He doesn’t really look at me in the eye. He seems quite bored.

What does it mean.

It means he’s scared to death.

Attitude is only attitude.

“Gotta light.”

I always gotta light.

It seems infinitesimally small. But it’s something.

But it’s something.

But you gotta give the kid credit where credit is probably not due.

He just gave you a stepping stone into his world.

Stop being so fucking Goody Two Shoes. He’s going to smoke that cigarette whether anyone likes it or not.

He’s not asking for your approval.

He doesn’t need your approval. Or your permission.

He’s not asking for anyone’s approval because he knows he’ll never get it. Not in a thousand years.

“Thank you.” He never says thank you but you’re not supposed to know that yet.

“You’re welcome.”

“I could blow this smoke up your ass.”

Ignore his shit.

“They’re going to rape you in prison.”

There will be a pause. This was the kind of twisted thing he was supposed to say. Not me.

He blows the smoke from his cigarette in my face. “I know,” he says.

Just nod.

“I been raped before. In detention. You get over it.”

“Not,” I say. Another pause.

“Not,” he says. He thinks the world is against him because the world is against him. And the truth is that he will be raped in prison. It’s just not a truth any adult wants to talk about with him.

He’s going to prison. He knows.

The same people who raped him in detention will rape him in prison.

I light my own cigarette.

“What was it like when you were a kid.” He’s really asking if you ever got caught and what were the consequences because he knows that consequences are about time and place.

“Sometimes we were allowed to play outside the cave.”

He never laughs. Ever.

“Rape hurts.”

There are a thousand different people who have written a thousand different reports about this kid. They all say the same thing.

He will not communicate.

Fuck their bullshit.

Rape hurts is solid communication.

“I don’t wanna go to prison.”

Now we’re talking.