Page 7 of Toxic Wishes

“Ya, Colt's mom is….well, she’s been great. He doesn’t need a dad like me. He’s had a real parent—someone to care for him his whole life. I, on the other hand, have been dragged all over the place with my mom. I mean, I can’t complain too much because it beats being in a foster home. I’ll take living in a raggedy apartment over staying in a home with kids no one wants.”

“Ya, I don’t blame you there. Lots of them get raped too.”

“Exactly, and as long as my grades are good, and I’m alive, my brother and dad assume everything is just peachy, as they should. I don’t want to worry them with teenage mundane problems.”

“Right” I nodded slowly, letting him know I understood completely.. He didn’t want to worry them with his presence, just like I didn’t want to worry mine. We both fell silent, I continued to stare at my cookie when I finally asked,“So tomorrow at what time? And it can’t be really late. My mom will freak, and so will my dad.”

“They don’t let you go anywhere?”

“Not on a school night?” I lied. I’m sure they wouldn’t care much, but I was a little nervous. I never hung out with boys, let alone anyone after school.

“Okay, how about Friday? We can stay up late and make musica.” He says it with a spanish-rockstar accent.

“Even then, I can only be out till…well, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Don’t you ever go to a friend's house on the weekends?”

I lower my gaze.

“Abs?”

I lift my eyes to meet his again. “I don’t have friends. The only girls I hang out with are my sister and cousins. But they are a little older than me, so hanging out with a sophomore is considered lame.” I say using air quotes. “So they don’t include me in much anymore.”

“Okay, well then it’s settled. After you meet the guys, we’ll throw a party soon.”

“A party?”

“Ya, that thing where people get drunk, do stupid shit, and have sex in random rooms.”

“Right, ya. A party. Cool.” My nerves start to get the best of me, so I pop some gum in my mouth to move a part of my body.

He throws his blunt on the grass, stepping on it. “We better get back to class. Give me your phone.”

I hand it to him, and he holds up his fingers with his tongue in the middle, and snaps a photo.

Then he types what I assume is his phone number and hands it back to me.

“Here,” he stretches his arm out. I take it from him. “Text me so I know where to pick you up.”

And before I can say anything, he starts walking backward.

“And bring your A-game Abs.” he smiles before turning around and walking away. My heart was thumping a million miles a minute when I looked down at the photo he snapped. Blake Killian put a picture in my phone with his phone number.

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3

Blake

“Love is friendship set to music”-Jackson Pollock

Abigail had the voice of a freaking angel.

I will fly away before they break me. Take me. I don’t know where my soul is. But I won’t let them break me, take me. I will never give up. Never give up. Never give up on me.

I listened to the song we recorded three nights ago for what felt like the 100th time. I couldn’t get enough of her voice or words. That timid girl dies, and It’s like a whole new person came to life when she sang.

Brooks, Duke, Edison, and I were broken kids who found each other four years ago and created our band, the Fallen Angels, but now Abigail made it feel complete.

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