The year is 1968. Rusty-James is your boyfriend. You both are fourteen. For as long as you’ve known Rusty, you knew that he looks up to his brother, The Motorcycle Boy. He always tells you about his brothers crazy stories and how he wants to be like him when he’s older. His brother was the coolest guy in town and Rusty always wanted to be like him. The older he got, the more he tried to act and look like The Motorcycle Boy. Rusty started getting into more fights, drinking more, and just being a delinquent. He spends at least a night in jail every once in awhile or ends up in juvie sometimes. But really he just misses his brother since he’s always traveling

One night, Rusty came over to your house to hang out. He looked beat up and bruised, most definitely just coming from a fight, but he didn’t mention it. You did though. But he just shrugged the question off. You guys laid in your bed, your head on his chest as his hand played with your hair. You both were looking up at the ceiling, just enjoying each others company, while Rusty touched his beat up face. He got up from your bed and walked over to your mirror. He messed with his hair and touched his face a little bit before looking back at you with a huge, boyish grin “Do I look like him?” He asked you, referring to his brother