In the middle of Des Plaines Illinois three boys find themselves in a tangled knot of angsty lust and amateur love.
Evan Webster has an average American life. When he isn't at swim practice or the movie theater, he's trying to make time to study bi...
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Pep rallies.
Like pepper – the supplement to salt, which reminded Danny of the saltbox homes in Kendall County. The architecture in the tiny town was similar to the homes in The Crucible. And then his mind rebounded with sin, sin, sin.
Pep rallies, pep rallies, pep rallies.
Like Pep Comics – along with Chris's obsession with Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Jughead.
Or Peptides – like Evan's unfinished science homework.
Or...Pepino The Italian Mouse – the childish song that was mentally playing inside Bones's head. He couldn't remember where he had heard it.
Or the refreshing scent of peppermint gum, which Jackson was tossing into his mouth as he sat behind Chris and Evan.
"Hey, Webby Boy," the redhead said, chewing loud enough to annoy his teammate. "What do you think would happen if you ran across the gym in your speedo?"
It wasn't a dare, but it wasn't a taunt either. It was a provoking challenge that was intended to rouse the white-haired boy into doing something stupid.
"What do you think would happen if you swallowed your own tongue?" Evan snipped, uninterested.
The quick remark made Danny tense, anticipating a retaliation from Jackson, but the only sound that came from the redhead's mouth was the pop of his gum – cocky. Fermenting with the toxic combination of seething smugness and a simmering gloat. Danny could feel Jackson's confident mood, but he relaxed once Jackson's opportunity to further goad Evan had dissipated.
Danny was sitting beside Bones, but the two of them weren't displaying their usual chthonic-like clothing. Danny's tan arms were bare because his jacket was still in Jackson's possession, and Bones had let Nadine embroider his leather pockets and sleeves with golden roses. She was practicing her needle skills in hopes of making a baby-sized coverlet.
Nadine wasn't sitting on the bleachers because she was standing underneath a basketball hoop with the other cheerleaders. They were preparing for their performance, which had worried Bones all day. To ease his concerns, Nadine had promised she wouldn't do any flips and vowed it would be her last week on the squad.
"Jesus Christ," Heather blared her crass catchphrase as she hobbled up the bleacher stairs. "Give me your hand, Topher. These steps weren't made for heels."
Chris obeyed, outstretching his hand to the bubbly blonde girl.
"Heather," Chris started, watching a random girl practice a herkie jump. "Why aren't you a cheerleader? You seem perky enough...and loud. Very, very loud. All the time..."
"It's true. I'm naturally cheery," Heather flipped her hair over her shoulder, claiming the seat next to the stout boy. "But I tried out for the squad two years ago and Tina Cransfeld said I was too heavy to be tossed in the air...As if her eye bags don't weigh as much as North and South Dakota." She rolled her eyes.
