
Mackey wasn’t. He slept on the bottom bunk, tight in the corner, ignored and unbothered. He liked it that way. The darkness reminded him of that space, private and safe, and he stuck to the shadows, letting the shaking fade as he calmed down.
He made the mistake of passing Grant’s mom’s car, though, and he heard it, Sam’s voice, plain as day.
She was moaning, muffling sex noises against something, probably Grant’s chest.
“God, Grant, please… not just… can’t you…? Please?”
