My Blood Feet

By William Goldstein

Virgil, Thomas, and me took the European sports car and left
the desert. We drove fast and didnÊt get pulled over, which
is good because the car is really expensive, and I think Virgil was
worried about such a nice car getting ruined on the I-10 before
we got to where we were going.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456882341

William Goldstein

Born and raised in Scottsdale, Arizona, Will attended the University of Arizona where he studied Media Arts and Film Production. He’s now pursuing an M.F.A. in Film Production at the University of Southern California’s School of Cinematic Arts. He lives in LA.

Book preview

SAM AND SCOUT

It’d been thirty minutes since we pulled into the driveway at Virgil’s mansion. Thomas and I had already finished our beers and we were sweating in the backseat of Virgil’s European sports car, because the desert’s even hot at night, Virgil told me. He knows because he used to drive past American-made cars on the freeway and in neighborhoods during the nighttime, just to prove to people that he could drive a stick shift and smoke a joint at the same time. No one ever bothered him though. And I think that’s what frustrated him most.

How much longer? Thomas asked stoically. I told him I didn’t know. This was Virgil’s idea and he was never good with planning. I’d actually be worried if he had some kind of itinerary, because that would mean he thought through this endeavor. If that was the case, he could get in even more trouble because then it would be obvious that this whole night was premeditated.

He’d wanted to kidnap Sam and Scout for a few years now. He said his parents don’t know how to take care of them because they’re always eating pills that were yellow mostly, but sometimes they were blue or red. One night, Virgil, who’s very thin and is really cool because he likes to wear tight jeans and fedoras and eat organic food, caught his mom and dad with no food in the pantries. Sam and Scout were scared, he told us, and they needed to be saved because if they weren’t, they might accidentally get into the red or yellow pills since there was nothing in the fridge.

It’s almost dawn, Thomas told me, looking at his cell and then out the window at the horizon. I know. He should be out any minute. Thomas is always worried. He’s kind of like me in that way. We always liked to think about Scottsdale as a collapsing spiral of domestic yelling and lots of lonely, gangling streetlights that looked like they wanted to cry a lot, and normal-sized office buildings that didn’t glow in the empty desert sunlight and always imploded with the beeps and telephone-ringing pollution that made people with fancy watches and company cars fragile and always wilting.

Virgil never understood this about Thomas and me. He’s always been laid back because he smokes expensive cigarettes and always has lots of pot. Really good pot too. And he likes to say rebellious things to people with middle-class jobs and nice families that have comfy things like fireplaces and outside refrigerators. Thomas doesn’t understand why Virgil acts like he does, considering he’s rich and has a lot of outdoor fridges. But it’s okay because we’re all friends, the three of us.

Virgil is like the cool bad guy that walks with a stride and doesn’t care about assignment due dates or curfews. Thomas is the girl’s guy, and he doesn’t even try that hard. He’s a big guy, not like strong-big, but more like chubby-big, but he’s a Tongan guy and that’s why he’s so big and really tan. I’m pretty strong though. I lift weights and weigh 100 pounds, and I’m proud of that. Even Virgil told me I was in good shape for someone like me who’s always going to lots of doctors. Talking doctors though, not real doctors with stethoscopes that tell you to say ‘Aaahhh.’ Thomas thinks I don’t have to go to those kinds of doctors because they will only make me confused and even more scared of being normal like in-state colleges. But my dad tells me that if I don’t talk with these fake doctors and get prescription refills that I could end up being a very bad person who thinks bad things and frightens other people. So I go a few times a week and really try to tell the truth and be honest, but a lot of times I get dizzy and have to catch my breath and think about the time when everything will all be okay.

He’s coming. I see him. I said to Thomas, but he’d fallen asleep and he snores pretty loud. I didn’t say anything else and waited for Virgil to open his driver’s side door. He pushed Sam and Scout into the passenger seat. They barely fit.

I leaned forward with a pretty cool grin and petted them and they kept trying to lick my face because they know my smell and like me because I secretly give them treats when Virgil isn’t around. It’s easy to do. They’re pretty big. I think Virgil told me they’re black labs, and they’re both boy-dogs that are close brothers because they have the same black lab mom.

Where are we taking them? I asked quietly because I didn’t want to wake Thomas. Virgil lit a cigarette, rolled the window down and started to drive before he answered me. Away from here.

I nodded and sat back in my seat, listening to the dogs panting over and over with excitement. You don’t have any of those appointments anymore, do you? Virgil asked. I had told him a few weeks ago that I stopped going to the fake doctors because I was all better and didn’t get dizzy anymore. But I said that because we were talking with these popular girls after school and I didn’t want to say, Oh, I have to leave now to go to a not-doctor and take my special medicines. So I