A Purple Winter

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

So I’d survived another day of high school.

I was at the top of my class in every subject, except for history. Teachers rarely paid any attention to me, and my mother didn’t even bother reading my report cards anymore because they were always so good.

One day, after I graduated, I was going to move into an apartment uptown and become an accountant. No, a financial consultant. I was going to be a fancy gay vegetarian, and no one would ever know that I’d once lived in a run-down building in a working-class neighborhood with a mother whose main activity was organizing her pills and renewing her prescriptions.

When my dad would come visit me in my elegant home, I’d make him take off his shoes and use a coaster.

Lugging my art project and school bag, I came walking up to my apartment building. Boone, Nick’s younger brother, was sitting on the first step of their front porch, throwing burning matches in a patch of muddy snow. It was cold outside and he wasn’t wearing a coat. What was it about the Lund kids that made them so indifferent to the cold? Must have been their Nordic blood. “He—hey Boone,” I said, stepping up to my porch.

“Hey, Red.” He flicked another lit match at the snow. “You made that?”

I glanced down at my art project. It was a gargoyle I’d shaped out of clay and painted black. I’d gotten an A on it.

Boone blew into his hands. “It’s cool. Can I have it?”

I knew my mother would hate the thing, so I handed it to him over the railing.

Boone turned the gargoyle in his hands. The kid was getting big for his age. He looked a lot like his father, Johan. They had the same stature and good nature. Nick was more like his refined and complicated mother.

I sniffed, the cold air getting into my flimsy Sears winter coat.

“I’m not allowed inside,” Boone said. “‘Cause Nico and David are downstairs and Nico says he’ll tear me out a new asshole if I bother them.”

David was with Nick? Alone, downstairs? A fireball of jealousy bounced around my chest, heating up my face and stinging my eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Boone’s eyes widened at the sight of my expression. “You want your gargoyle back or something?”

Behind him, the door opened and I didn’t have time to hurry inside my house before David stepped out of the Lund home. His black hair was a mess of curls and his cheeks were flushed. He wore his long black coat over dark clothes and those fancy leather boots I’d seen on him before. I envied his sense of style. His parents were rich, but David never really seemed happy, expensive clothes or not.

“Don’t sit out here, Boone,” he said, in his melodic, but slightly nasal voice. He passed Boone in the stairs and ruffled his hair. “You’ll catch a cold.” David walked off, moving like a cat on a wire, but then looked over his shoulder. “Go back inside. Your brother’s nice and calm now.” He saw me there and seemed to flinch a little. But before I could say anything, he’d hurried off, stuffing his long hands into his elegant coat.

I watched him for a while. He was like a ghost gliding down the street. Something about him was lighter than the rest of us.

What did he think of me?

“Ah, Bunny Boy,” Nick said, his voice coming from the doorway next to mine. “Get in here.”

Boone stood and gave his brother a hard look.

“What’s that you got?” Nick asked.

“It’s a demon.” Boone tossed his head my way. “Red made it. He gave it to me.” He entered the house.

Nick poked his head out and looked over at me. “Mrs. Stanilos. Art class. Notre-Dame de Paris theme. Right?” He’d always been a year ahead of me in school. He stepped out, wearing a white button-up shirt tucked into a pair of fitted black pants. “She was the only teacher who liked me, so I used to get good grades with her.”

Well, in that outfit, he was getting an A plus from me.

“I’m off to work, so…” Nick shut the door and locked it.

“No—o coat?”

He twirled a set of keys. “Got my car running.” His hair was tied back more neatly than usual and the white sky was reflecting in his eyes. “Joy Division. Cool.” He pointed to my coat.

I remembered the patch I’d sewn on my coat’s sleeve.

“Didn’t know you were into that kind of music.” Nick looked away at the street, swallowing. I watched his Adam’s apple move in his throat. My body reacted to the look in his eye. “I’ll see you around.” He stepped down to the path and kicked some fresh snow over the pile of burned matches.

“Nick,” I called out, courage coming from somewhere deep inside me.

He stopped and turned to look at me, his expectant gaze piercing my heart. “Yes…O’Reilly?”

I licked my lips and took a shaky breath. “Where d—do you wo—ork?”

For a second, he seemed surprised. “I work at a Polish restaurant. It’s in the old port. It’s pretty bourgeois. Good tips.”

I turned around, fumbling for the door handle. “Thank you.”

“Well, you’re very welcome.” Behind me, Nick’s voice was smooth, but a little husky. “Hope you drop by some time, O’Reilly.”