On Teen Angst in Paradise

Innocence comes in a variety of guises. I have just finished reading, Clay's Way, by Blair Mastbaum. A story of Teen crisis set in Hawaii, it's sort of Holden Caufield meets, Song of the Loon. The main characters are called Clay and Sam. The ironies were not lost to me, but were not the main reason I enjoyed the story. Here are just a few of the choice sentences:

page 4:

I strap my backpack on, drop my board on the street, and skate off, passing houses like a bullet. People couldn't see me if they tried. I'm just a blur. I don't want people thinking that they understand me or can get a handle on me from what I'm wearing or my haircut or anything like that.

page 5:

I skate up to the pizza place to meet Jared to buy pot. I'm nervous 'cause I don't want to have any uncomfortable conversation with some surfer to get it. I wish there was a drive-through where you could just hand the twenty to the guy and get the pot in a paper bag.

page 6:

Board intimidates me. Most skaters are assholes. They think they're the center of the world. I do too, I guess.

page 9:

I'm afraid to talk to Clay or even look at him. I've beaten off to him more times than I can count.
He'll be able to tell.

page 11:

I was hoping he'd set it to four hours or maybe there's a switch you can flip to make it say ETERNITY---and make everyone else freeze so we could be alone together. I'd be the only human left moving, so he'd have to like me.

page 15:

The sun's really hot. I sweat and smell myself, and I think about the same kind of smells on Clay's body---which really makes me want to jerk off. I stand up and walk to my next-door neighbor's shed thinking like a criminal, controlled by his dick. The door's open. Cool.

page 16:

I caused this. My ejaculation was so powerful it fucked with our whole plane of existence.

page 19:

Not that I liked her before, but she's meaningless now that I have Clay. I don't even need food or air anymore.

page 21:

I think it's disgusting that I'm related to them. They envy dudes that own yachts but don't have any books on the shelves.

page 82:

I smoke yet another bowl out of some hippie pipe I found out skating and I'm way too stoned to stay inside. My room starts to feel like a teenage prison.

His truck's not there. Susan's blue Toyota is parked in front and a car I've never seen is parked beside hers ---in Clay's spot. The car is annoying-looking. It's too sensible. It looks like a car that a nurse or social worker would drive.
It's Tammy's.

Page 87:

My heart races faster than I've ever felt it. My impulse is to jump out of the closet, rip that girl's hand off Clay, throw her across the room, and mutilate her. I want this girl out of here and back into the part of my brain that only dreaded this actually happening. I want her fucking hands off Clay before I go insane.

page 90:

I get up and stretch my legs. I open my pack and steal some pot from his dealer-boy drawer and take a couple of his wife-beaters and a pair of his boxers, just in case I never see him again and he gets stolen into Tammy World for all eternity.

page 148:

I'm probably imagining all of this. My mind goes crazy when I'm alone.