Page 66 of The Sun
And I just loved Sunny. It was a shit feeling to realize the love of my life didn’t love me anymore.
Judah came out from his room clutching a crumpled Cheeto’s bag. He flopped down in the recliner and stuffed his mouth full of the disgusting puffs. “You laid McClure out because he’s dipping his wick in your girl, huh?”
“Not my fault he doesn’t know how to take a hit.” I flipped the channel.
Judah snorted. “Did you feel better afterward?”
“What do you think?”
“I think if I were McClure and my girl was staring at you the way she does, I’d beat your ass.”
“He couldn’t beat my ass if he wanted to.”
Judah wiped orange dust over his undershirt. “Still. I’d try. Hey!” Pointing at the TV, he sat up with crumbs falling out of his mouth. “Go back. That was the Yo quiero dog.”
I chucked the remote at him and rolled over on the couch while he recited the commercial, laughing like an idiot. “God, I hope you get a scholarship for football because you aren’t getting one for your brain.”
“Suck my dick, Elias.”
The back door opened and closed, but I didn’t look up.
“Dude?” Judah said. “Is that blood?”
That made me flip over. Atlas stood between the kitchen and living room, his brow furrowed and his shirt covered in reddish-brown smears.
“Atlas?”
He sank to the couch, elbow to knee and hands combing through his hair. “Radcliffe is in some deep shit.”
18
Sunny
“Ihate these bleachers.” Daisy wiggled on the metal bench. “Why do we have an assembly on a Tuesday anyway?”
Assemblies, when they happened, occurred on Mondays. Pep Rallies took place on Fridays. “Maybe some D.A.R.E. presentation?” I said, even though I knew that wasn’t true because my dad would have been ranting about it for days prior. Deep down, I knew it was something bad, and I wanted to live in that naïve world I had once frolicked in as a child. The one where nothing terrible happened and all the bad guys covered their faces with ski masks.
Daisy shot to her feet, waving her hand around, shouting for Ben.
Neither Ben or Brandon smiled when they maneuvered their way through the overcrowded gymnasium.
“Jesus, who died?” Daisy mumbled and scooted to the side to make room for the boys.
They plopped down. Brandon interlocked his hands behind his head then leaned over his spread knees. He looked like someone about to walk the green mile.
I stared at him, but he wouldn’t look at me. “What’s going on?”
He opened his mouth and twisted his tongue a few times like he was rolling the words around. Then he shook his head which only added to the vortex of anxiety swirling through my body.
I tugged on Brandon’s sleeve, dipping my chin to look in his eyes. “Brandon?”
The ear-splitting screech of feedback from the speakers caused a unified groan.
Principal Davis stood center court in his navy suit, a grim frown on his face. The paper he held in his hand shook, and somehow, I knew what this assembly was about.
“Travis?” I whispered.
Brandon swallowed.
