TITAN
Rose

RoselynFoote stood outside the Alexandria Rink Center or “ARC” for short. She wasindeed a redhead, as Drew described her, with long, thick, waist-length hairand fair skin. She was petite, standing at about five feet tall. Tiny, butshapely. She looked like women used to look before food became the devil andexposed ribs were all the rage, which is to say that Rose had hips. Classicalbeauty.

She fidgetedas she waited for Constance to get off the phone. Constance convinced her todress like a fool and now she was waiting while Constance had phone sex withthat tool, Drew. The sooner this was over, the better.

Constancewas always introducing her to guys that she knew or friends of guys with whomshe was hooking up. Rose might not have minded if there had ever beenone worth meeting. Constance was her best friend and she was a sweetheart, butthere were times when Rose wanted to wring her neck.

When Roseheard that Drew Goodson had a friend who wanted to meet her, she wanted nothingto do with it. Rose had never met Drew, but she had seen his picture and heardenough about him. The picture was fairly memorable because in it Drew wasgiving the most awkward “thumbs up” she’d ever seen. To say it was “unnatural”was a kind way of putting it. He was a big goof who, for whatever reason, couldslide into Constance’s pants anytime. Maybe his weird mannerisms rubbedConstance the right way. He was probably like all of the other fake, slimyscumbags Constance dated. Whatever.

Constanceand Rose had been best friends since the fifth grade. Their moms met at a PTAmeeting and were friends ever since. Their dads hit it off, too, and they hadcook outs on weekends. Rose had liked Constance, but she knew right away theyweren’t the same type of person. Even in the fifth grade, Constance’s skirtsomehow always ended up wrapped around her torso with her pink polka dotunderwear out there for all to see. A slutty tomboy… But Rose didn’thave many friends, so she kept her mouth shut. It did occur to Rose that sheand Constance would probably grow apart in college. Time would tell. But Rosewasn’t thinking about that right now.

“They’recomin’ out to meet us and we’ll skate for free,” Constance said. “Drew’sfriend, Eric, is reeaaal excited to meet you.”

“Great.”

“Oh, C’mon!”Constance wore a faux frown that all but said: Aww, dat’s too bwad…

Does shehave real emotions? Rose felta frown she didn’t show. Her face didn’t change, however.

“Rosie, younever wanna meet any guys,” Constance said.

Rose crossedher arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I love meeting guys.But the ones you keep introducing me to wanna grab my ass two minutes in. Can Ishake their hand first?”

Constancelaughed, but Rose didn’t really mean it as a joke. Constance’s laugh was agawky sorority laugh, but oddly genuine. “There. Be like that. You’re sofunny sometimes.” She hooked her arm with Rose’s and they walked to theentrance. “Just don’t be too funny. Guys think girls who are funnierthan them are D-Y-K-E-S. So, be cute; not hilarious.”

Now Roselaughed. Constance wasn’t always a ditz and Rose knew when she was playing withher. It helped her relax a little bit. This was why Constance was Rose’s friendand she felt a little safer.

Theautomatic entry doors parted and two boys in faded navy blue uniform tees andsmudged khakis walked out. Well, only the tall boy’s pants were smudged. Thatwas Drew; Rose knew it immediately. He was an even bigger goon than Roseimagined. He walked like an unbalanced robot with rubber for bones. Is thatan attempt at swagger? The same weirdo grin from the photo was engraved onDrew’s face and she half expected him to throw them the thumbs up, too. Butthen Drew’s friend appeared from behind him.

Hey.

The otherboy walked normal. It wasn’t exactly a swagger, but Rose got the feeling Drew’sfriend was trying to be confident. She didn’t know how successful it was, butit was better than Drew’s gait. This other boy couldn’t have been more thanfive feet five or five feet six, but he walked about as tall as Drew.

This guygets knocked down and he gets right back up. Rose didn’t know why she thought that, but she did. She knewit. She saw through his smile, too; it was the kind of smile you throw on whenyou’re nervous. Either that or the smile was covering something else up. Hedidn’t show it outwardly, but something was inside him hidden away. His smilewas incomplete, which was how she knew.

Then helooked at her. Into her eyes. Rose was a romantic at heart, but shedidn’t believe in love at first sight. Butterflies in the stomach, sure. Kissesthat curled the toes, sure. But love at first sight? Nah. It was tooimplausible.

This was close.

Maybe it waslust at first sight. His eyes were hazel behind stylish frameless glasses. Helooked her over trying to be discreet, but his gaze finished squarely on herface and on her eyes. She might have been wrong, but she thought he liked whathe saw. Lucky him, she thought, I do too. Let’s see if you’ll shakemy hand or go for my pants…

Withoutrealizing she was doing it, Rose arched her back and angled her shoulders back.She had breasts and dammit she was going to use them. Usually she shut down insituations like this, but there was something about this guy…

Rosie…that’s how a dirty girl thinks…The voice of Rose’s mother was clear in her mind. She shrank from it, butblocked it out.

Channelingher best Constance impersonation, Rose extended her hand. “I’m Rose. And whoare you?”

Did I just say that? The voice had been hers and that was her handsticking out in front of her.

Eric gaveher a queer look and smiled. She had disarmed him. “I’m Drew’s friend. I’mEric.” He leaned in closer to her, taking her hand and speaking low so only shecould hear. “Look, I don’t know you, but I get the feeling this isn’t you.” Hegestured towards Constance with a shift of his head. “I’m not interested inher.”

Rose foundhis eyes again. He was right. She couldn’t be, nor did she want to be,Constance. She eased her shoulders back to normal, relaxing her cleavage. Anervous chuckle escaped. “I’m sorry. Let me do that again. I’m Rose.”

* * *

The “Breastto Butt Ratio,” or the B/B ratio for short, is a way to objectively evaluate agirl’s breasts and butt comparatively. It wasn’t really objective, in fact itwas about as subjective as it gets. It was Eric’s own invention and he wasproud of it—you know, in a guy kind of way. If a girl was 70/30, it didn’t meanthat she had a bad ass, but rather that her breasts were, comparatively, betterthan her ass. Usually, the ratio numbers totaled one hundred, but for somegirls, the number could go higher than one hundred. But those were uniquecases. For instance, Constance was a 70/50—her breasts were awesome, but herass was great too. Limiting her score to the one-hundred-point scale would justbe unfair.

Rose ratedan impressive 50/50. It wasn’t a lesser score than Constance’s though, becauseas great as it was to have really good breasts or a really good ass, it wasbetter to be proportional. That’s what Eric thought, anyway. Constance wasn’tugly by any means, but she was fairly unremarkable—narrow, petite nose and thinlips. It was too bad for Rose that the B/B ratio didn’t factor in a girl’sface. Hers was perfection. Round with fiery bangs draped over her forehead,cute cheeks like a chipmunk, a button nose, and naturally pink, full lips. Ericwanted to kiss them right then, but then again, he thought that about everypretty girl.

Rose’s handwas soft and warm. She had colorful light blue nails with what looked likelittle faces painted on them. Or maybe flowers. But Eric wasn’t looking at herfingers. Instead, he was staring into her deep, green eyes. He was lost inthem.

Rose’s gazenever wavered from Eric’s. She looked him right in the eye and it made him feelnervous. No girl had ever looked at him like that. Not even Melanie.

“Constancetold me a little about you,” Rose said. “I wasn’t sure what to expect. When shesaid ‘Drew’s friend,’ I got worried.”

Ericlaughed. Drew rubbed everyone the wrong way, apparently. “Don’t worry. I getit.”

Eric andRose glanced at Drew and Constance. Constance was in the air, in Drew’s arms,with her legs wrapped around his waist. They weren’t exactly kissing. It wasmore like they were eating each other’s face. Constance let out a desperatesigh and ran her hands through Drew’s hair.

Eric turnedto Rose. “Well.”

A comfortingsmile brightened her face. “She does this all the time.”

“I see.” Theuncomfortable silence that settled between them was made worse by what theirfriends were doing to each other. The distance between Eric and Rose seemed tooclose and Eric wanted to step back, but he was afraid of how it would appear.He gestured to a bench beneath the pine tree. “Wanna sit while we wait ‘emout?”

“Sure,” Rosesaid.

Eric let hersit first so he could decide the distance between them. He sat about a person’sspace away, but he put his arm over the back of the bench closer to her. Hehoped the arm would make him seem close without stifling.

“Where doyou go to school?” It was the best Eric had.

“The LeslieSchool in Falls Church. It’s off Old Keene Mill.”

“Hey, we’veplayed you guys in hockey.”

“Really?”Rose looked genuinely interested.

“Yeah. Lastyear, I think. Maybe it was this past fall. You ever go to the games?”

“Neverbeen.” A sly curve climbed up her mouth towards her cheek. Sexy? Flirting?“But I’ll have to start going now.”

Ericcouldn’t restrain his smile. “I’m not much to see. Third line and I’m stuckwith one of the girls.”

“Oh, girlscan’t play?” Rose said.

“Sure, girlscan play. This girl, however, can’t. It’s like being tied to a corpse. I’m no all-star,but she’s why our line doesn’t get much playing time. Whenever she gets decked,coach goes nuts.” Eric felt more comfortable. What was once unfamiliar andscary became less so. Rose looked like she could hold up her end of theconversation. When she wasn’t talking, she was listening—reallylistening—and her eyes told you so. They were engaged. And beautiful.

While theywaited for Drew and Constance to decouple, Eric and Rose discussed many thingsranging from more hockey talk to college and finally to family. Neither of themnoticed that they had been inching closer together all the time.

“Do you haveany brothers and sisters?” Eric asked. But he regretted the question. It was abad road. She might ask next.

“Yes. A pairof little brothers. Twins. Nicky and Andy. They’re five.”

“Ouch.”

“They’re ahandful. What about you?”

I knewit. Just lie. You do it all the time. It’s just easier.

“I, ah,well…” Eric’s hesitation ruined any chance of lying. He had to tell hernow. “Kinda yes and no.”

Rose giggled.“How can it be ‘yes and no’? Is your mom pregnant?”

“No. I had asister, but she died.”

Rose’s smiledropped. It was replaced with a look of surprise, shock, and sadness twisted upinto one. Her hand clutched his arm. “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry.”

That somethingtwitched inside of him again. He didn’t expect it. He let his guard down and alittle piece of Sarah sneaked by. But he yanked her by the tail and stuffed herback inside. It wasn’t quick enough. Rose saw the brief flicker in his eyes.

“You don’thave to talk about it. I’m sorry to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s notthat. I don’t think about her often. But yeah… she passed away almost ten yearsago. Her name was Sarah.”

Rose’s handtightened on his arm. The guy part of him took over and Eric decided to milkit. He always figured that Sarah wouldn’t mind.

“She washandicapped from birth. We took care of her for a long time.”

“Eric, I’mvery sorry. If it’s okay, can I ask how old she was?”

Eric pattedher hand, playing into her emotions. He was going to hell for sure, but if hegot to ride Rose there, well, all the better. “Sure. She was sixteen.” Thiswill get her. “My big sis.”

And itworked. Rose looked like she wanted to cry. But she probably remembered thatshe had just met him, because it cleared up. Rose seemed to choke it back.

“I’m sorry Ibrought it up,” Eric lied. “I didn’t mean to be a downer. Sometimes I tellpeople. Sometimes I don’t. But I usually don’t know which to do and I hesitateoccasionally. That’s when the jig is up.”

“Well, I’mglad you told me. Must mean I’m a little better than the average person,” Rosesaid, trying to smile again.

“That oryou’re hard to lie to. Maybe you’ve got one of those faces.”

Her smilegrew. It brightened her whole face. Eric wanted to kiss her. Adolescenthorniness wanted more.

“Hey,jerkoff.” Drew called over. “C’mon, there’s only a little bit left in the skatesession.” He turned and headed into the building with Constance on his back.

Eric offeredRose his hand. “Let’s go.”

She took it.“I’m not a good skater. Last time I did it, I was very little.”

Ericexaggerated a look at her height. “So… not so long ago, then.”

She tappedhim, playfully. “Jerk. I might need some help.”

They headedfor the doors. Eric glanced at her and said, “You can hold my hand there, too.”

For a fewmoments, Rose didn’t answer. When she did, Eric blushed. She said: “Good.”

* * *

At the topof the hill overlooking the rink, two men sat in a red truck playing the cardgame “War.” But they were not actually playing “War;” they were watching EricSteele and his friends. There was nothing unique or particularly striking aboutthem. They could have been anybody and that was the point.

A cameramounted on the hood ornament of the truck in the shape of the Dodge symbolresponded to the tiny joystick sitting in the cab where a cup holder might havebeen in another truck. The man in the driver’s seat thumbed the stick andzoomed in on the kids.

The otherman spoke into a microphone in his collar. He relayed a dry account of the sceneand asked for instructions. On the other end of the radio, the Shadow Manlounged in an office chair beside a small desk and a computer. He grinned.“That’s perfect. Find out who the others are and stay on him. We’ll stick withtomorrow’s meet and use the others if necessary.”

The otherfaceless man replied in the affirmative and ended contact. Radio silence was ineffect until 2000 hours. They would receive further instructions then.

Meanwhile,Eric and the others disappeared into the rink. But it was no problem. The menin the truck tapped into the building’s security camera feed and watched thingsfrom there.

* * *

Everythingwas going right. Eric was saying all the right things. He was telling all theright jokes. And he was giving off all the right signals. He must have been;Rose was responding. Eric rarely knew what girls were thinking, but he had agood idea that Rose liked him.

It is easierto operate romantically when both people realize there is a mutual attraction.Meeting someone new is like being blind or engaging in submarine warfare. A lotof time is spent feeling out the space or learning where the target is. But itcan be dangerous because no one wants to make a wrong move or say the wrongthing. However, if one or both people realize that the other person likes himor her, it becomes easier to maneuver. That fear of saying or doing the wrongthing eases because the other person is more likely to forgive a misstep ifit’s made by someone they like.

Eric wasusually quiet around girls at first. But Rose was disarming. She was verygood-looking but not in an intimidating way—she was Girl Next Door Hot.Attainably hot. Beyond her looks, Eric liked her personality. She laughed athis jokes and his imitations, but not everything. She called him on the jokesthat fell flat and spun them back. Rose challenged him.

Eveningfree-skate sessions were usually quiet. Eric and Rose almost had the rink tothemselves. Folks coming home from work weren’t too eager to sweat a couple oflaps around the rink after an hour in traffic. Drew and Constance disappearedinto the hockey locker rooms which had locks on the doors. A few young figureskaters swizzled by and did spins at center ice. A mom and her young boyshobbled around the sides, clutching at the boards. And a father and son ranhockey drills in the far corner.

Eric andRose circled and she clutched Eric’s arm. She wasn’t actually that bad of askater, but kept falling into Eric. He steadied her every time.

“So, do youhave a step stool in every room of your house?” Eric asked.

Rose feignedanger. “Do you?”

“Touché.”

“So whenyou’re not at school or here, what do you do?” Rose asked as she slipped alittle and squeezed Eric’s hand.

“That’s kindof a weird way of asking about my hobbies,” Eric said. “Umm. I dunno, I guessI’m kinda boring. No… strike that. I’m a geek, I guess.”

“Ha. Why’sthat?”

“Well, Ilike to read. I write. Um. I really like TV and movies. And not just as a lazy,“sit around” kind of thing, but I like the artistry behind it. Though, since Ilike movies like The Last Boy Scout and The Big Lebowski, I don’tknow if it’s all about the ‘art.’”

“Never sawthose.”

Eric glaredat her. “You’ve never seen The Big Lebowski?”

“What do youwrite about?” Rose sidled closer.

“Nothing tooserious. It’s really just to have fun. Not to publish or anything.”

“Yeah… butwhat’s it about?”

“Well, Imade up this story about Star Trek where me and my friends are thecharacters. It’s fan fiction.” Eric cringed as he said it.

Roselaughed. “Star Trek?! You are a big geek.” But Eric could see shewas just playing with him. And when he looked at her, he was starting to seesomething else in her gaze. Something more.

“Yes, well…it’s therapeutic,” Eric said. “That’s not all I write. I’ve got a few horrorstories.”

“Really?”Rose jerked to a stop and almost brought them both down. “I love scarystories. Scary movies, too.”

“Youkidding? That’s great. My old girlfriend used to hate ‘em.”

“Well,that’s dumb. Scary movies get your blood goin’, ya know?”

They lookedat each other for just a moment. Just a glance. But it was there. They wantedto jump each other. Eric cleared his throat. “Yeah. I know.”

And it wasover. They went back to skating and for a few moments didn’t say anything. Thesilence wasn’t uncomfortable though. They were mulling over what that lookmeant. Their individual sexual intelligence divisions were pouring over thedata and coming up with similar results.

Eric knewwhat that look felt like to him. It felt like the opposite of Melanie’s gaze,which froze his soul. It was like the look Melanie used to give him. Before.But Rose wasn’t Melanie. No, she was a different animal indeed. Eric foundhimself wondering what Rose’s orgasm would sound like. Then he wanted to replaceout for himself. For as romantic as he wanted to be, he was still aseventeen-year-old boy.

“Do you havea date to the prom?” Rose blurted.

“No. No, Idon’t.”

Rose’sself-assuredness crept back. “Too bad, ‘cause I do.”

Eric’stongue froze and all the surplus comfort he’d been feeling slipped out of himdown to the ice. He looked at her. Whatever she saw on his face brought a smileto hers.

“I’mkidding.” She grinned and her cheeks flashed red. Rose jabbed him on theshoulder.

Eric breathed a big sigh withoutrealizing he had held his breath. It was followed by a relieved smirk. He shookhis head. “Bitch…”

“Ya big meanie,” Rose responded, jabbinghim on the arm harder. His muscle tensed against her fist. She liked it. Heliked it.

“You oughtaget worse. That was low.” Eric didn’t stop smiling. “You should go with me tomake up for it.”

“Go where?To the prom? We just met…” Eric sensed she was joking, but he couldn’t be sure.He wanted to show up to the prom with Rose Foote on his arm.

She went on,“Besides, maybe I wanna ask you.”

“Impossible.You’re a girl.” Eric laughed. He dodged her jab, but regretted it as her missthrew her off balance.

He caughther. She pressed against him with her feet barely on the ice. At such an oddangle, Eric thought he would have had to strain to hold her up, but she weighedbarely anything. Either she was really light or he was getting stronger…

Myfingers punched into cinderblock…

Hisdiversion in thought evaporated when he realized he was holding her. Rose’sarms were pressed between them and his were along her sides and around hershoulders. She looked up at him with palpable trepidation. He wanted to kissher. He thought that she wanted him to.

But hedidn’t. Something wouldn’t let him. As the coldness slithered inside him, hehad a good guess what it might be. Still, he had to recover or he’d never getthe chance to make up for his hesitation.

“So, willyou go with me?”

“Yes.” Aflicker of something he couldn’t read passed through her eyes. Disappointment?Relief?

Eric stoodher back up. “Good, I’m glad I didn’t have to drop you.”

“Youwouldn’t have.”

“How do youknow? You just met me. I could be a big jerk and you wouldn’t know.”

“You’reright. I wouldn’t.”

* * *

Eric thoughtabout Rose all night. She had stirred something inside of him that had been bitterand cold for some time. Not exactly his heart, but that too. No, it was morelike his spirit. He felt like frozen meat just about to thaw. No softness yet,but the ice was cracking.

He neverthought he had been depressed, though he might have been. Tim and Nancy Steelewere “can-do” types, who forbade the word “can’t.” To them, depression wassomething that could be overcome by pure will. People who got “depressed” wereweak and just needed to pull it together. Because they were his parents, thatattitude rubbed off on him. He never gave in to thinking he was depressed.Though, sometimes when he saw commercials about depression, some of thesymptoms seemed to apply to him: lethargy, loss of appetite, feeling like hecould sleep for days, etc. In fact, right after the breakup, Eric had feltthose symptoms for sure.

Rose’spresence, gaze, voice, and interest in him shined through the darkness inside.There weren’t any florescent lights on in there yet, but a few candles nowburned. Despite the cliché and the melodrama, he felt alive. All becauseof a girl named Rose.

If thingsdidn’t work out with Rose, it would be okay. Eric knew that. But the fact thatshe was interested in him and responded to him showed him that Melanie hadn’tbeen a fluke; other girls could like him too. He could be loved.

First loveis the best and worst love. Everything is new. Learning the tingles and heat oftouch is exhilarating and intoxicating. As a child, the mind is focused inward.Psychologically, children are very “me” centered. It’s only in adulthood thatreal appreciation for the needs and wants of others becomes important. A stepin that process is falling in love. Your thoughts turn outward towards someoneelse. Instead of thinking only of your own well-being and wants, you becomeconcerned with another’s. The happiness you want for yourself is wanted for theothers too. In fact, you want them to have it more.

Happinessonly multiplies when that person loves you back. When he or she wants for youwhat you want for them, it’s a true connection. True love. It is in thatwanting, that yearning, that you want to touch the other person. They want totouch you. Not just to feel good, but to be close. It’s innocent. There is noperversion. Touching is not obscene or sexual. As the feelings of love areexplored, so must the focus of that love be explored to discover one anotherand, in turn, discover yourself.

There isrisk, though, especially with first love. The potential to let it fill you upcompletely and consume everything you are is ever present. As with bathing inwarm water, one slight twist of the dial can burn you up or freeze you cold.For Eric, he knew both. Innocent love was gone from him. He knew it once. Heremembered it with fondness and with bitterness.

Once it’sgone, love becomes something else. Something new, yet familiar. But for Eric,it was just gone. Everything that had happened. Everything that was said. Hisemotions—his self—had been through the wringer. And in that childish way, hethought he couldn’t be loved. Some might say it was “irrational fear,” but fearis never irrational to someone who feels it. In this case, he had help. Somethings his mother would say sometimes…

You’regonna be a pretty lonely guy!

It’s nowonder you’re gonna end up alone.

Andthat’s why you’ll die alone.

Eric thoughthe was meant to be alone. Maybe because his mother had said it so often. ButMelanie really planted the twisted seed. When he was with her, it was likeproving his mom wrong. The fact that she was with him—that she loved him—meanthe wouldn’t be alone. But when that ended, when it crashed down from the sky,he feared that his mom had been right. You’re gonna end up alone. Lovebecame twisted together with his fear and, like that first love, consumed him.He stopped fearing loneliness… he just believed it.

Those whoknow you best—who love you—have the power to hurt you the most. Melanie did.Because she knew him so well and completely, her eyes were like guns and herwords like bombs. They ripped him apart.

Rose…

Justthinking about Rose made Eric smile. She was more than just a girl. She wasproof that he wasn’t meant to be alone. When there had been onlyMelanie, he suspected that it was a fluke. A cruel trick of fate. But if Rosecould feel for him too, then so could anyone else. If he had been attractiveand cute and funny to both Melanie and Rose, then so it could be withothers. Rose was a sign. A ray of light signaling the end of his pain.

Eric fellinto sleep thinking of Rose. Thinking of what could be. Dreaming what Rosemight look like naked. Hoping he would get to see…

…andignoring the pain beginning to burn again in his gut. Thinking of Rose madethis easy to put aside.

* * *

Eric andDrew had the same lunch session on Friday, Eric’s birthday. It was luckybecause they didn’t normally share the same lunch session on this day in theschedule, but Drew’s teacher cancelled class. They sat towards the middle ofthe table with Will and John’s “posse.” Eric and Drew were mostly left alone.John was writing physics formulas on the tabletop in ketchup, trying to prove apoint to Will on the previous night’s homework. Will’s counterpoints were inmustard.

“You likedher then?” Drew asked while eating brie for lunch. His mom always gave himeclectic lunches.

Eric wishedhe could hide his exuberance better. “Oh, yeah.”

“She likedyou, too, Chief… as Gibson would say.”

“It’sstrange. I felt so comfortable with her. She had an easy way about her.”

Drewlaughed. Eric instantly regretted his choice of terms, but he laughed too.

“Not easy thatway, Douche. But you know.”

Drew noddedand pulled out some cheese Goldfish. “Constance wants to double date,” he said,speaking with his mouth full.

“I’m up forit if you are.”

“That’d becool. S’been awhile since we could do that,” Drew said. There was no malicebehind the remark, but that was an example of why others didn’t like him much.That remark, harmlessly intended, cut deep. Drew meant it matter-of-factly, butsuch was his way. For Drew, his statement was true and because it was, no harmshould come of it. Eric had learned, however, to let those quips slide by.

“Believe me,I know.”

“You’re inluck, too, ‘cause she liked you as well. Constance said she was blushing thewhole way back.” Drew popped a few more Goldfish and dropped to an almostconspiratorial whisper, “You know… from what I hear, you may be able to getsomething out of this. You know? Maybe a ‘handy.’”

“A ‘handy’?What’s that?” Drew gestured a jerk-off motion as an answer. “Ah.”

“Melanie wasa big prude about stuff like that… well, insofar as it concerned my parts. Shedidn’t mind a friendly rub, herself, though,” Eric said. He made fun of herwhenever possible to cut down on the hurt of her memory and to act like hewasn’t bothered. It didn’t really matter since most everyone knew he’d beenripped apart.

Drewchuckled. “I never got that. You were together for like three years andyou got nothin’. What’d you stick around for?”

For as good a friend and support as Drewhad always been, there were things about Eric that he just didn’t get. Heprobably never would. That he would even ask frustrated Eric. The answer shouldhave been clear: I loved her. But no, as far as Drew was concerned, youcannot fall in love at fourteen. What age had to do with it, Eric wasn’t quitesure.

“She took it slow. The promise of more, Iguess,” Eric said, half-lying. Loving her was the truth, too, but he did getstrung along hoping for coital interaction.

Drew shookhis head. “Waste o’time, I guess.”

“Couldn’thave said it better myself.” But he didn’t quite believe it.

“Well, fromwhat I hear, Rose hasn’t been deflowered yet, either. Fresh meat. Ya know?”

“Ha. Aren’tI fresh meat, too, then?”

Drewshrugged and balled up his lunch bag. “I guess. That’s trouble, too, but damnif it isn’t”—he clapped his hands—“tight.”

Eric smiled,but he liked Rose. He felt a faint flicker of anger at Drew for referring toher crudely. Inwardly shrugging, he thought ah well, it’s what guys do.That didn’t quite make it okay with him, but he was able to put it behind him.

“Wanna do ittonight?” Drew asked.

“I can’t.”Jim didn’t want Drew to come along, so Eric lied. “My parents are taking me outto dinner for my birthday.”

“Oh, cool.”Drew acted like he’d known all along. Eric knew he forgot. “I’ll give you yourpresent tomorrow then.”

Eric nodded.“Thanks.” He wondered what Drew would come up with at the last minute. By thefollowing day, he wouldn’t care.

* * *

Old Town wasa stretch of city in northeast Alexandria, along the Potomac River, where theFounding Fathers probably used to stumble drunk out of the bar to their horses.Now, it was a residential area and a tourist trap. There were restaurants, icecream parlors, coffee shops, little boutiques, and, of course, the waterfrontdock. River tours left the dock periodically.

Typically,the area was dominated by families—though by dark, young couples owned thestreets. Since Northern Virginia was rife with chain restaurants and shoppingmalls, Old Town was a nice alternative. Near the waterfront, the streets werepaved with cobblestones and rustic-looking wood plant holders lined the walks.

Eric took itfor granted. As a boy, his dad took him into D.C. and all around the area. Theyvisited George Washington’s house, Fort Hunt Park, all the various monuments inD.C., Ford’s Theater, the Tidal Basin, and the Smithsonian. Old Town was oneplace Eric hadn’t visited often. Growing up, Tim Steele avoided going placeswith heavy traffic if he could avoid it. The few times Eric and his dad hadbeen, they had walked through after trekking the Mount Vernon trail thatextends from Crystal City to the Mount Vernon estate along the Potomac. Ericremembered the view of the river and the time he spent with his dad more thanthe Ben & Jerry’s.

Now thatEric was older, he appreciated Old Town and the rustic waterfront. All ofNorthern Virginia was like one big metropolis. He lived in what he thought ofas “urban suburbs”—he called it this because the suburbs were supposed to beoutside of the city and peaceful. There was little peace or quiet inAlexandria.

Driving inOld Town was different, too. There were fewer assholes. Or at least, theassholes had to pay better attention. There were so many pedestrians,bicyclists, and cars that running stop signs and ignoring turn signals justwasn’t workable.

Ericwondered why Jim wanted to meet in Old Town. They never really hung out there.In fact, Eric could only think of one time. In fifth grade, the morning after asleepover, Eric’s dad had taken everyone out for breakfast. Back then, therewas a little diner run by “mom and pop” along King Street near the river. Ericate so much French toast that he felt sick. He could remember the bulging,heavy lump in his gut when they left. Jim had wolfed down a stack of pancakeslike they nothing. He said he could’ve eaten more, but he clutched his stomachall the same. Of course, when Eric’s dad offered to get everyone ice cream, theyweren’t so full anymore.

Eric found aparking spot towards the end of Duke Street but thought it looked too small tofit his mom’s Durango. But as he passed by, he realized he could work it out.Once he parked, Eric glanced at the clock; it was 6:46. He unfastened his beltand stepped down from the driver’s side. A funny thought occurred to him. Youwere born at 6:47 p.m., his mother’s voice. After eighteen hours ofpushing your melon head popped out…

I’ll beeighteen, officially, in less than a minute.

He shut thedoor, beeped it, and slipped his keys into his jacket pocket. Eric startedalong South Union Street towards the Starbucks, where he and Jim agreed tomeet. He was happy that Jim was able to be home for his birthday. Eric hadmissed him more than he cared to admit. His absence couldn’t have come at aworse time. Eric just hoped things hadn’t been too bad for him…

No.

The pain wasback, but now it was different. Eric couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knewthis would be worse—WAY WORSE. The dull buzzing one feels in the back oftheir throat when they’re about to throw up throbbed all over his body.

It’s inmy bones… I want to scratch it out!

He felt thescalding sensation building up again inside of him. Something hard slammed hisknees—the street—and his arms wrapped around his torso like that trickwhere you’re making out with yourself. Only this was no trick. Eric’s fingersdug through his jacket and into his shoulders! Blood seeped between hisjacket and shirt, and beneath the shirt down his chest and back. But he didn’tfeel it. Nor did he feel how the blood sizzled as it coursed down his body.

Eric lookedup for… something. ANYthing. He wanted help. He needed help.

What’shappening to me?!

His throatwas coarse… did I yell that?“Ooohhhhhhhwwww GOD!” It was all he could think to scream. He passed out.Tendrils of curling smoke or steamswirled up from his body.

Eric lay inthe street, unmoving, as liquid fire scorched him from the inside. Fate’s cruelway of saving him from worse.

* * *

TheColonel’s two men in the truck were too slow. They saw Eric go down in themiddle of the street, but some good Samaritans got to him before they could.The first guy, some blonde-haired hick in a Hawaiian shirt, turned thesmoldering kid onto his back and came away with a third-degree burn on hishand. He screamed, of course.

Now cellphones were out and everywhere. 911, emergency. They couldn’t get him.Too many people and too many phones. Fuck. The McNulty kid was dead. Hefucked it up. The boss was right, they had waited too long. Now it washappening.

The driverspoke into his collar radio, “Vulture, this is Possum. We have a problem. TheChimera just went down in the street. We think it’s happening. Too many eyes onthe scene, however, and locals have been called. Kid’s going up like smokedpig.”

“We’llprepare for Beta. Track to the hospital and see if Chimera cannot be reacquiredthere. Wolf will pick up Beta at the coffee shop. The procedure will beginsoon, unless you retrieve. Understood?” The Shadow Man’s said. His mirthless grin could be feltthrough the radio.

The drivernodded to his partner and replied in the affirmative on the radio. Outside, theblonde-haired tourist clutched his red, scalded hand and blubbered.

“Serves himright, fuckin’ pussy,” the man in the passenger seat sneered.

“Monitor thepolice band. We’ll try and get the drop on the hospital location. Lil’ shitwon’t slip away again.” The driver started the engine and waited for hisdestination.

It would all be over soon.