Nevermore!
by and © Henry Higgins
Chapter 8, Brave New World
I bounded into my room and threw on underwear, some chinos, a contrasting turtleneck, and loafers. I felt like running back down the hall, but thought better of it and made myself walk.
"Okay, sport; you ready?" I asked.
Kenny nodded.
I continued, "I think we better hit the department store first so that you'll look decent when we go to the blood lab."
He grinned. "What? You don't like MY clown suit, Bozo? It's made me a lotta money, y'know." His knowing smirk almost smoked with scorn.
"Oh, yeah. I guess it pulled me in, didn't it? But then you coulda been wearing anything and you woulda caught me!" I grinned. He did, too. I was elated. This just... might... work!
Out into the garage and into the car - seat belts on - I hit the button and the garage door opened. Starting the engine, I backed out into the street as the door closed automatically.
"Hey! That's neat. I don't remember that from last night." Kenny seemed amazed at the smallest things that I just took for granted.
"Yeah, well, I'm surprised you remember anything at all from last night. You were in pretty bad shape, but it looks like old Dr. Rog fixed you up with some strong medicine, 'cuz look at you now!" I said.
"Yeah, I feel fine!"
"You look pretty good, too. I think it might have been just a 24-hour bug that you picked up somewhere," I said.
"I remember bein' so cold! I do remember that. And then, when we got in your car and it started to warm up, I guess I've been warm ever since."
"Rog thought you might have had the start of a case of hypothermia along with the bug. You know what that is?" I asked.
"No. Hypothermia? I've never heard of it," he said.
"If you're out in cold weather and you don't have enough clothing to maintain your body heat, you start to get cold. If you're cold for a long time, then your core body temperature starts to fall. You start shivering and get confused and disoriented. Yesterday, you were mumbling something about your puppy just after you threw up. Then later, you were worried about your belt - said you had to find your belt. But, it was right on you all the time."
"Wow! I musta really been out of it. And, I don't even have a dog!" Kenny sounded amazed.
"Right you are! At first, I didn't know whether you were on drugs, or sick, or what. Only after Rog saw you and diagnosed it as hypothermia did I know for sure."
"I ain't doing drugs no more," the boy said.
"I'm sure glad to hear that, Kenny. When was the last time you did any?"
"Prob'ly about six months ago. One of the other kids that hustles at the mall had some and let me try some."
"What did you think about it?" I asked.
"Oh, I got a nice buzz outa the pills, but I didn't like the way I felt so tired when I got up the next morning - real groggy, like, and my head hurt. So the next time he saw me and asked if I wanted to buy some, I said no."
"You were very lucky, Kenny," I said.
"Why?"
"Sometimes people start on those damn things and they get so hooked on them they can't stop using them. Then, they have to have more and more. It's kinda like your old man and the booze. He's addicted to alcohol the way some people get addicted to drugs."
"Oh."
I could almost hear his mental gears grinding, again. "That's why it's so important for you to tell me if you ever have a strong feeling that you need to take some. It's so much easier just never to start using them than to have to give them up after you're hooked. I want to be able to help you say no if you ever feel the need." I said.
"So, did you ever use drugs?" he asked.
"I had a chance to in prison. But luckily, I said no. Otherwise, I might still be in that hellhole. I heard of a couple of guys who were using and they got busted. They had their sentences extended."
We pulled into the Bambles parking lot. I locked the car, set the alarm, and we headed for the entrance.
"Bambles? I've never been here." Kenny said. "When I buy stuff, I usually go to K-Mart - or the Salvation Army."
"K-Mart has good things," I replied. "But I like to get my pants and shirts at Bambles. I think they look better."
"Oh." The boy grew silent.
I wondered if anything was wrong and was about to ask when I decided not to. Maybe Kenny just needed some space. Sooner or later, I thought, I'd find out. As we entered the store, Kenny's tension grew noticeably. I became even more concerned.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Um... yeah," he said. "Why?"
"You seem so quiet and tense," I observed.
"Oh. Well... I guess I'm just not used to this place."
Well, of course! It hadn't occurred to me that he'd feel awkward and out of place at a store like Bambles. "We don't have to stay," I offered, "If you'd be more comfortable, we can go somewhere else."
Kenny answered quickly, "No. That's okay, Jim. You like it here, so it's okay with me."
By then my radar was up, but I wasn't sure what to do. I hoped he'd get used to the place and settle down soon, thinking it was more the unfamiliarity of the place. Then it occurred to me that he was still dressed in his hustling "uniform." Maybe that was it; if so, we'd have that fixed soon enough.
As we approached the Young Men's Department, another boy recognized Kenny and waved. "Hey, Kenny! How are ya? What're you doing here? I thought you usually shopped the second-hand stores."
The color drained from Kenny's face as he said, "Oh, hi, Dave. Yeah. Well, I was just here with my friend Jim, here. He needed t' pick up some pants."
"Oh." Dave smiled, "That's cool. We wouldn't want t' see you gettin' outa character, would we?"
Kenny turned and headed for the Men's Department, just across the aisle. I could only follow. When we were well away from Dave, he turned to me with a pained expression. "Jim," he pled, "We gotta get outa here. I'm sorry... I'm fuckin' things up again, but I gotta go!"
"Sure, Kenny. Whatever you say," I said. "But what about getting you some clothes?"
The boy stammered, "I... I don't... J-Jim, I just can't, like, talk about it here. I've just gotta get outa here... now!" His eyes were filling up and he looked totally abject.
I still didn't completely understand his urgency, but I thought it probably had something to do with his seeing Dave and I could feel the strength of his need. "Sure, Kenny," I answered. "Let's use the other door in the store so we don't have to go past Dave again."
The desperate look in his eyes softened just a little. "Okay, Jim. Thanks. You're the best!"
Back in the car, I started the engine to get the heater going, but then left the car idling as I turned to Kenny, who now couldn't hold back his tears. I pulled him in close to me.
"Why am I such a... damned f-fuckup? All I ever do is make sh-shit outa things!"
"Kenny, you didn't fuck things up. I don't know exactly what's wrong, but believe me - I don't think you fucked things up. Can you tell me what upset you?"
He clung to me even more tightly. "I... I'm just a shitty little son of a drunk. Everybody at school knows that. I know that. All I ever had to wear was somebody else's clothes they didn't want any more. Lately, I've been able to find some stuff at Salvation Army, or maybe K-Mart. If I started showing up at school in Bamble's clothes everybody'd wonder who my new sugar-daddy is."
"They know what you do? With men, I mean."
"I guess some of 'em have figured it out and others that know about the beehive and go there have probably told others. Oh - and one time after school in th' showers, Scotty Smith said he'd gimme five t' go down on him. I was busted, so I said yeah. He may have spread the word. It's not like people beat up on me or anything - not even the rednecks or th' jocks. It's more like they pity me. I hate that! Jim, why can't it be simpler? Everything's always so damned complicated and I never help any 'cause I just fuck things up even more. That's why I stay by myself a lot. Well, except for this one kid. He... uh, you know, like... he does what I do... for money and stuff. We hang together a lot. The other kids just kinda leave us alone."
All I could say was, "Oh, Kenny..." and hold him close to me. He had stopped crying, but an occasional sniffle still interrupted him. And, he stayed close.
"I never told this t' anybody, Jim - not even the kid I hang with. It's like nobody would understand."
"Not even your friend?" I asked.
"Oh I guess I could talk about it with him. I just never seem to think about it when we're together. But you - it's like you know how I feel and what to do and all. I just feel so good being with you. I'm not even sure that Rusty'd understand if I tried to talk about it to him."
As Kenny's sniffling subsided, I ventured, "Well, dude... What are we going to do about clothing for you? You still need some. I'm okay with going to Salvation Army, or wherever else you want to go. I could even take you home if you want. I really should have asked you to begin with, Kenny. I'm sorry."
He smiled. "Wait a minute. I thought I was the fuckup. But, yeah. I guess I'd rather go to a store than risk a run-in with my bastard old man. Let's go to th' Salvation Army."
I grinned. "Okay, dude. You got it!"
We fastened our seat belts and I put the car into gear to head towards the Salvation Army store. Once there, it took only a few minutes to find him a couple of pair of cargo pants like the worn-out pair he had on. He looked through the T-shirt selection and picked one for his favorite band, another for an old movie, and another that had the inscription, "Gravity. Not just a good idea; it's the law!" He grinned.
"Get it? The law of gravity! We studied that in science last week."
"Yeah, Doofus, I get it." I grinned back as he came over to punch me playfully. I not only took it, I relished it. "Now we need to get you a winter jacket."
"I usually just wear a sweatshirt with a hood," Kenny said.
"Yeah... like the one you nearly froze to death in yesterday?" I asked.
"Well, yeah. That one IS gettin' kinda old," he admitted.
"That's putting it mildly," I huffed. "What I'm thinking about is something like a denim jacket that you could wear over your sweatshirt. So you could still wear a sweatshirt, but you'd also have something to break the wind."
"Yeah, I get it. Okay, let's find one!" Kenny said and we headed for the coat section.
As it turned out, Salvation Army didn't have a jacket like we had discussed. Even worse, they didn't have anything that would fit Kenny. So I suggested that we could get that at K-Mart. He agreed.
When we paid for the clothing, I was amazed at how little it cost. But then, we were at the Salvation Army. Hmm, I thought; maybe I should start shopping there, too. At K-Mart, I insisted that Kenny get a six-pack each of under shorts, T-shirts, and athletic socks. I would have been happier to see him get two packs of each, but then figured that I could sneak some more in on him when found out what size he wore. Next, we found a jacket for him that had denim on the outside and a thick acrylic "lambs wool" type of lining. Our last stop was the shoe department, where Kenny found a new pair of cross-trainers. I put our K-Mart purchases on plastic and then we were on our way.
"Okay, guy. Next, we take you to see the vampire."
Kenny began to lighten up. "I vant to suck your blood!" he hooted as he pulled his upper lip back into a mock-vampire position. Then he made for my neck and ever so gently kissed it so that little trills of tickle radiated from his touch. He gave me that intense look of his and I felt totally and wonderfully possessed.
I suggested that he change into a new pair of pants and one of his new shirts, which he did without a hitch. He chose the black "gravity" shirt to top the neutral cargo pants. If I hadn't been driving, I could not have taken my eyes off him. Even so, I got a glance at his perfect package and felt a flutter in my own. However, that's where it stayed; our next stop was the medical lab.
We parked the car in front of an outpatient surgical center, where the lab was located - across from the local shopping mall. I could tell from the way Kenny looked around that he'd never spent much time in one of these places - if any at all.
"First, we've gotta sign in," I said. "Then we wait until they call your name." The boy just nodded and followed me. At the intake desk, I handed the woman the referral that Rog had given me. She asked for Kenny's address and phone number. He looked at me, uncertain what to say.
I quickly realized that he needed some guidance here - and, that I didn't know his address or phone number without looking it up. So I said, "That's okay, son, you can give her our address and phone number." I grinned. "If you haven't learned it by now in fifteen years of living there, I'd be surprised."
Kenny got my point and gave the lady his home address and telephone number. I realized there was little chance they would call. If they did, then his drunken father could become his drunken grandfather. We found seats in the waiting area.
Once seated, it seemed that Kenny couldn't stop talking. "Jim, from the first time I saw you I knew you'd be this way - that you'd help me through all this confusing stuff. I always wished for this."
"And when was the first time you saw me?" I asked.
"Oh, prob'ly a few weeks ago. It was while it was still light out later at night and I was hangin' around the beehive late that night. That's when I first saw you."
"You call it the beehive," I observed.
"Yeah. 'Cuz it's always so busy. Right after school, a few juniors and seniors come over to get blown. There's usually a freshman or sophomore in there to take care of 'em. Sometimes I join them; sometimes I don't. There's usually not a lot of older guys around then 'cuz they're still at work. Most of the high school guys don't like men to hit on them - even the younger ones that are doing the blowing don't like that. I guess I was lucky that I learned how nice it could be with older guys. For one thing they pay you a lot more than the upper-classmen. Most of those guys want it for free, even if they can afford to pay."
"So when would you meet your pickups?" I asked.
"Mostly between five and six. By that time all the school kids have gotten off and gone home. Then there's a group of guys that come around five-thirty or six, like they're on their way home from work. None of them are sleaze balls and some of them are so fuggin' hot! They're usually happy to slip me a five or a ten. If I go there three days a week, I can usually pick up enough money to get through the week. It's all I need to be able to get stuff like food for the house, and take care of getting my own stuff. I've gotten to know most of the guys I blow, so I trust them."
"I guess I would come in a little later," I said.
"Yeah. When I saw you, I was leaving and you were just coming up from the parking lot."
The loudspeaker called, "Kenneth Davis, go to Room 3."
"That's you." I got up with Kenny and pointed him in the general direction of the lab rooms. He stayed so close to me that I could sense his concern, even with my explanation of the procedure earlier that day. I put a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be okay, guy. This is gonna be a walk in the park." Kenny didn't answer but continued to stay close. I think if he could have blended into me, he'd have done just that.
"Well, hello there! Let's see... You must be Kenneth and you would be... Mr. Davis? I'm Martha." A plump lady greeted us at the door to Room 3 and gave us a huge grin. I grinned back and didn't bother to correct her about my name.
Kenny's face was taut, as he stood so close that he touched me. The phlebotomist glanced at us and seemed to realize the situation immediately. "Well, you've come to the right place to get your blood work, Kenny, because in here it doesn't hurt!" She gave him another million-dollar smile.
"That's good," said Kenny, "'cause I'm not too used to getting a blood test."
"I know, honey. I get kids all the time. Some of 'em, it's their first blood test. But you know what? They come in here and they can't believe how quickly we get finished and they don't feel a thing!"
Kenny gave her his lopsided grin.
"Now you just hang your jacket on the hook over there and then sit down over here and roll up your sleeves."
Martha looked at Kenny's arms and pressed on the soft, inner crease of each elbow. "Look here, Kenny. See how we're getting a blood vessel to come up in your right arm? Can you make a fist with your right hand? Clench it and then let it go about ten times, okay?" As she spoke, she put a rubber tube around his upper arm.
"Okay, honey. You can relax your hand now. See the blood vessel?"
Kenny nodded. "Yeah, kinda..."
Martha took the syringe in her right hand as she used the first two fingers of her left hand to stretch the skin where she would insert the needle. "Now Kenny, I'm gonna stretch the skin where I'll put the needle in. That way, if you feel anything at all, it'll only be a little pinprick."
Kenny watched what Martha was doing as she explained it to him.
"There. It's in. Did you feel anything?"
"Wow! I didn't feel it at all!" he exclaimed. "How about that, Jim? It wasn't even a pinprick."
"I guess Martha has had lots of practice," I observed, as she gave me a knowing nod.
Martha was filling and then replacing little vials with Kenny's blood. When the last one was filled, she held a cotton ball over the insertion point and withdrew the needle. Just as smoothly, she applied a piece of tape to hold the cotton ball in place. "You're done, honey."
Kenny gave her a big grin. "Gee, thanks Martha. If I ever have to come back for another blood test, I hope you get to do it. You're great!"
I was beaming, too, as I thanked Martha for her concern.
"That's no problem, Mr. Davis. I'm glad to see you doing the right thing. Kenny, you come back to see me anytime, honey."
I wondered at the woman's statement and then realized that she knew she'd been drawing blood for an STD panel. Well, I guess Kenny wasn't the first or last teen to go there for that.
As we walked down the hall to the parking lot, Kenny grabbed my hand. "Gee, Mr. Davis, I sure appreciate you bringing me for my blood test," grinning widely at me.
"Oh. Just anything you need, honey." We were kidding, but I could sense how relieved Kenny felt - as if he'd passed another hurdle.
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