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Back Surrender Your Sons Save as PDF
Chapters (43)
  1. Author’s Note with Content Warnings
  2. CHAPTER ONE
  3. CHAPTER TWO
  4. CHAPTER THREE
  5. CHAPTER FOUR
  6. CHAPTER FIVE
  7. CHAPTER SIX
  8. CHAPTER SEVEN
  9. CHAPTER EIGHT
  10. CHAPTER NINE
  11. CHAPTER TEN
  12. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  13. CHAPTER TWELVE
  14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  15. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  16. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  17. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  18. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  19. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  20. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  21. CHAPTER TWENTY
  22. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  31. CHAPTER THIRTY
  32. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  33. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  41. CHAPTER FORTY
  42. EPILOGUE
  43. Acknowledgments

“OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS, HE CAN’T FIND OUT YOU WERE HERE, PLEASE DON’T SAY ANYTHING!”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MODEL MOUTH

It took five minutes to reassure Drew that Molly, Marcos, and I would also prefer Ben Briggs live his whole life never knowing that three teenagers were eavesdropping on him screwing a fourth teenager. Well, Drew is twenty, but still. Marcos and I consume our body weights in icy water from the Sparkletts dispenser. I’m less muggy than I was in the closet, but a stifling, sticky inner heat refuses to vacate my body. Similarly flush, Marcos drinks and avoids looking at me. I don’t blame him after the series of humiliations I put him through by holding his hand—but nevertheless, the avoidance stings. Having his attention was nicer than this put-off, ignoring energy.

Once we’ve hydrated, the four of us sneak out of the clinic. We opt to avoid the open exposure of the Coral Road, instead choosing to climb through the heavy green cover of its be-jungled edges. The rain comes and goes so quickly here. What was a storming onslaught only five minutes ago has dried up entirely; overcast skies break apart like ice floes, flecks of baby blue peeking around their edges in a promise of good times ahead. But I may be the lone optimist—each of my traveling companions has grown jumpier during our return to camp. Every snapped twig, every rustle of underbrush could be a gray-shirt—or worse, Miss Manners.

“We need to escape RIGHT NOW,” Molly whispers.

“Not until I find out what the Reverend’s been hiding about Ricky,” I respond, gentlemanly pulling aside a swath of bracken to let Molly and Drew pass. Marcos stalks a path far ahead, his tree-trunk legs and hyperactive energy achieving much longer strides than the rest of us. Swampy sweat traps Marcos’s shirt and shorts to the robust curves of his body, and to be honest, the view is doing a lot to mellow my skyrocketing anxiety. I’m being a perv, but it’s impossible to fix my attention anywhere else because everywhere else lies the truth: that we’re bunny rabbits, lost in a wilderness teeming with predators.

And some of the rabbits are cozying up with the predators.

“Look, I’m really sorry again, but we didn’t have a choice,” I tell Drew, who has spent the entirety of our walk engulfed in a self-conscious implosion. “We were already hiding, and then you two ran out. If we showed ourselves, Briggs would’ve gone apeshit.”

“It’s fine,” he hisses. “Literally don’t talk about it again.”

“You know, no judgment, but you’re handcuffing yourself to some seriously bad people—”

“And you keep getting in their way.” Drew spins, his sweat-stained face reddening. He shivers with rage as the rest of us stand in the jungle, catching our breath and falling obediently silent.