The Boy Who Couldn't Sleep and Never Had To by DC Pierson Read Free Book Online

Drive. It’s getting later so fewer little kids are out. Knots of older kids are up and down the street with trick-or-treat bags, not quite our age but close. They’re rowdier and pushier than the little kids and their costumes are shittier and they don’t have parents straggling along behind them. I feel like there’s a window after you get too old to trick-or-treat supervised by a parent where you can do it with your friends by yourselves and as longas you push and swear enough and don’t try too hard, you can keep getting free candy for a few years. I had a couple years like that in middle school with my friends Ethan and Chung Hoon. One year we were the Monty Python lumberjacks and the next year we were chess pieces. Chung Hoon moved away after that and Ethan went to a different high school. Actually, we did try pretty hard, but we definitely pushed one another and swore, too.
    Alan’s house is at the end of the cul-de-sac. My brother’s car isn’t here but Alan’s is parked out front, covered in stickers from bands, newer stickers starting to cover old ones of bands Alan’s decided he doesn’t like anymore.
    I get these knots in my stomach when there’s even the remote possibility of getting in trouble. I’ve gotten them since I was a kid. It’s not really a guilty feeling, it’s more a fear that I’m going to get caught and somebody’s going to tell my parents. I get them less since my mom moved away. I have one as we walk up to Alan’s house, but it doesn’t make me want to stop. It almost makes me want to keep going with whatever it is we’re going to do, which will almost certainly be stupid.
    â€œLet’s go around back,” I say.
    â€œWhy?” Eric says.
    I shrug. Eric nods. We go around back.
    The pool light is on even though it’s October. All the lights in the house are off except for what I guess is Alan’s bedroom. I know it’s Alan’s bedroom because through the blinds I can see Alan lying on his bed and a girl is lying across him, going down on him. We were sneaky and quiet before but now we are frozen. The pool filter hums and Alan’s got some sort of music on, loud, not the kind of music I think I would put on but what the fuck do I know. Though he’s my brother’s friend and Eric’s tormentor I don’t think either of us has ever seen this sort of thing before. I definitely haven’t outside of the Internet and I don’t know that Eric has, ever. I don’t even know if he knows there is such a thing.
    â€œOh my God,” Eric whispers.
    The girl is rubbing her boob up and down Alan’s cock.
    The thing that’s weird about it, besides all the things that are obviously weird about it, is that it’s real: I know that sounds dumb or oversimple but it’s the fact that, like I said, up until this point the only time I’ve ever seen anything remotely resembling this is in porn, and this is most definitely not porn. Alan is sort of fat and the girl, who I actually think I might recognize, is almost too skinny and they’re more dressed than they are naked. Alan has this hoodie on that I recognize from when he forgot it at our house for like a week and it was draped over the chair by the front door, green with white lettering that reads THE WORLD’S BEST FUCKING SKATERS, and it’s real and if it’s happening right now it’s happening all over in the backs of normal-looking houses all the time while Eric and I sit indoors and draw. I mean, you hear rumors, even if you’re not friends with anyone named in the rumors, but I guess I always figured it was like fights: you know, people say they’re going to kick each other’s asses but all they really do is meet on the basketball court after school and push each other and call each other “bitch” enough so that nobody will be considered one when they both end up walking away