“do it,” said jeff. “i want to know what it feels like.”
i’m holding an empty shotgun aimed at his chest. he’s daring me, he’s been daring me for the past half hour. the party is raging. his folks are out of the country in Sayulita.
i consider him. a shock of blond hair hangs over his forehead. clear skin, blue eyes with spiky white eyelashes. one of his eyes is irregular, a dark blue starburst. his neck is a tanned column encircled by puca beads. at 15, he’s beautiful and damaged.
i pull the trigger.
his pupils dilate then constrict. “you did it.”
“shit, you’ve got balls. no one else pulled the trigger. do it again.”
jeff shrugs and gives a grimace, like he’s got a secret.
“it’s empty, right?”