“Oh,” Sandy says in surprise as she sees them. “You guys need some privacy?”
He shakes his head, exhaling smoke from the corner of his mouth. “I could use some company. He’s been out of it for nearly half an hour. This is the most boring high school dance I’ve ever been to.”
“How many high school dances have you been to before?” Alfonso asks.
“Just this one,” Chris says with a melancholy smirk.
We sit down next to him, and Sandy leans her head against Chris’s shoulder.
“Your hair smells nice,” he says.
“Thank you,” Sandy says, and after a pause she adds, “You reek of cigarettes.”
Chris chuckles. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.”
“Thanks,” he says and kisses her head.
We sit in silence for a while, listening to the muffled sound of music from inside the gymnasium and looking at the waxing crescent moon hovering over the horizon. For the first time today I have time to catch my breath and let it all sink in—everything, not just what happened today. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a little over two months since I’ve started high school. In those two months I’ve been through more highs and lows than I would have imagined to encounter all the way through my graduation that’s still the better part of four years away. The thought of all that’s yet to come scares me, but it doesn’t scare me quite as much as it used to. I feel like I’ve finally arrived somewhere. It’s not yet where I want to be, nor will I stay here very long, but for now it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be—among friends, feeling appreciated, accepted, even loved.
My phone chimes twice in rapid succession. It’s two incoming text messages from an unknown number.
Unknown
Hello, Mr. Handsome! You’re probably busy shaking your booty on the dance floor, being admired by ecstatic crowds and being all sweaty, your shirt soaked, making you look like a handsome Latino lover in some music video or something. I’ll let you get back to it, right after telling you that I wish I could be there to share the moment with you. I miss you very much. I have missed you all week and will do so in the weeks and months to come, always longing for the next time you’ll hold me in your skinny arms again. Now back on the dance floor with you! Continue shaking that scrawny booty! Love you! ♥
Unknown
Oh, this is me, by the way. Philip. Phyllis just bought me a brand new FancyPhone so I can stay in touch with you and her and my family when I’m in Maine. I have no idea how to use this thing, haha. ^^;
Me
Haha, no booty-shaking because I’m a terrible dancer. Still having a good time, though, except I wish you could be here, too, my silly baby! And congrats on your new phone, Mr. Fancypants. But anyway, it’s late and you’ve had a rough day, so you should go and get some sleep now. I’ll pay you a visit at the hospital tomorrow, k?
Love you too! ♥
As I hit send and put my phone away, a near silent sigh escapes me, prompting Alfonso to turn his head and look at me.
“You all right?” he asks.
“I am, actually,” I say and lean my head against his shoulder.
“Hey, are you coming on to me?”
I snort. “You wish.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Although …,” I say, “you are kinda sexy sometimes.”
“I didn’t need to know that.”
“Nah, I was just kidding. You’re ugly.”
“Guys, be nice,” Sandy says, and after a pause she adds, “Fánshì dōu yǒu měinǚ, dàn bùshì měi gèrén dōu kěyǐ kàn dào tā.”
We look at her.
“What’s that mean?” Alfonso asks.
“It means ‘everything has beauty, but not everyone can see it.’”
Alfonso nudges me. “How about that?”
“I know,” I say, and it’s the truth. I know.
I put my head back on his shoulder, he rests his head on mine, and it’s okay. For now, for this brief, fleeting moment in time, everything is perfectly okay.
I’ll worry about the future tomorrow.
Thank you for reading Cupid Painted Blind. If you enjoyed it, a quick review over at Amazon.com and/or Amazon.co.uk would would be greatly appreciated. It will help other readers decide whether this book is right for them.
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About the Author
Marcus Herzig, future bestselling author and generally awesome person, was born in 1970 and studied Law, English, Educational Science, and Physics, albeit none of them with any tenacity or ambition. After dropping out of university he held various positions in banking, utilities, and Big Oil that bore no responsibility or decision-making power whatsoever.
Always destined to be a demiurge, he has been inventing characters and telling stories since the age of five. His favorite genre, both as a reader and a writer, is Young Adult literature, but he also very much enjoys science- and literary fiction.
Marcus, who finds it very peculiar to talk about himself in the third person, prefers sunsets over sunrises, white wine over red, beer over wine, pizza over pasta, and humanity over humans. A lifelong lost boy recently found again, all he needs to be happy is sitting at the beach and watching the sunset with his amazingly talented illustrator-and-cover-designer fiancé.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Contents
Title Page
Newsletter Sign-up
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
About the Author