[Having conversed with another author whose work I admire so much, I have tried to add a certain... flair to my writing. I felt it lacked something existential, some kind of life, and so what you are about to read, I hope, has mastered that idea, mastered the art of good writing, that same kind of good writing that others seem to ooze. But like it is said: 'Some people are born good, others have to attain it.' Here's hoping I've attained it.]

[Disclaimer: The usual stuff... If this turns you off, you should turn it off. Got it? Enjoy. Comments to: jendor2@excite.com Thanks.]

Joseph Gordon-Levitt
(part 3)

By Sam Curtz

Dedicated to The Writer -- The Wind Beneath My "Finns"
You Were "Born Good"

Michael took the Vaseline from Joey and smiled. His first time fucking ass! He clenched his jaw muscles and blinked, unscrewed the cap and sniffed the substance. An odd smell, light, almost kind to his nose. 'Okay,' he said, hands beginning to tremble, and Joey turned round onto his knees. 'Right,' Michael added, and began to squeeze the contents onto his hand.

His penis throbbed under his touch, balls contracting with excitement. As he pasted some of the Vaseline on Joey's butt, he giggled nervously as Joey said, 'Ugh! That's cold!'

Michael closed his eyes and Joey lowered his head, his hair falling around his face, cheeks getting flushed. Michael methodically replaced the cap on the Vaseline and sat the tube down, then looked at Joey's ass, round cheeks looking so inviting, and he moved forward, one hand leaning on Joey's back, the other pointing his dick towards Joey's puckering hole. It felt so strange, his cock-head pressing against warm flesh, but it was nice, felt natural. He pressed, directed his cock with his hand, pushed, and with a pop his head was in. He wanted to scream, wanted to shout, wanted to sing for joy. Finally he was penetrating another boy! Finally he was doing what he had long dreamed of.

Joey moaned as Michael eased himself in. He closed his eyes and loosened his ass walls, letting Michael go deeper, and he pushed back on him the further he went in.

And then Michael was in, in all the way, and he paused, catching his breath, listening to the blood rush through his ears, to the pulse of his heart in his chest, and he bit his lip as he drew back, pushed forward, drew back, pushed again...

Finally, Michael was doing it. Finally, Joey was being done. Joey had wanted this before, wanted to know what it felt like, wanted the commitment that walks hand-in-hand with full-penetration. And Michael - well, he was in Heaven! The tight ass clenched his rod and he pumped himself into Joey, pumped, sweating; pumped, panting; pumped...

In Heaven. Both of them.

* * *

'You say you want diamonds and a ring of gold; you say you want your story to remain untold. But all the promises we made, from the cradle to the grave; when all I want is you...' Joey sang softly as he plucked the strings on his new guitar, curled up on his bed, the light out, curtains drawn and a few candles lit and propped in front of a mirror, shimmering light emanating from the beads of flame, shadows flickering on the walls. The song was called 'All I Want Is You', by the Irish band, U2 - he had bought the CD when he was in England two years ago after hearing the song in a hotel lobby.

He smiled, almost sadly, eyes welling with aged tears. His life was strange. It had not been long - a little over a year - since he admitted to himself that he was gay, and then seven or eight months ago he had met Michael and it had been some kind of a whirlwind romance... well, a whirlwind sex-fest. But his feelings for Michael ran so much deeper; he wanted to tell him he loved him, wanted to say he loved him and know that Michael believed him, even though the boy was a year-and-a-bit younger than Joey. His life was complicated, just like the world he lived in. He hugged his guitar close to his chest, resting his head on the fretwork and began to cry, tears fell over his dark lashes onto his cheeks and down onto the neck of the stratocaster, clinging to the nylon strings, hugging them like they never wanted to let go.

Licking parched lips, tasting salty tears, he whispered to himself, 'Why doesn't anyone understand? Why? I just want to be loved, I want to be hugged and to be told that I'm loved for who I am, for what I am.' His breathing was ragged and short as he fought to suppress his sobs. If he told Michael he loved him, how would he react? Probably laugh, laugh in his face and say, 'Tough, cos I don't love you; I just used you to suck my dick!'

No, Joey thought, he wouldn't say something like that. But it still hurt him, deep inside, down in the pit of his stomach, hurt him to think that one wrong move could ruin the only thing he lived for now.

As he lay there, tears still running the length of his burning cheeks, a soft knock came to his door. 'Who is it?' he managed to ask without sobbing through it. Michael's voice called back and Joey told him to enter. He was frantically wiping the tears from his face and sniffing back sadness as the boy came in and flicked the light switch.

'Hey, what's up?' Michael asked as Joey shrank away from the light that hurt his eyes. He could tell he had been crying, saw the puffy cheeks and flushed look on his face.

'Nothing,' Joey answered, defiantly. The last thing he wanted was for Michael to know why he had been reduced to tears. He refused to look directly up at his friend, smiled at him as if to say I'm not really fine, just don't ask me what's up, and said out loud, 'Turn the light off again, will ya?' Michael was obviously confused, but did as Joey had asked. Once the light was out again, he came and sat on the edge of the bed, watching Joey in silence for a moment in the candlelight, until Joey spoke. 'What are we gonna to do tonight, Brain?'

Michael smiled. 'Same thing we do every night, Pinky.' He placed a hand on Joey's leg, felt it twitch under him, as though repulsed by his touch, and he pulled away. 'What's wrong, Joey?'

'Nothing's wrong. Forget it. I don't want to talk about it.' He could already feel the lump in his throat, the tears searing behind his eyes. He shook his head. 'I'm okay; I'll be okay. Just a headache, is all.' He rubbed his fingers at his temples for effect, hoped Michael would stop asking questions, hoped Michael would not see the pain in his face, hoped... But it was too late, the tears were leaking again. His shoulders shook with his cries as he looked up at Michael.

'Joey, what is it? Something I've done?' He crept closer on the bed and placed his hand back on Joey's leg, comfortingly this time, not lustfully.

Joey bit on his lips and squinted tears from his eyes. 'Hug me,' he said quietly, almost a whisper. He threw his guitar aside and reached his arms out for Michael's tender embrace. Michael came to him and took him, held him for what seemed like an eternity, soothing him and rocking him and simply being there for him, not saying a word, knowing he didn't need to. Joey sighed deeply, tears dripping onto Michael's shirt, and finally pulled away from him after several minutes of silent crying.

Taking Joey's hands in his own, Michael asked, 'You gonna tell me what's up, now?' He smiled at him, reassuringly, and waited.

Joey smiled back, wiped tears from his cheeks with his shirt sleeves, and said, 'I don't know. Have you ever felt like you just had to cry and that you couldn't stop? Felt like... I don't know... just enormously sad.'

'Depressed? Yeah, sure. I get depressed all the time. Sometimes I'm depressed for days, maybe weeks,' said Michael.

'No,' Joey told him. 'Not depressed. It goes way deeper than that. I can't explain it. Sometimes I feel like no one understands, you know?'

'I don't understand,' Michael said, laughing.

Joey smiled lamely. It wasn't funny. Perhaps they weren't right together. Maybe he had grown up too fast and left Michael behind, left him standing in a supermarket aisle with no money and the knowledge that he had just missed the bus he should have been on. But looking across at him, at those startlingly bright green eyes, he knew he never wanted to lose Michael, never wanted to leave him behind. 'I-' he began, then stopped, then started again. 'I- I think I... I love you, Michael. But don't say anything. I know you probably don't feel the same way, but I just had to tell you. It was cutting me up inside, making me feel like I was going to explode if I didn't tell someone. I'd shout it from the rooftops if I thought it would make a difference. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you.'

When he looked up again, Michael was smiling. 'You know, I've been wanting to say that to you for months,' Michael said, and when Joey heard this he let out a sigh of relief.

He tugged Michael close to him again and hugged him, whispering into his ear, 'I love you. I love you so much.' He kissed the soft flesh under Michael's ear and held him tighter. 'I love you,' he repeated. 'I love you.' And the tears started again, tears of joy, of happiness, of love. Everything would be okay, right? Everything was going to be fine.

Michael moved his head so that he could kiss Joey on the lips. Their kiss was soft, passionate without being lustful, longing without being all-consuming. He smiled. 'I love you too. You know, I never thought I'd ever say that to someone. But you... you're special. I want to love you forever.' They kissed again. Yes, Joey thought. Everything would be okay.

Sliding down the bed so he was lying prostrate, Joey pulled Michael down to him and he lay over Joey, their lips locked in passion, tongues exploring previously charted territory, pressing and pushing at each other, sliding over each other and curling into each other's mouths. Joey hooked his leg around one of Michael's and rolled over so that he was on top, and they continued to kiss, ravenously now. Joey could feel Michael's package pressing against his groin and smiled. Lust was every much a part of a relationship as love was, but for Joey, he thought it impossible to have one without the other. Now that he was sure Michael reciprocated his love, they could get on with 'other things'. He smiled again, and even laughed. 'I love you,' he said again, almost sounding it out in his mouth.

Michael smiled. 'Shut up and kiss me!' And he did.

Joey's own package was growing now, pressing back at Michael, and they began to grind their groins together, rubbing their cocks against each other through the fabric of their pants. Joey tugged at Michael's shirt, pulled it over his head and threw it to one side, admiring his frien... boyfriend's chest and torso. With a gentle and loving touch, he reached down and caressed Michael's pecs, pinching erect nipples and running fingertips down his sensitive sides, all-the-while pushing his lower regions against Michael, knowing that if he didn't stop soon he would cream his boxers. But he didn't really care, it felt so good. He bent down and cupped his lips around one of his pink nipples, tonguing it, making Michael moan with excitement. And then he moved lower, kissing nerves that Michael didn't know he had, kissing the slight dent that suggested the end of his breast bone, kissing his firm stomach, his small belly-button, licking at it and listening as Michael's breathing quickened in expectation.

He fumbled for only a split second before managing to pop the button on Michael's pants, and with his teeth he pulled at the zip till it was down. Peeling back the flaps of his pants, he stared at his prize - Michael's cock, covered by cotton boxers, pulsing under Joey's hot breathe. He tongued the boxers and felt the fiery heat that radiated from the throbbing meat; he nibbled the shaft through the cloth and felt it swell ten-fold; he encompassed the head and sucked at it, tasting the slight pre-cum that soaked into the boxers. And then he pulled at Michael's underwear and the boy's pulsating penis was set free, released from bounds, only to be engulfed in soft, warm, moist confines, to be sucked at and tugged at and tongued, to be taken, to be loved.

Michael moaned, his breathing short as he fast approached orgasm. He had not had release, had not 'pleasured' himself for nearly three whole days, since the last time he had seen Joey. And now, it was coming all to easily. He thrust his hard dick forward, into Joey's mouth as Joey went down on him, and pulled back and thrust again and pulled back and...

'Ungh... Yeah, oh yeah... Joey... Oh Joey... Ahh-uhhh... Yeah, yeah, yeah.' His voice was muffled as he tied not to cry out, tried not to alert Joey's mom to suspicion, though it was likely she already suspected. His hands held onto Joey's head, fingers pushing through his long brown hair, and he forced himself into his mouth, his cockhead reaching Joey's throat. He forced. He pushed. He pulled. He thrust. And it happened. He exploded. Cum gushing forth. Cum hitting the roof of Joey's mouth. Joey gagging. Michael moaning. Joey swallowing. Michael moaning louder. And when he relaxed, Joey pulled back, sweet salty sperm oozing from the corner of his mouth, and he smiled at Michael, smiled into his eyes, into his soul. 'Ahhhh,' Michael sighed. 'I love you.'

'Ditto,' Joey grinned.

'Gee, I hadn't guessed!' Michael sarcastically replied and Joey moved back up the bed to kiss him again. As they kissed, Michael roamed his hands over Joey's back, under his shirt, and then pulled it off, saying, 'Strip. I want you to strip for me.' When Joey laughed, Michael added, 'No, I mean it. Go on. Strip. Take it all off and let's see if we can "cum" up with something to do.'

Joey stood. He pushed his hair back from his face and began to strip. First kicking his sneakers off, then tugging at his socks, and then he undid the button on his pants and turned around as Michael began a strip-tune whistle. He lowered his pants and boxers slightly at the back, revealing just the tip of his ass crack. 'See anything you like?' he said, flashing his entire ass and then pulling his pants up again. He turned back, facing Michael, and let his pants fall to his ankles, his cock protruding through the slit in his boxers, throbbing, aching. He kicked the pants off.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed and silently beckoned Joey over with a curling finger. He grinned as Joey walked towards him and an instant later he had Joey's penis in his mouth, tasting the flesh, tasting his lover. Joey sighed. Once again Michael was making him feel like he was in Heaven. He had only one word to describe these feelings Michael gave him: exquisite - a word he had heard his mom use in a mocking tone about the taste of some wine she had bought. Exquisite, that was all. No other word came close. Simply exquisite.

But then Michael stopped sucking, stopped pulling on his dick with hot lips, and said, 'Do me again, like you did last week. Fuck me.'

This was only their second time at trying this. They say you never forget your first, that it's always the best, but Joey hoped that his second and third and forth and... hoped they'd all be the best. He wanted to savor every moment with Michael, wanted to milk every last drop of love and emotion from him. Joey nodded and got the Vaseline and Michael dropped his pants and 'assumed the position'. He climbed back onto the bed and lay on his stomach, ass in the air, waiting.

Joey, hard-on raging out of his boxers, massaged the Vaseline into himself, then poked a finger at Michael's puckered rosebud, tickling, teasing, and he pushed forward, his finger, greased in Vaseline, slid in nice and easy, slid in to the hilt, the walls of Michael's ass clamping around him. He pushed and twisted the finger, making sure Michael's ass was slick, and then withdrew, dropping his boxers and climbing up to meet Michael on the bed.

He inched forward, slowly at first, his swollen head easing in, and paused to let Michael become accustomed to the penetration, to the stuffed feeling he knew this created. Moments later he pushed forward again, watching as his dick was swallowed by the hungry anus, watching it consume him, watching himself disappear into his boyfriend, disappear into ecstasy itself. And he paused again, leaning forward onto Michael's back, their skin feeling warm against each other, and he gripped Michael's shoulders, said, 'I love you,' again, and started to pull back, his skin moving against him, Michael's ass grasping his rod, squeezing it, clenching it, withholding it from release, like a guilty burglar withholding evidence.

Michael clamped down on his lips so as not to make a sound, and Joey pushed back in, then extracted himself almost fully before easing in once more. 'Oh yeah. That feels great,' he breathed. He pumped harder, faster, more forceful, needing to cum, needing to cum up Michael's ass, needing to cum into Michael and feel that moment of intense pleasure that accompanies an orgasm, especially an orgasm that involves Michael.

He pumped so hard that his balls slapped against Michael's, that his pubic hair brushed Michael's ass cheeks, that his legs smacked Michael's thighs... And then it happened - he exploded cum from his cock, erupting into Michael's ass, shooting forward like a juggernaut. The pain and pleasure was intense, erratic, heavenly.

And they both collapsed on the bed, panting heavily, Joey's limp dick slipping out of Michael. He smiled at Michael's loving eyes as the boy looked up over his shoulder. 'Thanks,' Joey said and kissed Michael's neck softly. 'Thanks. I love you.'

* * *



'Camp. You know - where you go away from your parents and sleep in a tent and tell ghost stories and stuff! Camp.'

'I can't go to camp,' Joey said. They were walking through a park, both stuffing Crackerjacks into their mouths, both walking abreast, close enough to feel the connection between them, yet far enough from each other not to arouse suspicion. 'I've got filming. Besides, sleeping on the cold, horrid, wet ground sucks!'

'Well that's what a ground-sheet is for, dummy!' Michael laughed, then added in a softer voice, 'Come on, you've got to come. My parents are forcing me to go. It's six weeks. Six weeks without you will be hell!' He cautiously reached out and brushed a hand over Joey's arm, quickly, so no one would see.

Joey shook his head, smiling. 'I know it'll be hell, but I really can't take six weeks off shooting, not now. We've nearly finished this series.' He pushed his brown hair back from his face and pushed another crackerjack into his mouth. 'Do you have to go? I mean, can't you fake illness or something? Please?' They walked round the winding path and were momentarily shielded from the rest of the park. Joey leaned in and stole a kiss.

'I've already tried to fake illness,' Michael said when Joey let him breathe again. 'Didn't work. It's not fair. Wish I didn't have to go.'

'Ditto,' Joey told him. 'And when you're away, don't go sucking anyone else's dick or I'll never forgive you!'

'Oh, I don't know,' Michael smiled as they came back into view of the park and the pond and that elderly couple that was sat on the bench, 'I thought maybe one of the camp leaders or something...'

'Hey!' Joey exclaimed and reached out to him, wrapping an arm tightly around his neck and wrestling him to the neatly trimmed grass. Both were giggling like the teenagers they were! 'Take that back or I'll kill you. Take it back!'

The old couple by the duck pond looked over, huddling close to each other, and smiled at the antics of the boys. Joey wasn't sure but he thought the woman said, 'Boys will be boys.' then he turned his attention back to Michael who was complaining of suffocating - his face was pressed firmly against Joey's side.

'Joey! Let me up!' he mumbled through cotton.

'Take it back first!' Joey said, managing to grope at Michael's crotch, noticing the beginnings of an erection. Michael took it back; Joey let him up, but pushed him back to the grass for good measure. 'Yeah! Do it with someone else, will you? In your dreams!'

Michael looked up, sullenly. 'My dreams are yours. You know that.' Joey quieted. Michael had just this morning told Joey about a dream he had had. Said it was weird. They were on a bus and Joey was dressed in a tux, Michael in a girl's dress. Everyone was laughing at him but Joey stuck up for him, put up a fight, told everyone to get a life, and then they left the bus and he woke. It had scared him. He may like other boys - Joey in particular - but he was certainly no poof! Didn't get off on wearing girl's clothes. Joey had told him not to worry, that dreams mean nothing, then added, jokingly, 'But you might look good in a -' He had not finished the sentence; Michael was obviously distressed.

Joey looked at his watch and once again pushed his hair back from his face. 'Gotta go. Dinner. But I'll call you later, k?'

'Sure,' Michael said, not rising from his seated position on the grass. 'I'll see you later.'

Joey looked across at the couple by the pond, then around to see if anyone was watching them, and he blew Michael a kiss. 'Love you.' Then he took off home.

Strange. His life was definitely still strange. But it was a good kind of strange. Finally he had got to tell Michael he loved him, and Michael, to Joey's surprise, had reciprocated that love. No, Joey thought, perhaps strange isn't the word. Perfect. Yes, perfect. He made it home in time for dinner, and later in bed, his thoughts drifted onto Michael and he reached under the blankets to feel himself, to 'spank his monkey', fingers of one hand wrapped tightly around his shaft, the fingers of the other hand running over his balls and between his legs to his crack. He thought of Michael's warm lips pressed against his own, thought of them kissing his chest and smothering his meat, and he came over his stomach and almost hit his chin.

* * *

Joey asked, 'Ever wondered where your heart is?' When Michael looked up from Joey's chest where he had been resting his head, with a confused look on his face, Joey added, 'I mean, not the little beating thing behind your ribcage, not the flesh. The Heart. The... I don't know, the heart as in your love, your thoughts, your... everything. Ever?'

Michael shrugged. 'Guess not, I suppose,' he said, kissing one of Joey's nipples and running a hand over his smooth stomach.

'Hmm,' Joey mused. 'I mean, obviously my heart is with you, right?' Michael blushed. He loved Joey very much. 'But I reckon my heart has multi-layers or something. I'm not saying I love anyone else, but I'm saying... I don't know. It's hard to explain. I guess I'm a bit of a romantic in a sense, y'know? I wanna be wined and dined, loved, you know?'

'Yeah,' Michael replied, 'I know what you mean. And I'd like to wine you and dine you, and 69 you,' he added, pushing his hand in between Joey's legs, 'but I ain't got the money. As for the love bit, you already know who loves you, I hope,' he said, smiling.

'Who?' Joey said, jokingly. 'Mom? Yeah, she loves me. Dad loves me too. Is there anyone else?'

'Hey!' Michael exclaimed, climbing up the bed so as to be on the same level as Joey. 'Course there's someone else!!!'

Joey looked thoughtful. 'Um, I can't think of anyone...' When Michael digged him in the ribs, Joey admitted it. 'Okay, okay... there's my gran, too!'

Michael frowned. 'What have I gotta do to make you see who else loves you?'

'Oh, I don't know... kiss me?'

And Michael smiled. He leaned in and brushed his lips lightly over Joey's, then pressed a little harder, smelling Joey's cologne, smelling fresh body-smells. He pushed his tongue in, was accepted by Joey warmly, and he pressed harder, his hand running the length of Joey's torso, chest, touching his soft neck, moving through his thick hair. When he broke the kiss, he said, 'I love you. D'you know that now?'

Joey smiled. 'Yeah,' giving an angel peck on Michael's half-parted lips, 'I know that.'

'Don't ever forget that, okay? I mean it. I'll love you into eternity, passed eternity. I don't want our love to fail. If it fails,' he said, in a grown-up tone, 'I'll fail.' There were tears in his eyes, daring him to let them run free. He tried not to let them.

Seeing this, Joey too was brought to the brink of crying. 'It won't fail. I'll make sure of that. It won't ever fail; we'll love each other to the ends of time, right? I'll love you for always.'

Michael nodded, a single tear escaping his eyes. A sigh. 'Love you.' And they kissed again, longingly, lovingly.

I will love you for always...

Michael raised himself so he was positioned over the top of Joey. Joey was smiling as they kissed, his lips stretched into a wide grin, making it hard for him to kiss right. He ran his hands down Michael's back, tracing his spine, and onto his naked buttocks, soft, plump, warm flesh, a peach-fuzz coating. He pushed his fingers into the warm crack, pushed down, felt the hot rosebud anus, puckering up, begging for love.

'Hey,' Joey said, 'you just said you'd 69 me.' It was a statement, not a question. Michael nodded and turned around. As they were both already naked, neither had to remove any clothing, and so the fun just began. Michael molded his mouth around Joey's erect penis, slurping on it, sucking on it, loving it. Joey moaned, smiled even wider, and consumed Michael's dick, lapped at his shaft and his balls and kissing his inner thighs, pulling on the dick with his lips and his teeth, feeling the throbbing meat twitch in his mouth, twitch against his tongue, twitch against the pressure he applied. He drew his mouth back off it and licked at Michael's head, tongued his cum-slit, nibbled the uncut foreskin of that nice cock that danced in front of him like a hypnotic snake in a basket, luring him into a security, a lasting hold. And then he took it again, took it deep into his mouth, deep so he could almost touch his balls as well, deep so that Michael's sprinkling of blond pubes tickled his lips. And at the same time he thrust his groin forward into Michael's mouth, thrust and pulled and pushed as Michael sucked and slurped, sucked and slurped.

With his left hand exploring Michael's thighs and testicles, he drew his right hand back to Michael's buttocks and squeezed them and molded them and fashioned them, pushing a finger back into his crack, and slowly into his anus, pushing the finger deep inside of his lover, deep into his soul. 'I love you,' he said yet again, around a mouthful of cock, his moist, full lips curling around the shaft and pleasuring it the best way lips could.

Michael licked Joey's balls and nibbled at his thighs, Joey's highly erogenous zones, and kissed softly the flesh covered in the downy fluff of puberty, and then he returned his full attention to Joey's dick, taking it in his mouth and working his tongue over it, tasting every last millimeter of it, every last pore. He sucked like on a popsicle, like he was milking it, and when Joey came into his mouth, Michael gulped ravenously at the hot, sweet cum, lapping it all up, devouring it all, wanting to have a part of Joseph Gordon-Levitt in him forever.

From outside was the sound of a car horn. 'Shit,' Michael breathed. 'It's- Dad...' and then he propelled his middle region forward and shot into Joey, shot harder than he believed he was going to.

Joey sighed upon ingesting all of Michael's sweet fruits, and once again said, 'I love you, Michael.' Then they hurriedly got dressed and they went downstairs.

Michael's dad, Mr Hunter, was standing in the hallway, chatting with Joey's mom when they came down. 'Hey, Michael. Hello Joey. What have you two been up to, tonight?'

'About five feet,' Michael quipped.

'Not much,' Joey said. 'Just hanging.' But both of the boys knew that 'hanging' wasn't quite what Joey had meant!

'Okay,' Mr Hunter said. 'Time to go, Mikey. Ready?'

'Yeah,' Michael said. 'And quit calling me that.'

Mr Hunter laughed and said good-bye to Joey's mom. They walked out into the street and Joey accompanied them. This was going to be the last time he saw Michael for the next six weeks. It was understandably upsetting, but he was comforted by the knowledge that no matter what, they would always be together. 'I'll see you soon,' he said to Michael, offering the briefest of touches as Michael's dad slid into the car. Michael smiled and mouthed, I love you, then got into the car and drew his seatbelt on.

Joey watched the car as it started up and turned in the street, driving back down the way it had come. He watched as Michael's long face stared at him from the side window. He watched as -

- As a car came out of nowhere, shunting Michael's dad's car to the side, plowing through it, turning the car over and over and over on the ground. The sound of screams, of smashing glass, of crumpling metal upon metal. And Joey dropped to his knees, shouting, 'No-o-o-o!'

End of Part 3. Find out what happens in part 4 soon...