Date: Mon, 26 Mar 2007 12:10:14 -0700 (PDT) From: Matt Wess Subject: Michael: Part Five Michael stopped, and watched Adam lighting a cigarette. He struck the match slowly, and lit-up with care, so that the cigarette, now that Adam had set his mind to lighting it, didn't stand a chance. It was a slow operation, like making it through a Monday filled with school. He threw the match down and looked up before continuing his journey. "What do you say," Adam said, as the three of them descended down the front steps of the school. "We should go find Professor Gordis's car and trash it." Macy blinked against the smoke. "Are you still stuck on that? What good will trashing his car do? Get you a better grade? And you know there is no tobacco products allowed on school grounds." "It's called projection," Adam said indignantly, ignoring her last comment. "I have hatred for the man so I go a project my hatred on his car, instead of him, but if he's in the car while I'm doing it then that's just an added bonus." "He probably takes a bus from the old-folks home," Michael offered slyly and even Macy got a laugh out of that. "Much good it will do trashing a bus filled with old people." The elated feeling that was spreading through their bodies quickly evaporated. All three of them stopped in their tracks. They saw a police officer coming down the yard, walking with an authority motion, heading in their direction. The man took three calculated strides towards them. Most of the focus was on Adam, standing mutely in between Michael and Macy. "Toss it out!" Michael said, softening before the display of an authority figure approaching them quickly, but it was too late. Before the cigarette even found the underside of Adam's foot the policeman was standing before them looking at them suspiciously. Michael considered casually dodging the officer as though he had not noticed him, but that man was the size of Carlos and saying that you didn't see him is like saying you didn't see an elephant. "Well," said the officer, waiting for an explanation. When an explanation never came he signaled to the sign that was within two feet of them. It was a picture of a cigarette with an X through it. Michael's stomach sunk for Adam. "No smoking on school grounds. I think that's something everyone can learn." "Officer," Macy said, slowly. "I don't really think you should hold it against him. I mean we're practically off of school grounds already. Also, the student hand book says that a warning comes first. . ." her voice drifted off as Adam held up his hand to stop her. "This is my third warning," he said in a defeated tone. Well after that piece of evidence was revealed there was nothing much they could do. Adam merely shrugged his shoulders and followed the officer back into the school. Michael couldn't tell, but he was pretty sure that Adam had given the officer his own personal sign. A soft drizzling rain fell as Michael and Macy hurried down the sidewalk. Macy had prophesied rain and she turned out to be right. Neither one of them were easier in the mind now that Adam had his third offense. What made things ten times worse was the fact that Adam's parents did not know of his smoking habit. Michael knew that Adam's mother was a big advocate for anti-smoking after having lost her own parents to lung cancer. "Now their own son," Michael said, shaking his head. The wind bit through both of them as they took their time walking around the block. "Well, it's a nasty habit and he shouldn't do it in the first place," Macy said gravely. She shoved her hands in her pockets. "Do you think they'll call his parents?" "Adam couldn't pay them enough to not call. They get a joy out of this. Sticking their nose in personal business." At this answer Macy shook her head from side to side. Although it was midday, the light through the rain clouds was abysmal. Shafts of sunlight bled through the minimal spacing in the dense clouds. They traveled in silence, musing over the possibilities that will happen to Adam. The two of them turned the corner and saw the apartment building marking the place where Michael lived. He couldn't stand silence himself, but it wasn't everyday a close friend of his was taken in by the authorities. At the entrance to the building they bid their farewells and went their own way. Michael silently trudged up the stairs, hands in pockets, nodding absentmindedly towards his neighbor, an eighty some year old woman who lived with eighty some cats. There was once a story where all eighty cats had escaped into the apartment building and it took the whole staff nearly all day to bring each cat back. Every so often Michael would hear the soft purr while lying in bed and he would wonder what it would be like to have a pet. The door to the apartment was unlock, which was a change. Just yesterday he had come home only to find that they had purposefully locked him out. It's a cruel world, Michael thought, but only for the second that you weaken. Rosa and Aunt Maude were sitting around the kitchen table conversing about some lady being pregnant with twins. The conversation really did not interest Michael to any degree, and even if it had he probably wouldn't bother to sit down with them and try to have a decent chat. He said his brief hello, answered their question about how school was, agreed that his scar was looking better, and then took off for his room, biting into an apple. He lay down on his bed, eating the apple pensively, while gazing up at the ceiling. He thought more about Adam and the trouble that was on the horizon, he thought about graduation, and by the time his mind reached Dylan he had already placed his apple aside. His hands moved quickly over his belt buckle, loosening it, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. For a moment or two he lay there staring at his boxer briefs and the bulge available. He remembered seeing Dylan in a similar image. Michael began to work his hands deftly through his waistband and found his now hard penis. It stuck vertically in the air, pointing towards the grooves in the ceiling. Fantasies began to corrupt his mind. Dylan and him in a hot tub in the middle of a wintry forest, both of them were wearing Speedos that showed their packages. Michael reached under the hot, steamy water and felt his way up Dylan's muscular leg until he found the sensual curves of his teenage testicles. Dylan was encouraging him as snow began to faintly fall, falling faintly around them. Michael leaned forward and planted a kiss on Dylan's lips, his chest, and then disappeared underwater where his teeth tugged at the edge of Dylan's Speedo... Suddenly at climax, Michael was yanked out of the fantasy, his body tensed, shuttered, and then relaxed as fluid gushed from the head of his penis. Then, as though nothing had happened, he zipped back up, rolled over to his side and thought about reality again. He was standing in the school yard with Macy and Adam. Just like this afternoon, and Michael was sure that any three of them would do anything to rewind that time. Adam was dragging on his usual cigarette when Professor Gordis casually drove his Ferrari across the school yard dodging students, and then at the sight of Adam, his eyes narrowed down to slits from behind his bifocals. "Make a death threat towards me, Mr. Liebowitz, I think not!" Gordis was shouting. His $250,000 car leapt to life and came careening towards the pair of them, though it was targeted directly at Adam. Vengeance was written across the face of their teacher as he floored it, the beautiful engine roaring. Michael was trying to get Adam out of the way of the car, but mental paralysis kept Adam routed there, staring open mouth at the speeding car that was within feet, inches, and then centimeters. Michael was bellowing, wishing he could stop the car, but it seemed fate was taking control. . . Michael bolted up right in bed, panting heavily. A cold, clammy sweat broke out across his forehead as he replayed his dream over and over again. The images were vivid at first, but became vaguer as the surroundings of reality came back into focus. He wasn't sure at what time he fell asleep exactly and it wasn't until later when he was scrounging through the refrigerator for dinners left over that he discovered the source that woke him up. "I attempted to wake you up for dinner," Rosa said, rinsing the last few dinner dishes, and then handed them over to Aunt Maude. It was her job to dry the dishes, and then place them delicately away. "But you told me you weren't hungry," Rosa continued. There was something about the curtness of her tone that made Michael wonder, but he didn't pursue the matter. There were a lot of things that could easily set Rosa over the edge. "I see you're hungry now." Michael nodded, as he placed a few slices of salami on rye bread, "Good observation. Now, you'll see me leaving the room." "Interestingly enough, Mrs. Liebowitz called tonight." Michael stopped short, but did not turn to face her or Aunt Maude. "She got our number from Adam, who seems to be in a heap of trouble." Michael closed his eyes slowly, taking a deep breath. He knew where this conversation was going. "I suppose she told you everything, then." "Oh, she didn't tell me anything. Carlos answered the phone and talked to her and then he relayed the information to me." She paused drastically and took the time to turn off the water. "Maude," Rosa said slowly, "did you know it's a proven fact that nicotine cancels out the user's appetite for food." He whirled around, clutching onto his plate firmly. "You have to be kidding me!" Rage was beginning to spread through his body, a familiar feeling. "I suppose you all are going to assume I'm a part of this! Just because I'm friends with him!" "The assumption is strong, Chico," Aunt Maude said in a would-be soothing tone. "Your clothes do smell and your appetite is diminishing." Michael slammed his plate down onto the dinner table, having completely lost his appetite. "Great, I'm glad that you were able to finalize for me that you jackasses are able to jump to quick conclusions." The moment it left his mouth, he wanted to take the words right back but it was too late. He knew it was a mistake to say anything more. Aunt Maude's eyes turned into dangerous black slits. "Michael Alan Douglas!" she yelled, using his full real name. "I will NOT tolerate you talking like that to either of us, especially while it's in my house. He felt the wind rushing around his hot ears. Michael jerked his head around and stormed off, knocking into Joseph, who spilt his bowl of soup that was supposed to cure his cold. "Aii-ya!" Aunt Maude cried. Luke warm soup spilt down to the already stained carpet. As people scuttled to clean up the mess, Michael took off for his room. Slamming the door behind him. He plopped face down on his bed, fuming. Every single person he lived with was naive, and he would give anything to leave them behind. Suddenly, the phone began to ring off the hook. As though the phone was screaming through the apartment. In a fleeting rush, Michael scrambled back off his bed and dashed for the phone, but by the time he got there Rosa had already snatched it up. Michael stood directly behind her, breathing down her neck, listening to the other side of the conversation. Shortly after answering, she turned to face Michael and handed him the phone. "It's Adam," she said, not bothering to hide the hint of disdain in her voice. She probably felt that he shouldn't be talking to him, but Michael didn't care. The moment he answered the phone, he could tell by the sound of Adam's voice that there was something wrong. He was breathing heavily, and it almost sounded like he was running. "Michael," he panted. "Can you meet me outside? I'm heading towards your place now." Michael agreed to meet him outside wondering what on earth was wrong now. By common consent everyone in the kitchen- Rosa, Aunt Maude, Joseph, and now Carlos came wandering in- behaved as though Michael was an escaped convict. There they stood patiently listening to his side of the conversation, ready to jump on him the moment he hung up. As it turned out only Rosa asked several questions after he hung up that pertained to the telephone conversation. Michael answered only one question-"where are you going?" He headed for the door saying curtly, "None of your business." It took Michael all of two minutes to reach the outdoors. It was dark, devoid of life, because of the heavy downpour that scared people into seeking refuge inside. He hurried down to the curve, already soaked to the skin. His shaggy hair was plastered down. Michel searched up and down the street looking for Adam. To his right a black cat prowled the streets, limping slightly. He only had brief sympathy for the injured cat. To his left, illuminated by the dull street lamp materialized the figure of Adam. Michael hurried over to greet him and noticed what was wrong right away. "Oh shit," Michael muttered at the sight of his injured friend.