Reaper's Lullaby

Gus: Adam

"Meeting you was like listening to a song for the first time and knowing it would be my favorite."
- Unknown

Gus was twelve years old the day he met Adam. Actually, they never really met at all. Adam just sort of slipped into Gus's life like a moth on a warm summer night when the door is closing.

Gus had been trying to be stealthy with the bag of chips, Coke bottle and Twizzlers under his shirt. The cold Coke bottle felt good against his sweaty skin. He was hot, hungry, broke and didn't know much about surviving and making money on his own. All he wanted was lunch.

"Hey kid!" the cashier shouted from the front of the store as the glass door on the refrigerator slammed shut.

Gus froze and immediately caught a glimpse of his warped reflection in the round mirror on the ceiling. What a dumb mistake.

"What's that under your shirt?" he barked in a thick Spanish accent.

"Nothin'," Gus said, his heart racing.

"Yeah right! I just saw you-"

"Hey there you are!"

This new voice belonged to a pale, dark haired boy who was taller than Gus and almost as skinny. He wore jeans that were frayed at the ankles so badly the torn fabric had slung under the sole of his worn sneakers and now hung there like a stringy wad of bubble gum. Gus noticed this because he was looking at the floor, too terrified to look the cashier in the eye. But curiosity got the better of him, and he allowed his eyes to climb up the frayed jeans to a worn out Nirvana t-shirt, then to the boy's face. The boy was grinning. He wore a blue beanie hat despite the heat of the summer day. His eyes were bright and light in color, too light to determine if they were blue or gray.

"Why you puttin' that under your shirt, dumbass?" asked the boy.

"I was hot," Gus said innocently when the spell of the boy's presence had finally broken.

The boy turned to the cashier. "He's my little brother. We been playin' basketball. He's sorta special if ya know what I mean. He don't mean no harm."

To Gus, he said, "Gimme that stuff so I can buy it and get back to the game."

Gus found himself handing over the items he had been planning to steal and silently followed the boy and the cashier to the front of the store. The boy walked with an easy sort of swagger, overly confident with that bright grin on his face. Gus felt like a very small shadow compared to him.

Outside, the boy handed Gus the white plastic bag. "I'm Adam," he said.

"Gus. Thanks," Gus said.

"You're pathetic at stealing."

"So?" Gus said defensively.

Adam laughed. The grin he hadn't lost once since they'd met somehow grew even bigger and brighter. "What are you, like nine?"

"I'm twelve, asshole!"

"No you ain't."

"Yes I am!"

"You look like a fuckin' toddler!"

"I'm small for my age! And I ain't SPECIAL like you told that guy!" Gus shouted, and he was about to start crying because his size and intelligence, or lack thereof, were sore subjects for him.

Adam saw this, but instead of mocking him further, said, "Okay then. You're twelve. You ain't special. Now can I have some Twizzlers or what?"

"Um... sure. You bought 'em," Gus mumbled, handing over the bag.