Kamikaze Boys

By Jay Bell

A gay coming-of-age story from the author of Something Like Summer...

Everyone at school thinks that Connor Williams is a dangerous psychopath, but when he rescues David Henry from the clutches of a bully, the two outsiders form an alliance of the heart. The world isn’t done messing with them though. David and Connor will have to fight to keep their love safe if they ever want to find their happily-ever-after.

Kamikaze Boys, a Lambda Literary award-winning novel, is the sweet and emotional story of two young men who walk a perilous path in the hopes of saving each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jay Bell
• Release date: Jan 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466062559

Jay Bell

Jay Bell is a proud gay man and the award-winning author behind dozens of emotional and yet hopelessly optimistic stories. His best-selling book, Something Like Summer, spawned a series of heart-wrenching novels, a musically driven movie, and a lovingly drawn comic. When not crafting imaginary worlds, he occupies his free time with animals, art, action figures, and—most ardently—his husband Andreas. Jay is always dreaming up new stories about boys in love. If that sounds like your cup of tea, you can get the kettle boiling by visiting www.jaybellbooks.com.

Book preview

Chapter One

A concrete field stretched out before David Henry, a herd of secondhand cars idle in the afternoon sun. The largest of these was a polished SUV—a bull among the cows. Standing proudly next to it was the guy determined to kick his ass. David supposed he could still turn around, escape back into the building and choose a different exit like he had the day before. Then again, there was no avoiding the ten-minute walk between school and home, where so much could go wrong along the way.

Yesterday he had hoped the exodus of cars and buses would make it too difficult for the bullies to find him. David had just reached his neighborhood when a car approached from behind, engine roaring and horn blaring. One glance over his shoulder was all it took to confirm his worse fears: a big black SUV, and behind the wheel, Chuck Marsh, his own personal nightmare. David had broken into a run to escape, not that it helped. The SUV drove onto the sidewalk, voices howling in amusement as he fled in terror. He’d been forced to race across a perfectly manicured yard and hide behind the two-story house it belonged to, but even that humiliation was better than another bloody nose.

Today the cruel game began again. Would they catch him this time? Or would he get away? David wavered in the entrance to his school, uncertain what to do, until one of the students swarming around him hissed that he should move and shoved him from behind. David stumbled out into a mild Kansas afternoon, the kind he used to love when he was a kid. Too distracted to notice who had jostled him, he looked instead at the slowly emptying parking lot to see if Chuck had left yet. Of course not. Beady eyes were already locked onto his. Even if David reentered the school, they would know they had him on the run. And they would give chase.

Chuck wasn’t the most popular guy in school, but he had more status than David did. For one thing, he had friends—plural—a pair flanking him now and hungry for a show. Their lanky frames only made Chuck appear more toadish, like a frog squatting between two dandelions. Or like a fat troll, which was exactly the description that had landed David in this mess. These foolishly courageous words escaped his lips in the middle of fourth period math. David’s head had been bowed—as always—while he covertly read a fantasy novel hidden behind his precalculus book. He’d been nearing the end of a chapter when Chuck reached over and grabbed the novel, taking one look at the cover before tossing it to the floor.

Faggot, Chuck had muttered, and not for the first time.

David’s face burned when he reached down to pick up the book. On the front was a picture of a longhaired man clutching at a white horse. He had known the stupid cover with its lavender swirls would attract attention. David liked the book anyway, and the art too, if he was honest, but it infuriated him that he couldn’t even read without becoming a target. So angry, in fact, that he hadn’t consider the consequences of the words he spoke next.

Fat troll.

Chuck had smirked, David’s bravery swiftly replaced by fear, because he knew there would be a price to pay after school. Sure enough, Chuck was glaring at him now, or squinting, like he always seemed to. Maybe he needed glasses but refused to get them, not wanting to be associated with the type of people he enjoyed picking on. He didn’t look so tough at first glance. Chuck was pudgy with short brown hair and a swath of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His smiling yearbook photo made him resemble a chubby-cheeked cherub. He wasn’t though. As Chuck leaned against his glistening SUV, he appeared more stocky than fat. It didn’t matter how out-of-shape he was. With size came strength. Taking him on would be like getting into the boxing ring with an ogre. Not that David intended to fight. God only knew what he would do besides whimper as they pummeled him.

He could run. They would laugh and pursue, but David would have a head start. He glanced to his left and saw another of Chuck’s friends, the one with the long grungy hair, hovering by the corner of the building while seeming to search for something. So that’s how they had found him yesterday. Was picking on him really worth all the effort? That escape route was blocked regardless. The right led toward a sports field next to the school, which would be dangerously deserted by now. They probably had a lookout posted in that direction too, so David kept moving forward, hoping to find some other opportunity to escape.

Chuck wasn’t taking any chances today. He stepped into the center of the lane to continue watching him. David had hoped to use a group of students as camouflage and hide behind them until he could duck between rows of parked cars. He would squat-walk his way to freedom! But no, he had waited too long. There weren’t as many people in the parking lot now, and hardly any vehicles to shield him from sight. Unsure what else to do, David kept moving forward, unable to shake the feeling that he was walking into the open mouth of a shark. There were still witnesses around. Maybe that would be enough to discourage anything bad from happening.

No such luck. Chuck was finished playing games and moved to intercept him. Hey! Faggot! You and I need to talk.

David’s voice came out as a rusty squeak. Why?

You owe me an apology. Chuck cracked his knuckles meaningfully.

The other guys chuckled, their eager expressions devoid of sympathy.

A car honked from behind. David flinched and moved out of the lane, bringing him closer to Chuck’s SUV. Bad decision. He should have gone back into the school and pleaded with a teacher to drive him home. That would have made him feel even more pathetic than yesterday, but at least he would have been safe. Now it was too late.

Chuck and his friends circled, using the SUV to wall him in completely. David turned his back to it, not daring to take his eyes off his adversaries. His favorite kind of heroes were those who relied on smarts instead of strength. Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes, Captain Janeway… Perhaps he could draw inspiration from them and talk his way out of this. Listen, I shouldn’t have called you a troll. I was just—

Chuck shoved him. David was right: Someone who weighed that much had a lot of force at their disposal. He stumbled backward, arms pinwheeling, but his backpack threw him further off balance and he fell. David’s butt hit the pavement, the backpack scraping along the plastic grill of Chuck’s SUV. He doubted the soft fabric did any real damage. Even so, Chuck only had himself to blame, but fairness didn’t count in situations like these. The guys surrounding him sucked in air between their teeth. They knew what was coming. David did too.

Get away from my car, faggot! Chuck snarled.

Sorry, David said as he regained his feet. I didn’t mean to—

I said get away! Chuck moved forward, fists balled.

David braced himself for the inevitable.

What’s going on, Marshmallow?

An arm wrapped around Chuck’s neck, pulling him down as if he weighed nothing before subjecting him to a noogie. What are you up to? the newcomer said. Causing trouble again? Can I help?

Get off me! Chuck pulled away and turned, scowling, to see who he was dealing with.

Connor Williams, an even bigger monster than Chuck, both figuratively and literally. Although not necessarily in regards to height. Connor had the beefy build of a college guy. Probably because that’s how old he was, if the rumors were true, but for now he was still stuck in high school, a perpetual senior who never managed to graduate. His green eyes sparkled with amusement as he playfully shoved Chuck, the sun making his buzzed blonde hair glow like he was some sort of deranged sun god.

David couldn’t remember seeing Chuck and Connor together before, but it wasn’t hard to imagine them as friends. He didn’t care how well they knew each other, because no matter what, this situation had gone from bad to unbearably worse.

Fuck off, Williams, Chuck mumbled, keeping his eyes down while glaring at the asphalt.

His friends, whom Connor hadn’t even acknowledged, shifted uncomfortably. David didn’t blame them. Connor Williams was a psychopath and everyone knew it. That made him unpredictable. Connor might laugh and wander off, or he could be seconds away from killing them all. A black eye and a few bruises didn’t sound so bad by comparison.

What’s going on?

David realized that Connor was addressing him and felt the blood drain from his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

This asshole, Chuck said, having recovered, just threw himself at my car.

Connor raised an eyebrow. Weird. To me it looked like you pushed him.

As if to demonstrate, Connor shoved Chuck again. This time he didn’t seem to be holding back.

Chuck stumbled but managed to stay standing. He’s a fag! he said, as if this justified his actions.

Connor might think it did. If one word could turn other people against him, that was it. The slur had accompanied David for most of his teenage life. By junior high, everyone seemed to have figured it out, even before he had.

Connor looked at David. Really? Then he cocked his head, flashed a crazed grin, and turned back to Chuck. Funny, ’cause I’m a fag too.

Chuck swallowed. Shut up.

Seriously, Connor insisted. Push me next. He moved to the front of the SUV. David scurried away to avoid him, but he was ignored as Connor stood with his back to the hood and spread his arms wide. Go on. Push me. Push the faggot.

Chuck shook his head and groped in his pockets for the keys while mumbling that he needed to be somewhere. His friends followed his lead and piled into the vehicle. Connor stayed put, turning to stare at Chuck through the windshield. The engine came to life, but still he held his ground, as if daring Chuck to run him over. David wasn’t interested in sharing this fate. He pressed himself against the neighboring car, tense as he waited for the situation to reach critical mass.

It didn’t. Connor finally stepped aside, allowing Chuck to speed out of the parking lot. David wished his adrenaline would let up. His heart was still thudding, his body drenched in sweat. Connor turned toward him, increasing the temptation to run.

That your car? he asked.

No, David croaked. I don’t have one.

Want a ride?

David stared at him, waiting for some bizarre twist to this offer, but Connor no longer looked as unhinged as he had a minute ago. He seemed more in control now, his expression stone cold, which only made him more intimidating. The hint of stubble on his chin and the scar running from his jaw to his adam’s apple reminded David of the legends that followed in his wake. Not only was Connor older, but he also bore the mark of his most heinous crime. If David got into that car, he would probably be driven to the edge of town to play some hellish game. He imagined himself running through the woods, fleeing from maddened laughter and insane green eyes.

No! he answered. I mean… Um. Thanks anyway. I have to go now.

David turned and walked away while keeping his head down, certain that Connor would attack him at any moment. His muscles remained tense until he reached the edge of the parking lot. When he made it to the other side of the street, only then did he dare glance back. Connor Williams had disappeared, returning to wherever bad dreams come from.

• • • • •

The condos where David lived weren’t far from his school, the walk just long enough for him to regain control of his nerves. What a mess he had gotten himself into! If he could travel back in time, he’d keep his mouth shut in math class. Or maybe he would go even further back and leave the gay fantasy novel at home. Then again, getting to watch someone push Chuck around was almost worth all the stress.

David could still remember the first time he had seen Connor. His ninth grade history class had been in the library, doing research for a project on ancient civilizations. The girl David was partnered with had gasped and pointed across the worn desks to the old card catalog system that nobody used anymore. Standing there, flipping through the index cards with his back to them, was Connor.

He used to go to the same junior high as me, the girl had said. That was before we moved to this side of town. He’s psycho. They sent him to juvenile hall for a whole year.

For what? He still remembered the girl’s excitement, as if she had hoped David would ask this.

He tried to kill his dad, she whispered. And he almost did. The guy survived, but now he’s crippled.

Seriously?

Yep! I can prove it too. Wait until he turns around. You’ll see a scar on Connor’s throat from when a couple of guys tried to kill him. It happened while he was still locked up. They were stupid to mess with him. He nearly beat them to death.

Ignoring their work, they had sat there and waited for Connor to turn around. When he finally did, David was surprised at how human he appeared. Handsome even, in a rough sort of way. Then he noticed the scar and knew the stories were true.

David shook away the memories and hoped that, like most people in school, Connor would soon forget he existed. Besides, he had seemed more interested in messing with Chuck, who might have also opened his mouth at the wrong time and attracted the anger of a bigger fish. People who had survived high school were often dismissive of the experience, but for those still trapped there, each day could be a vicious battle for survival. David, as the lowest on the social food chain, knew this all too well.

Lowest except for Gordon, who didn’t even make the chart. He was already sitting on the front steps of the condo waiting for David to return home. Gordon was like a kid brother to him, although the difference in the color of their skin ruled out any blood relation. Gordon’s family was of Pakistani descent, while David was mostly Greek and French, according to his father anyway. All he saw when looking in the mirror was an awkward white guy. And when looking at Gordon, all he saw was his best friend. Only a year’s difference in age separated them, but Gordon’s chubby cheeks and goofy bowl haircut made him appear younger than he actually was. It didn’t help that he was homeschooled, which probably accounted for his socially awkward demeanor. David didn’t mind. Gordon was fun to hang out with.

He often wished that they went to school together. The reason Gordon’s parents kept him at home remained a mystery. They weren’t overly religious and seemed like fairly normal people. Maybe their formative years had also been rough and they wanted to spare their son the same pain. David sometimes felt a little sorry for Gordon, but on days like these, he was envious. His only comfort came from the calendar, since it was May. Only a little longer until summer break and a lot less anxiety.

I think I understand why we can’t steal the dragon armor from the orcs, Gordon said, standing up and unselfconsciously tugging the wedgie from his cargo shorts. This task completed, he held up a video game strategy guide. We haven’t completed the quest for the crystal chalice yet.

I thought it was optional, David said.

It is, but not if you want the dragon armor.

David unlocked the condo’s front door and held it open. So what if Gordon was a little weird? At least David felt comfortable around him. Much of that came from knowing what to expect. They normally stuck to the same daily rituals, tried and true. After grabbing a juice box from the fridge, they would go downstairs to his bedroom, where David would play video games while Gordon pored over his most recent strategy guide. His friend treated these books like bibles, reacting with shock if David ever went against their advice. He seemed to enjoy the guides more than the actual games.

This routine was rarely broken. Only occasionally would the fantasy games and novels inspire them to go out for a hike. On such outings they would stroll through the woods, discussing their favorite plots or pretending that they themselves had crossed over to a magical realm. But usually they kept it simple and stayed at home.

David opened the door to his room and breathed out a sigh of relief. This was his sanctuary, a sacred place that the madness of the world couldn’t penetrate. Only here did he let himself relax. The blinds were pulled, as usual, to create the illusion of night outside. The walls were dark too, every square inch covered with posters and pages torn from magazines. Some represented David’s hobbies, others were photos of remote locations he hoped to visit someday: Egypt, Greece, China—anywhere but here. These days there were images of male models too, since he no longer had anything to hide.

David plugged in a string of lights—a plastic jalapeño covering each bulb—that cast a cozy glow over the room. He thought about how many memories he had made here. Most were trivial, but some were deeply important to him.

Gordon was the first person David had come out to. Tired of waiting for an ideal time (which was non-existent, as far as he could tell), he had simply paused the game they were playing and blurted out. I’m gay.

Gordon’s face had scrunched up in response. I’m not.

But you’re okay with it?

Gordon thought about it, shrugged, and nodded.

Simple as that. They resumed their game, and the topic had rarely come up since. Then again, Gordon had been the one to loan him the fantasy novel with the lavender cover and a gay main character. That couldn’t be a coincidence, so David took it as a supportive gesture.

I’m looking forward to playing today, he said, feeling a surge of warmth for his friend.

I’m excited too. Gordon took his usual seat on the edge of the bed and flipped through the pages of his guide. There are some good treasures on the chalice quest that will help us later on. I couldn’t wait for you to get home.

Me neither. The game console hummed and purred as it booted up. David sat on the bed, still marveling at how different his two worlds were. You’re lucky you don’t have to go to school.

I know, Gordon replied, even though he truly didn’t.

Any plans for the weekend?

Gordon sat up straight, a rare event. I got a birthday card in the mail from my aunt. I haven’t opened it yet, but she always sends me money.

Sweet!

Yeah. I thought we could go to the mall on Sunday. The new Final Fantasy just came out, and we can hit the used bookstore across the way. Think you can get the car?

David nodded. He hadn’t figured out what to buy Gordon for his birthday, but maybe he would find something while at the mall.

They spent the next hour gaming, David working the controller while Gordon split his attention between the television screen and the book in his lap. Usually this was enough to make David forget his troubles, but today his mind kept wandering back to the confrontation in the parking lot. Chuck would be twice as pissed tomorrow, and David wouldn’t be rescued by a convenient distraction. Whatever happened, it was sure to hurt.

Let’s call it a day, he said at the next save point.

Gordon glanced at the clock, probably because they still had another half hour before David’s father came home, but he didn’t say anything. He loitered another ten minutes, discussing the virtual dungeon they would explore next, before he finally left.

David closed the door to his room and counted under his breath until he heard the front door slam. Then he turned on his speakers, set the list of his favorite songs to shuffle, and cranked up the volume. He loved to dance. The music didn’t matter as much as the rhythm. All he needed was a strong beat. Hip hop, metal, pop… Anything would do. On really bad days, this was the ultimate cure, a surefire way to exorcise his demons while exercising his body. David loved to freak out when he danced, not doubting for a second that bullies would line up around the corner if they could see the way he flailed his arms and spun around, but he didn’t care. He was home—the one place he could truly be himself. Craving the darkness that often accompanied this manic meditation, David unplugged the bar lights and continued moving to the rhythm, his world devoid of light but lush with sound.

• • • • •

Did you set the table?

David nodded at his father. He finished filling his glass with tap water before he took his seat at the small square table. For a piece of furniture, it wasn’t very optimistic. The table was pushed against a wall and only had enough surface area to accommodate two, implying the owner didn’t expect— or even want—visitors.

He had learned to accept that. When his mother first announced her intent to leave, beyond the shock, David had imagined a lazy bachelor’s life with his father. Richard Henry would finally loosen his tie and sit with his son in front of the TV every night as they picked at microwave dinners and laughed at stupid comedies. He had assumed his mother’s constant nagging and eternally pursed lips had made his father a starchy person. In truth, Richard’s inflexibility was probably what had driven her away. He had only gotten worse since then.

Richard set two plates on the table before taking a seat. Pasta with tomato sauce. Again. On weekends, his father often cooked a big pot of sauce, divvying it into freezer bags for later use. That way, all he had to do on work days was boil a pot of water for the pasta and toss the sauce bag in the microwave. If his father was feeling energetic, he would add meatballs or throw together a chopped salad instead. Good thing too or David probably would have died from malnutrition years ago, not that he cared much about such things. He would prefer delivery pizza or a greasy bag of fast food, but neither was as cost-effective as the endless parade of pasta.

How was school?

The usual, David answered between bites. Despite his lack of enthusiasm for the meal, all that dancing had made him hungry.

Only a few weeks until summer break, Richard said. Any sign of your grades?

I don’t know. Straight A’s? Isn’t that what I always get?

His fathered peered at him from over his glasses, chewing carefully before dabbing his trimmed beard with a napkin. Last semester you received a ninety-one in math. That’s only two points away from a B.

And only nine points away from being perfect. That’s good considering how terrible I am with numbers. Especially this year.

What is it about precalculus that you find so challenging?

The mind-numbing boredom.

Having his desk next to the biggest asshole in school didn’t help either. If only his dad knew what he went through every day, but David couldn’t imagine them discussing it. Then again, why not? That’s what parents were for, and it sure beat talking about grades.

He set down his fork. Did anyone pick on you in school?

Richard raised an eyebrow in concern. Are you having trouble?

David shook his head. I’m just wondering what it was like for you.

Is that why your grades are slipping?

Ugh. Why couldn’t they have a conversation instead of his father treating him like a problem that needed to be solved? My grades are as good as they’re going to get. But yeah, there are guys at school who make my life hell. Enough that I don’t want to go anymore.

His father wiped his mouth again and shook his head. You can’t be homeschooled with Gordon. I know you think that sounds like fun, but I promise you his education isn’t as rounded as yours. He certainly won’t be getting into a decent university.

I don’t want to be homeschooled, David said, his voice starting to rise. I just want people to leave me the hell alone!

As starchy as his dad was, he never had been bothered by what his mother used to call foul language. David used it sparingly enough that when he did, his father took notice. I can talk to your teachers if you’d like, he said. No one has the right to pick on you.

It won’t help, David said.

Why not?

Because it’s human nature to hate anything that’s even remotely different.

His father tossed the napkin on his empty plate and sighed. Is this about your sexual orientation?

I don’t know. Maybe. David hated it when he called it that. Sexual orientation sounded so clinical and devoid of emotion. At least his father didn’t have a problem with it, being too logical and pragmatic to have any objections. The truth was, David didn’t know why people hated him. At his school, fag and homo were basic insults used without discretion, but with him, people seemed to mean it more. He wasn’t particularly feminine, nor had he been caught doing anything with another guy, but people assumed he was gay anyway. They were right, of course, which automatically meant he was alone. David didn’t know any other students who were gay, not openly, and what Connor Williams had said earlier was only to mess with Chuck. David was sure of that. People said a lot of crazy things about Connor, but never that he was into guys.

Listen, son, there will always be ignorant people in the world who make life unpleasant for the rest of us. If you want my advice, keep your head down and study hard. Don’t let them distract you from your potential. Make something of yourself. When they’re hauling away garbage from the curb of your house each week, you’ll be glad you didn’t sink to their level.

For his father, the advice wasn’t terrible, but he failed to understand that turning the other cheek would only get David hit on that side as well. Richard was in for a rude awakening. When they sat at this table the next night, he would see the bruises and dried blood. Then he would understand. Maybe tomorrow things would finally get better.

Chapter Two

Connor lit another cigarette and considered the ghostly wisps of smoke surrounding him before reaching over to roll down the passenger-side window. Sitting in the car for the better part of an hour—all of sixth period, in fact—had left the oxygen level dangerously low. In the corner of his eye the school doors opened, the students pouring out. Connor lowered the volume on the radio, the knob coming off like it always did, before he turned his attention to the oncoming crowd.

He saw Chuck leave the building, surrounded by more minions than usual. Connor allowed himself a cocky smile. Chuck could bring all the reinforcements he wanted. It wouldn’t make a difference. When the general was scared, the troops were terrified. Connor leaned the car seat all the way back. Chuck and his lackeys passed without noticing him. They headed for the Chevrolet Suburban that David Henry had been shoved up against yesterday. Chuck even inspected the front for damage, as if needing further justification for his actions, before he turned his attention to the school.

Connor followed his gaze, shifting his seat back up as he searched for the same person. Out the door came David, walking across the parking lot without making an attempt to hide or run. Except he wasn’t feeling brave or planning to make a stand—that much was clear from his body language. His lanky frame was tense with fear, his shoulders hunched, but why? David had a decent build. Standing up straight would make him taller than Chuck, a good advantage in any fight. Instead he played the quintessential victim. Connor supposed the short curly hair didn’t help, since it was a little nerdy. Nor did the full lips that somehow made him appear sensitive, like they had become pink and swollen from reading too much poetry aloud.

Why was David doing this? He wasn’t going to fight, and probably wouldn’t even find brave words, but still he marched forward as if determined to meet his fate. Connor looked back at Chuck and saw his little rat eyes glimmering with excitement. He had probably stayed up all night jerking off over his plans to harass people weaker than him. And here David was, willing to make all his fantasies come true. How could he be so stupid?

Just as he was passing by, Connor stepped out of his car. When David turned to face him, one of his shoes pivoted on a piece of gravel with a sound like a needle dragging across a vinyl record.

Get in the car.

Connor hadn’t meant to say it like that, with irritation and hostility. His anger was intended for Chuck, and he was struggling to keep it in check.

David glanced between him and the group of bullies, weighing his options while clearly torn over which of them was worse. He must have heard about Connor’s past. Not surprising, since there wasn’t a soul in this godforsaken shithole who didn’t whisper the stories as he walked by. Normally it didn’t bother him, but Connor had hoped that David would be the exception. A fellow outcast. Another person too fucked up to fit in anywhere else.

Get in, he tried again, but it wasn’t enough. Connor would have to give him a little more. I have to pick up my brother. He’s in grade school.

David’s brow furrowed, probably in an attempt to reconcile this information with the monster in his mind. One more wary glance toward the bullies finally sealed the deal. David headed for the passenger-side door while Connor kept his eyes on Chuck, making sure he stayed put. And he did, resembling a denied child on the verge of a temper tantrum. Once David was seated, Connor flashed Chuck his biggest smile and got back in the car.

Turning the ignition, he let the engine growl a few times before zipping out of the parking lot. In the rearview mirror he saw Chuck flip him off and smirked, knowing he’d never have the balls to do that to his face.

I don’t live far from here actually, David said, clutching the seat with white knuckles.

Connor slowed to the speed limit so as not to give him a heart attack.

Just a couple of blocks, David tried again, still seeming nervous.

I can’t keep my brother waiting. One detour. Then I’ll take you home.

In truth, he had enough time to drop David off first, but Connor was eager to prove that he was more than what the rumors claimed. If only he could think of something to say. He drummed on the steering wheel, willing his mind to start working.

Sit tight, he managed. We’ll be there soon.

Okay, David said, sounding resigned to his fate. So, um… What kind of car is this?

It’s a nineteen-sixty-eight Chevy Chevelle.

The car was a piece of crap, the paint stripped down to the gray primer. His uncle, the original owner, once had plans to paint the car. Then he married a woman with three kids. With his new minivan life, his uncle sold the Chevelle to him instead. Considering all the rust and engine problems, the car should have been free. Connor couldn’t afford anything better anyway, but at least with an old muscle car, people assumed you were in the process of restoring it.

Are you fixing it up or something?

Right on cue! Yup. Some paint and a little work, and she’ll be as good as new.

Or in the junkyard by the end of the year, but so far the car had held together. The conversation lulled again, so he reached for the radio, only to notice he hadn’t picked the knob off the floor yet. Why was this so hard?

Uh… I’d offer you a cigarette, but we’re almost there. I don’t smoke with my little brother in the car.

I can’t stand the smell of them anyway.

Great.

Not that I mind, David added quickly.

No, you’re right. Nasty habit.

Connor rubbed his chin, wishing he had shaved that morning. Instead he had eaten his bowl of cereal slowly, picturing a situation similar to this one where he and David ended up hanging out the whole afternoon, chatting nonstop as they got to know each other. In his imagination, everything had been perfect. In real life, he couldn’t muster a single damn word.

The blinking school zone sign came into view, which meant they were close to picking up Tommy. Two minutes left to be charming. Now or never!

Fuck, he muttered. Connor glanced in the rearview mirror, not surprised to see that his expression was just as hopeless as David’s. He hit the turn signal and pulled in behind the cars already waiting there. Tommy spotted him and ran down the sidewalk, even though he was supposed to stay by the door. They shared the same green eyes and blonde hair, except Tommy’s—flopping behind him—was still the platinum blond of childhood whereas his own had darkened to gold years ago. Tommy sprinted to the car, a doofy grin on his face that turned to puzzlement when he reached the passenger door.

You have to get out so I can get in, Tommy said with all the tact

Reviews for Kamikaze Boys

[penny01-2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Sweet story.Young love. four stars.

[kassilem · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I didn't like this book as much as I like Jay Bell's other books. Maybe because it was one of his earlier works? Or maybe I'm just enamored with the Something Like series that nothing else can compare to it. I liked these characters but the story seemed to drag just a bit until the last third of the book. For those who don't know, Conner appears in the Something Like Stories, so it was kind of cool to see him now and know how he got to the point he was in that short story. If you enjoy GLBT romance than you'll probably enjoy this one.

[.riley. · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

3.5 stars. Both sweet and sad, but I still got my HEA.

[annalund2011 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

What a ride!
This was an absolutely fantastic exposé on bullies and the ugly company they keep. This is a book that needs to be read by a lot of people. Bullying is one of the plagues of youth, and unfortunately it makes the transition even into adulthood in some people.

This book is about standing up for your friends. Protecting what is right. Cheering for the underdog. (Yeah, that rang ALL my bells!)

As usual, Mr Bell writes some compelling protags, and I was sucked into the storytelling at once. David, our sweet, nerdy young boy, gets a protector from bullies in the form of one huge, scary and scarred Connor, a couple of years his senior.

How this all builds and just works, you will have to read yourself, but let me tell you it had my heart in a twist from the get-go, and it never let me rest until the very end.

Some excerpts? Okay, here:

"David bounced in his seat like a basketball strapped to a kangaroo." How is that for showing, not telling? *gigglesnort* Oh, the language is used in such a delicious way here.

"Someone should establish spas for teenagers where they could get away from their controlling parents or dysfunctional school life for a while." I could not agree more. And I'm so happy Mr Bell defined the 'school' as dysfunctional and the families as 'controlling'. It's such a trope with dysfunctional families, when controlling is what they really are. Top marks.

"...turning the other cheek was likely to get David hit on that side as well." David's thoughts about his father's advice to walk away from fights, and be the bigger person. That is SO much easier from an armchair, daddy dearest.

Too much angst for my poor, fluff-heart, but boy! was this ever a good story. Not much sex, but don't let that scare you away. This is seriously good writing, on the older side of YA, with some sweet sex happening, but not of the erotic kind. It happens because the protags have sex, not because you, the reader, need to read about it. (Did that make any sense?)

Now, to the text itself. I must start with saying that Mr Bell had me already with the dedication
"For Kati, who once saved me from three very nasty bullies, and who has had my back ever since."
There is something so honest about a man remembering a girl who saved him from bullies way back when.

I felt I really got to know these boys, after just a few chapters, and I find I'm still walking around thinking of them now. And I suspect I will keep thinking of them for quite some time.

Well done, Mr Bell. Again. Because what this book has, in spades, is heart.


***
I was NOT asked to read this book by anyone, I paid for it with my own money, as I do for all the books I read, all the music I listen to and the movies I watch