Excerpt: Stormborn

The Christ is Risen Baptist Church was a white, shining elephant sitting on the corner of two streets lined by dilapidated two-story houses more fit for the rats that lived inside them than for the poor people that borrowed them from their rodent masters. A well-manicured lawn surrounded the church like a moat. But on Thursdays at six, the Baptists that worshipped within lowered their drawbridge, allowing the barbarians to ransack their stores. A line of homeless formed aside two tables manned by six aproned, smiling people who existed only to fill paper plates with food and plastic cups with drink. It was a Good Thursday feast, every Thursday.

This is where Gabe had brought Theo on their first date. At least, Theo wanted to imagine that it was a date. And this place, to a street boy, was as romantic as it could get. Dinner here, movie at the tracks. Why not?
The Baptists were more than excited to share their thoughts on Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior, and everything he went through to save us all from ourselves. “What Would Jesus Do?” their armbands asked, and Theo answered, “Cut yourself a whole lot and blame the system for it so that in 2,000 years a bunch of really rich, really nice people will worship you for it.”

Gabe smacked Theo on the arm. “Be nice. They have hot dogs.”

“Hot dogs? That’s your rule: If they’ve got hot dogs, they deserve our nice.”

“Well, if they have hot dogs and cupcakes.” He stuffed a whole chocolate cupcake into his mouth, the frosting sliding to the corners of his mouth. With his mouth still full, he added, “I’m not that easy, you know.”

Theo reached up with his finger and wiped off Gabe’s mouth, using the frosting stuck to his lips as an excuse to touch them. “Uh huh.” Then he went to lick the chocolate frosting off his finger.

Gabe grabbed Theo’s hand. “Hey! That’s mine.” He took Theo’s finger and put it into his mouth, suckling at the frosting until there only the dirt on it was left.

Theo smirked and grabbed a plate. This time, as an excuse to turn away from Gabe and hide the tent that had grown underneath the zipper of his ripped jeans.

With full plates of hot dogs, rice and beans, ice cream, and cupcakes they sat down on one of the faux wood benches near an old black man who smelled like alcohol and a thin white woman who looked like she used to wear so much makeup that it’d burned itself into her wrinkled face. Theo and Gabe looked at each other a lot as they ate, laughing and reaching over to steal one another’s food. Gabe kept grabbing Theo’s hand and feeding himself with it, licking excess ketchup and frosting from Theo’s palm. The black man next to them started hacking phlegm onto his plate and wiped his face with one of the thick, oily sleeves of his once-beige suede coat. And Theo reached over the table and left a clump of frosting on Gabe’s nose, which he promptly licked off with his tongue.