Category Archives: Bang*Bang no. 26

9
Sep

Best Laid

Posted by | Categories Bang*Bang no. 26, Text | Tagged ,

He would say the worst part of it was the cliché of it all, but really, the worst part of it was getting his nose shoved into his locker on a daily basis. The cliché thing was just a delightful garnish, a little sprig of parsley on his afternoon pain in the ass.

“Don’t dunk on us, now!” said Steve Williams as he dribbled the back of Dante’s head into his locker. Dante kept his face against the cold metal after he pulled away, just to minimize the damage of any possible second strike. But no, Steve and the rest of his team were just laughing now, and Dante lifted his head up to watch them walk away. The basketball team just loved his ass.

9
Sep

Caught in a Rush

Posted by | Categories Bang*Bang no. 26, Text | Tagged

The rush begins.

Aidan blinks, thinking that his eyes are probably playing tricks on him. But the content of the small piece of parchment he found in the outer pocket of his bag doesn’t change. The letters printed in bold, cursive font still form the same message: ‘Mr. Mathersen – You have been qualified to join SandS. Step-by-step process will be revealed in the next few days. Tell no one.’

Scribbled underneath are instructions, specifically stating that the note has to be destroyed, so Aidan heads straight to the boys’ restroom, shreds the paper then flushes it down the toilet. His eyes are transfixed on the torn pieces swirling along with the water, watching it until it disappears.

9
Sep

Strength, Gallantry, and Other Useless Bits

Posted by | Categories Bang*Bang no. 26, Text | Tagged ,

“HONOURABLE MOTHER, HOW COULD YOU?” Wan Lee shrieked. “YOU HAVE TAINTED MY INNOCENCE WITH YOUR CARNAL SINS!”

“Oh please,” his mother said from the other side of the webcam. “Get a grip on yourself.” She looked to Shou Yan as if he could put some sense in her son, but Shou Yan ducked his head and pretended to find his math homework extremely entertaining, never mind that he hated calculus and hated their calculus teacher even more. Auntie Lu tsked and said to Wan Lee, “You’re treating your shield brother properly, right? Poor Shou Yan looks overworked! There are bags underneath his eyes!”

9
Sep

Welcome Back, Class of 1990

Posted by | Categories Bang*Bang no. 26, Text | Tagged ,

Being back was like someone had lifted all my skin just far enough away from my body to slip a layer of black pepper beneath, then tugged it back on so tight that it was all I could do not to claw myself bloody to get out. The hotel ballroom’s doors were decorated with flashing lights and a hand-painted sign that read TIME MACHINE, but stepping inside was less like traveling twenty years back, and more like being pushed twenty years closer to my inevitable death. It was the worst paranoia of a pot high mixed with the uncomfortable disorientation of being just this side of browning-out drunk, only without the positive side effects of either condition, and I was hit with a wave of panic so fierce that I might have bolted right then and there if a pair of tiny hands hadn’t spun me around and slapped the left side of my chest.

9
Sep

Unwound

Posted by | Categories Bang*Bang no. 26, Text | Tagged

It’s freezing outside, and Austin’s building’s front door is like some sort of Nirvana, shining forth into the hardship and dusty toil of a Tuesday night. He’s walked twenty minutes from the library, where he spent six hours fighting with Cicero, until the Latin was swimming in front of his eyes. It takes two or three frustrating tries, numb fingers fumbling his keys, before he gets inside and breathes in warm air.

He makes for the stairs without even looking at the mailbox. Getting home has given him enough energy to jog up the first flight, but it fades pretty fast, and he takes the second at more of a trudge. He checks the time as he sorts through his keys again: eight forty-seven. Crap, he never had dinner, no wonder he feels so…extra-awful. He thinks about food, thinks that he’d maybe rather not.

9
Sep

Foreign Exchange

Posted by | Categories Bang*Bang no. 26, Text | Tagged ,

Liam Conway was practically raised on American Westerns. His mother had been a fan of one actor in particular, a man that rarely spoke in his films but radiated a self-assurance that had made her and his sister swoon. He remembered gathering around the telly and catching the marathons on just the right channel.

Though he wasn’t as vocal or as visible as them, perhaps he swooned a bit too. While he knew to some extent that it wasn’t real–particularly the parts with the Indians, which always made him a tad uncomfortable–he had always hoped that America was full of tall handsome cowboys.

If the airport where he’d landed was any indication, he’d been sorely mistaken.