Ties Stronger Than Blood

Lyrics from Take a Chance On Me, by ABBA

Chapter Four

They spent a half-four walking along the boardwalk, just talking. Marko hadn't had much opportunity to just hang out with boys his own age. Their host families never seemed to have any teenage sons. He found himself occasionally spending time with preadolescent boys, and he didn't mind that, really he didn't. He liked kids, but he couldn't really talk to them. It was different with Dwayne, Paul--and David. Especially David.

Marko usually felt awkward with anyone but the gospel group. He knew that a lot of it was what he was, not who he was. He was seen either as an entertainer, or as someone who'd dedicated himself to the service of the Lord, and that set him apart in their eyes. He had a feeling that he'd have a hard time explaining how things really were, and he didn't really want to disappoint most of the people. He knew it gave them a sense of comfort to believe in someone who could selflessly devote themselves to their beliefs. How could he ever explain that he hadn't made a choice? His grandmother had dedicated him, as surely as any heathen who'd ever laid a squalling newborn on the steps of some unnamed god's primitive temple.

It was different with these boys. They knew what he was, but they seemed more interested in who he was. "So, how'd you end up with Gram and Gramps?" David asked as they leaned against one of the buildings. It was a comic book store. Paul was at the window, making faces at the two grim faced boys who seemed to be in charge. Dwayne was watching him, shaking his head, but smiling. *It's like Paul's showing off for him,* Marko thought. *The way I've seen some of the boys acting silly, trying to catch the attention of girls.*

David poked him. "Earth to Marko?"

"Sorry. They have a lot of fun, don't they?"

David glanced at the other two. Paul had looped an arm around Dwayne's neck and was whispering in the dark-haired boy's ear. Whatever he was saying had Dwayne snickering. "Yeah, they're good for each other."

There was an odd tone to David's voice. It was a mixture of pride, pleasure, and wistfulness. "My parents died when I was nine, in a car accident." Marko looked down at the boardwalk. "I lived."

David winced. "Damn, man," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

Marko shrugged. "You weren't the one driving. I won't say I'm over it, but it's better now. The thing is, I wasn't supposed to go to my grandparents. My parents had talked about it, because Ruth tried to have them declared unfit so she could get custody of me." He glared at David fiercely. "They weren't! She tried to make a big deal out of them going to a bar every now and then, and me being in daycare since Mom was working. Anyway, the judge threw the case out, and said the child welfare people had screwed up by even letting it get that far. My parents didn't tell me any of this, but I used to hear them talking when they thought I was asleep, and I figured it out. They thought I wouldn't understand, but I could tell how she is from the first time I saw her."

David nodded. "I bet you could. You pay attention to the world, don't you, Marko?"

Marko nodded. "And I'm not as naive as people seem to think I am. I never have been. Anyway, my mom and dad wanted me to go to my Uncle Gene--my dad's brother. They even wrote up a paper saying that was what they wanted. They were going to go to a lawyer and have it made official, but..." He shrugged. "Money was kind of tight, and they thought they had time."

"Time has a way of sneaking up and biting most people in the ass," David agreed.

"David," said Paul. "Me and Dwayne are gonna go get something to drink." He smiled. "You want regular, or dark?"

"Regular. Meet you under the boardwalk, okay?"

"You got it." The two boys trotted down the boardwalk, laughing as they dodged through the crowd.

David was watching him. "You still have time, right?"

Marko checked his watch. "About an hour, I think."

"Come on, then."

David led him down a set of wooden steps, down to the sand of the beach. They walked under the boardwalk platform, back into the shadows with David leading the way. Marko's steps slowed as they went deeper, and David paused. "You okay?"

"It's just kind of dark."

"Yeah. Great, isn't it? Your eyes will adjust in a couple of minutes. Here--gimme your hand. I'll make sure you don't run into anything."

David was just one shadow among others, moving toward Marko, and Marko felt a brief flicker of unease. *He must spend a lot of time here. He moves so easily, like he belongs here in the dark.* Then David took his hand. His fingers were firm and cool, almost cold.

"Don't worry, buddy. I got you." His voice was reassuring, almost gentle, and Marko's unease fled.

They came to an area where three piers, lashed together, braced a major support. David dropped Marko's hand and sank down to sit on the sand, and Marko followed suit. He looked around, then glanced up. Thin, flickering shafts of light sifted down through the hairline cracks between the boards above, washing the area in dim yellow. He could hear the rumble of the amusement rides, and the disjointed blending of a half-dozen different rock n' roll songs. There was the erratic thump and scrap of footsteps, and occasional burst of laughter, or voices raised in excitement.

There was a bright flare of light, and Marko looked over to see David lighting a cigarette. The other boy shook out the match, and the light faded, save for the reddish glow of the cigarette's coal. Marko's eyes had adjusted, as David said they would, and he could see the grayish plume of smoke as David exhaled. The other boy gestured with the cigarette. "I should have asked. Does this bother you?"

"No," Marko assured him. "Not unless I'm stuck somewhere tight with no ventilation."

"Some people can't handle it--allergies. I've heard some of 'em talking about what they call second hand smoke, too. Say it's just as bad for you as if you smoked--maybe worse."

"I've spent most of my life on a bus. I'm sure I've swallowed enough road dust and exhaust to make worrying about a little smoke kind of silly."

"So you're not afraid I'm gonna give you cancer?"

"No."

"You're pretty trusting, Marko--coming down here with me." Marko said nothing, studying the pale outline of David's face. "A lot of things could go unnoticed under here. A lot of things have gone unnoticed. It's a different world, and the people topside stay oblivious. That's the way they like it."

There was a lull as the noise overhead seemed to ebb for a moment, leaving near silence. There was only the faint, far off strain of one song, playing on a distant ride. ABBA, Marko thought. "If you change your mind, I'm the first in line. Honey I'm still free, take a chance on me. If you need me, let me know, gonna be around. If you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down. If you're all alone..."

"Are you trying to scare me?"

David flicked an ash, staring at him. "Are you scared?"

Marko studied the other boy. Living with Mother Ruth had given him a fine sense for hypocrites. He was good at seeing past the masks people wore for the world. With David... David wasn't showing him everything, but then--they'd just met. Marko had a feeling that David was being more open with him than most people in his life had. "Not of you."

The other boy smiled, tossing away the cigarette. "Good. We're gonna be friends, Marko."

"I hope so." They were silent for a moment, then Marko heard footsteps, and muted laughter.

Dwayne and Paul appeared out of the darkness, Paul carrying a paper bag. They dropped down to sit cross-legged, side-by-side, near the other two. "Missed us?" Paul gave them a cheeky grin, wiggling his eyebrows. "Or are we interrupting something?"

"Smart ass." There was wry affection in David's voice. "Show me."

Paul shoved the paper down, revealing a large bottle of malt liquor. Marko said, "How did you get that? None of you are of age, right?"

Dwayne smirked. "David is."

"I don't have the right ID, though. We have our ways, Songbird," drawled David. "Paul, open that up before the chill goes off."

Paul unscrewed the cap, then acted like he was going to take a drink. Dwayne slapped his shoulder, saying, "Hey, rude! Offer some to our guest first."

"No, thanks," said Marko. "You enjoy."

"Ah, c'mon." Paul extended the bottle.

"Don't push him," David said firmly.

Paul took a swig, then tilted the bottle up to Dwayne's mouth, holding it while he drank. Marko saw the way Paul watched the dark-haired boy, his eyes shining, like he was looking at something precious. Dwayne wiped the bottle neck on his sleeve, then said, "You sure, Marko? This stuff isn't all that strong, and it's pretty smooth."

"He's a teetotaler," said Paul.

"I don't think that's it," said David. "I think it's because a certain someone might take it into her head to sniff his breath."

That was exactly it. Mother Ruth always muttered and threatened whenever she caught the scent of booze on one of the musicians, and Marko had never wanted to sample alcohol enough to risk the aggravation.

"We can take care of that," offered Paul. He felt around in his pockets. "I got gum, and I think I have a few TicTacs here, too."

"We wouldn't want to push Marko into doing anything that might get him in trouble."

Marko looked at him sharply, remembering exactly how much of his time went into avoiding incurring Ruth's disapproval. And the thing was--it was impossible to avoid. He knew that if she presented him with a list of things that he must do perfectly to please her, and he managed to do all of them, she'd just add more. He held out his hand toward Paul. "Let me have it."

He took the bottle, tipped it up, and took two long swallows, eyes closing with the sting as the alcohol burned. He could hear Paul and Dwayne whooping in encouragement. When he lowered the bottle he offered it to David, saying hoarsely, "And that's it for me."

David accepted the bottle. "That's all right, little brother." He drank deeply, then smiled at Marko, eyes glinting in the dim light. "Some things you have to take up gradually."