WTAFiction

  I dream about Aleck. Not just the crazy stuff we do, but the warmth of her freckled arms and the sunscreen-and-watermelon smell of her skin, her laughing eyes, the vicious curve of her lips as she dares me to do something damn-foolish. It’s sick love. I’m afraid that if I told her my feelings, I’d never see her again except school. Instead, I let her risk my closeted ass all summer. It started with Truth or Dare at Blue’s slumber party. Aleck’s eyes bored into mine. I knew she was gonna ask me who my crush was, but I was too chickenshit to say you , so I said “ dare .” Without batting a sandy eyelash, she dared me to let Mae shoot me in the backside with a BB gun and rock salt. That hurt like blazes. It’s gonna scar, that’s what Blue says, but whatever. I welcome the scars. It’s Aleck writing her name on me. Body’s a passport, they say. Get it stamped. Every scar a forbidden kiss. There’ve been so many dares, like driving the backroads blindfolded, like letting her bury me. W

 NYC Midnight Flash Fiction challenge 3 submission:  Minty and the Tooth Fairy Mi nty pushed up her birth-control glasses and scrutinized me over the cafeteria trays. “Amber doesn’t have the guts,” she muttered to Nicole. I looked down. I hated being talked about. I was right there. The sad remains of lunch-lady spaghetti stared back up. Nicole kicked me in the ankle while crunching her apple, core and all. “Yeah she does.” “Course I do.” “Okay. After shchool, tell your mom you’re shleeping over at my place,” Minty slurred. She’d already stuffed half a pack of gum in her mouth. “Then bring your backpack. It’sh easy.” “What’s so great about the old quarry?” I sulked. “It smells.” “Shee, Nicole? No gutsh.” Nicole whispered in my ear. “Mr. Bascomb hid there before they caught him.” “Cool.” My stomach sank to my sneakers. Mr. Bascomb was famous. Not the good way. Prison famous. They’d found bodies from his mortuary stuffed into a shed. I wasn’t supposed to know: Mom said th