“You’ve got hundreds of friends.”
“They’re just acquaintances. There’s a big difference between friends and acquaintances. Until you moved to town, I’d been a long time between friends.”
Colin didn’t know if Roy was telling the truth or making fun of him. He had no experience by which to judge, for no one else had ever talked to him as Roy had just done.
Roy put down his half-finished bottle of cola and took a penknife out of his pocket. “I think it’s time for this.”
“For what?”
Standing in the soft light from the soda machine, Roy opened the knife, put the sharp point against the meaty part of his palm, and pressed hard enough to draw blood: a single thick drop like a crimson pearl. He squeezed the tiny wound until more blood oozed from it and trickled down his hand.
Colin was aghast. “Why’d you do that?”
“Hold out your hand.”
“Are you crazy?”
“We’ll do it just like the Indians.”
“Do what?”
“We’ll be blood brothers.”
“We’re already friends:”
“Being blood brothers is a whole lot better.”
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“When our blood has mingled, we’ll be like one person. In the future, any friends I make will automatically become your friends. And your friends will be mine. We’ll always stand together, never apart. The enemies of one will be the enemies of the other, so we’ll be twice as strong and twice as smart as anyone else. We’ll never fight alone. It’ll be you and me against the whole damned world. And the world better look out.”
“All of that just because of a bloody handshake?” Colin asked.
“The important thing is what the handshake symbolizes. It stands for friendship and love and trust.”
Colin was unable to take his eyes from the scarlet thread that crossed Roy’s palm and wrist.
“Give me your hand,” Roy said.
Colin was excited about being blood brothers with Roy, but he was also squeamish. “That knife doesn’t look clean.”
“It is.”
“You can get blood poisoning from a dirty cut.”
“If there was any chance of that, would I have cut myself first?”
Colin hesitated.
“For Christ’s sake,” Roy said, “the hole won’t be any bigger than a pinprick. Now give me your hand.”
Reluctantly Colin held out his right hand, palm up. He was trembling.
Roy grasped him firmly and put the point of the blade to his skin.
“It’ll just sting for a second,” Roy assured him.
Colin didn’t dare speak for fear his voice would quaver badly.
The pain was sudden, sharp, but not long-lasting. Colin bit his lip, determined not to cry out.
Roy folded the knife and put it away.
With shaky fingers Colin pressed the wound until it was bleeding freely.
Roy slipped his bloody hand into Colin’s. His grip was firm.
Colin squeezed back with all his strength. Their wet flesh made a barely audible squishing sound as they shook hands.
They stood in front of the deserted service station, in cool night air scented with gasoline, staring into each other’s eyes, breathing each other’s breath, feeling strong and special and wild.
“My brother,” Roy said.
“My brother.”
“Forever,” Roy said.
“Forever.”
Colin concentrated hard on the pinprick in his hand, trying to sense that moment when Roy’s blood first began to creep into his own veins.
9
After the impromptu ceremony, Roy wiped his sticky hand on his jeans and picked up his unfinished Pepsi. “What do you want to do next?”
“It’s after eleven,” Colin said.
“An hour from now, do you turn into a pumpkin?”
“I’d better go home.”
“It’s early.
“If my mother gets back and I’m not there, she’ll worry.”
“From what you’ve told me, she doesn’t sound like the kind of mother who’d worry about a kid too much.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“I thought she went to dinner with this Thornberg guy.”
“That was around nine o‘clock,” Colin said. “She might be getting home soon.”
“Boy, are you naive.”
Colin looked at him warily. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She won’t be home for hours.”
“How do you know?”
“About now,” Roy said, “they’ve had dinner and brandy, and old Thomberg’s just getting her into bed at his place.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Colin said uneasily. But he remembered how his mother had looked when she’d gone out: fresh, crisp, and beautiful in a clinging, low-cut dress.
Roy leered at him, winked. “You think your mother’s a virgin?”
“Of course not.”
“So did she suddenly become a nun or something?”
“Jeez.”
“Face it, good buddy, your mother screws around like everyone else.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’d sure as hell like to screw her.”
“Stop it!”
“Touchy, touchy.”
“Are we blood brothers or not?” Colin asked.
Roy swallowed the last of his soft drink. “What’s that got to do with it?”
“If you’re my blood brother, you’ve got to show some respect for my mother, just as if she were your mother.”
Roy put his empty bottle in the rack beside the soda machine. He cleared his throat and spat on the pavement. “Hell, I don’t even respect my own mother. The bitch. She’s a real bitch. And why should I treat your old lady like some sort of goddess when you don’t have any respect for her?”
“Who says I don’t?”
“I say you don’t.”
“You think you can read minds or something?”
“Didn’t you tell me that your old lady always spent more time with her girlfriends than she did with you? Was she ever around when you needed her?”
“Everyone has friends,” Colin said weakly.
“Did you have friends before you met me?”
Colin shrugged. “I’ve always had my hobbies.”
“And didn’t you tell me that when she was married to your old man, she left him once a month-”
“Not that often.”
“-just walked out for a few days at a time, even for a week or more?”
“That was because he beat her,” Colin said.
“Did she take you with her when she left?”
Colin finished his grape soda.
“Did she take you with her?” Roy asked again.
“Not usually.”
“She left you there with him.”
“He’s my father, after all.”
“He sounds dangerous to me,” Roy said.
“He never touched me. Just her.”
“But he might have hurt you.”
“But he didn’t.”
“She couldn’t know for sure what he’d do when she left you with him.”
“It worked out okay. That’s all that matters.”
“And now all her time’s taken up with this art gallery,” Roy said. “She works every day and most evenings.”
“She’s building a future for herself and for me.”
Roy made a sour face. “Is that her excuse? Is that what she tells you?”
“It’s true, I guess.”
“How touching. Building a future. Poor, hard-working Weezy Jacobs. It breaks my heart, Colin. It really does. Shit. More nights than not, she’s out with someone like Thomberg-”
“That’s business.”
“-and she still doesn’t have time for you.”
“So what?”
“So you should stop worrying about getting home,” Roy said. “Nobody gives a damn if you’re home or not. Nobody cares. So let’s have some fun.”
Colin put his empty bottle in the rack. “What’ll we do?”