PARKING_02

Feel the weather turnin caint you, Caleb says. Aint soaked thru by noon an pissed off. Got to wheres I aint wearin underwears cause it just get soaked thru and strung up my ass like a damn thong. Jess laughs. Smoke comes from her mouth and nostrils, one cuffed with a tiny gold bangle set with miniature beads color of rainbow. "(Don't Fear) The Reaper" on the radio, the dash heat-ruptured and cracks shown cargut like plain foam buttered bread yellow. Jess reaches downside the chicken bucket and pulls a leg out and takes a bite and turns and there's Caleb looking at her weird, smoking, quiet. Crows caw. Pines shake in wind, their needles sizzle like frying bacon. Jess smudges the grease from her lips. Wipes the chicken grease on her cream coffee thigh. Caleb leans in and kisses her. Tastes like chicken. Like smoke. Her lips slick with grease. He finds her tongue. She bites his. He pulls away. She laughs.

Zippos cigarette. Romeo and Juliet / Are together in eternity. Think we gone beat Mary Persons, Caleb says. I mean, they bound to sneak up on us sooner than later. Aint even come close in five years. Jess sighs. What coach think, she says. He aint said it if he thunk it, Caleb says. All he kept on with is focus. That all he said for weeks now. Focus. Caleb White, focus. Focus on the ball. Focus on one game at one time. Aint gone go undefeated in single Friday night. Aint gone make that touchdown pass to beat the next ten teams. Aint gone win region without it. Focus. Jess laughs. You want this, she said, handing the chicken leg out to Caleb. It's too damn greasy. They done changed they recipe up on somethin. Don't taste right.

Caleb cracks a beer. He sips it. Come on baby / Don't fear the reaper / Baby take my hand / Don't fear the reaper / We'll be able to fly / Don't fear the reaper / Baby I'm your man. What you spose that tallet doin on that car, Jess says, exhaling. Smoke spun about the dash and became waves and mountains and then lakes and hills and then nothing. Fucked up aint it, Caleb says. Where it come from in the first place. Some joker musta brought it here. Jess turns to Caleb. You aint think folk doin they bisness innit? Caleb laughs and sips his beer. Won't put it past em, baby. Caleb throws the chicken leg out the window. I'm bout to go sit on that damn tallet, Caleb says. Chrise, I got to shit. No you aint, Jess says. You think I made it up, Caleb says. I got to go. Then you gone off in them woods, Jess says. An what the hell you gone wipe yourself off with. Jess slaps Caleb hard on the arm. He laughs. He crushes the beer can. I'm gone hit that chicken leg, Caleb says, tossing the can. Can sails off to the left and lands without a sound on pine needles browning. You throw like that Friday night and yall will get beat, Jess says. Come on baby / Don't fear the reaper. Crows caw.

Never unnerstan what the fuck this song was about, Caleb says. Sound like it about killin yourself and then it sound like it about people savin themself and then they just singing there like so la la la la la like they aint said nothin afore bout killin oneself. Aint he sang somethin about Romero and Julet, Jess says. About that story we read in Miss Rawlin's class. Boyfriend and girlfriend an they folks aint want em to be together. Caleb laughs. What you daddy think bout Jessica Chesser gettin a fuckin nosering. Jess pouts. He like to pull it clean out my nose when he seen it, she says. Bet he did, baby. Bet he did. He a mean sumbitch to be as old as he is. I aint fuck with him I known that. Caleb cracks another beer. He drinks. You get me one of them, Jess says. Caleb reaches behind the seat and pops the cooler top and grabs a beer and cracks the top and hands it to Jess. She puts her hand in his lap. Caleb drinks. Your dick hard enough, she says, laughing. Get any harder liable to crumble, Caleb says. Crows caw.