Page 63 of Filthy Little Secret

“Can we calm down?” he asks.

“I’ll calm the fuck down when your boyfriend gives us some fucking crank, you little faggot.”

Rage swells within me.

Faggot?

Why the fuck did he take it there?

I see red. I want to pound the shit into that stupid face of his, but Mark puts his hand out before me, letting me know that that’s the last thing that needs to happen right now.

I’ll just make the situation worse, and if Mark wasn’t here, I wouldn’t mind, but I’m not putting him in the middle of this bullshit any more than he already is.

“Guys, let’s go back inside,” Brody says.

It’s shitty that he has to deal with this, but he shouldn’t have told them I could hook them up to begin with.

That’s not how this works.

“Come on, Tim,” Mark says. He grabs my jacket and pulls me toward the bike.

“I’m not done talking to you, fairy,” the guy in the hoodie says.

I swing around as he snatches my arm and throws a fist with his other hand.

Mark shoves me back and the guy’s fist hits Mark right in his temple, pushing him back onto the driveway.

I’m going to tear his fucking face off.

I race for the guy, but his friend tackles me from the side. He pushes me up against a car in the driveway and slams his fist into my ribs a few times.

The hoodie asshole squats down, grabs Mark by his shirt collar, forces him to his feet, and punches him again. And again.

Brody hurries to him.

Mark gets a punch in right before the guy punches him so hard that Mark hits the ground.

“Fuck!” Brody shouts, grabbing Mark’s attacker’s shoulders and pulling him back.

“Dude, it’s over. It’s fucking over!”

I deck the guy on me, and he falls back, seemingly pulled from the rage-filled attitude that possessed him.

“You fucking bastards,” I say, reaching into my pocket and retrieving my sling blade. Always keep one on me in case shit like this starts up. “Come at me again. Just fucking come at me again.”

I want to cut them so bad.

Mark isn’t getting up.

And the guys look worried. Like they’ve finally realized just how much they could have hurt him.

Wasted pieces of shit.

Brody keeps his hands on the guy in the hoodie. “Get the fuck out of here, you fucking assholes!” he shouts.

I hurry to Mark, keeping my knife aimed at them in case they try anything.

“Fuck this shit,” the guy in the hoodie says as he heads toward the street. His friend scrambles to his feet and heads after him.

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