Page 89 of Them Bones

He continued his grueling punishment of her body for all of October, never removing her clothing, and never letting her remove his. Sometimes when they were kissing he’d let her hands wander, fingers brushing under the waist of his boxers peeking out above his pants, her thumbs digging into the hollow of his hip bones, her fingers tracing the seemingly-permanent bulge in his jeans. But somehow she always found her wrists pinned above her head or her nails digging into his back as he mercilessly worked her with his fingers, distracting her, holding her at bay.

By Halloween, she’d been ready to drug him and take him against his will. She told him as much, as they walked hand-in-hand through the neighbourhood while Dustin trick-or-treated in his Death suit, both of them dressed in Toronto Blue Jays jerseys, Laney with black stripes of paint on her cheeks.

He’d compromised the next night, padding into his room shirtless and in grey sweatpants after supper. She’d climbed on top of him, pushing his hands above his head and placing them on his headboard, keenly aware of how muchmoreof him she could feel through the soft fabric.

“Don’t move,” she’d whispered, kissing her way down his neck, his collar bone, his pecs… When she pressed a soft kiss to his sternum, his hands found her shoulders and squeezed but she’d gripped his wrists and pushed them back above his head. “Bad dog,” she’d said to him, nipping his ear lobe. “Stay.”

He’d groaned but obeyed, and she’d explored his upper body with ardor until their kissing grew frantic and wild, their hips grinding together with abandon… He’d come against her with a moan, just from the feel of her body on his. It had made her feel like a fuckingsuperhero.

By the end of November, she reallydidfeel like a bitch in heat. He had to use more and more force to keep her hands away from his fly, her wrists and forearms deliciously swollenhalf the time. She’d trace the puffy skin in class, daydreaming about getting back to Jerry’s once school was done, about them finishing work, about the one or two hours they got to themselves every night while Dustin drew at Jerry’s kitchen table and Jerry discreetly increased the volume on the evening news or his record player.

It snowed the second week of December, and she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything as beautiful as Shane working in the snow, his strong body moving with a kind of ethereal grace reserved for deer and like,unicorns, the white snow catching in his dark hair. She tried to focus on Jerry’s paperwork, knowing Shane would find her soon anyway (he was as unable to stay away as she was) but she kept finding her eyes drifting back to the window. Shane was laughing, his face glowing, as he chucked a snowball at Dustin who was helping him move a stack of lumber into the garage.

Dustin shook it off and kicked some loose snow back at him, a big smile on his face.

She’d never felt so happy in her entire life.

Jerry was pouring bowls of stew when Shane came inside, dropped a casual kiss on her forehead, and headed for the shower.

She itched to follow him but knew it wouldn’t fly. He’d never let her, and Jerry probably wouldn’t either. He allowed them their privacy but seemed to trust that Shane had drawn a line (it felt like ahundredlines) and was sticking to it.

When he joined them at the table, inthosegrey sweats, his white t-shirt damp around the neck, her mouth watered.

“Something weird happened at school this week,” Dustin said, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a piece of paper. He slid it across the table to Laney.

“Acceptance to Riverglen?” she read aloud with a gasp. Shane and Jerry looked at each other, confused.

“What’s Riverglen?” they said at the same time.

“It’s an art school,” Laney breathed. “Dusty… how did this happen?”

“Mrs. Benowitz asked me about my art class. About why I wasn’t participating.”

Shane grimaced. He’d been incensed when Dustin told them that his art teacher wouldn’t even look at his work, simply because he wouldn’t do it as part of a group in class.

“I showed her some of my stuff. She called Miss Nancy.”

“Miss Nancy? That sounds familiar…”

“She taught art in kindergarten, sometimes.”

Laney smiled warmly. Dustin hadlovedMiss Nancy. She was who introduced him to art, really. He’d always doodled in the blank covers of colouring books, but Miss Nancy gave him his first paintbrush. His first canvas. His first pastels. She’d bring extra supplies on the weeks she showed up, for him to take home. He’d been drawing and painting ever since.

“Mrs. Benowitz said that she… that Miss Nancy remembered me. That she’s a teacher now, at Riverglen. They got me in. I can start in January.”

Laney squealed with excitement, bursting over to her brother and wrapping him in a big hug.

“Holy shit Dusty, this is amazing!” she shrieked. “I’m so proud of you! Oh my god!”

He flushed, and fidgeted, but she hugged him anyway.

Jerry took the paper and read it, and then frowned. “Says here you need parental consent. For the transfer.”

Laney frowned too. Linette hadn’t been home since school started and there was no way Cary would sign that. He’d never allow Dustin to attend afairy school.When Riverglen had first opened, he’d said it was going to ruin the neighbourhood, attracting all the ‘art fags’.

“Here,” Shane said, grabbing the paper from Jerry. He picked up a pen off the sideboard and signedLinette Hawtonwith a flourish. “Problem solved.”

Jerry tried to give him a stern look, but his mouth was twitching and his eyes twinkled.

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