Page 12 of Indigo Sky

Oh my God. Nate.

My best friend came to mind immediately, and I didn't know why. I didn't know that it washishouse on fire, surrounded now by flashing lights and emergency vehicles. I had no reason to be terrified for him instead of whoever's house was engulfed in flames, except that I knew his house was in that direction. The house he shared with his mom and her boyfriend, Jim. If I called right now, I knew his mom would be pissed, but she’d probably answer and snap at me for waking them up, if they weren't already awake from the explosion and the sirens. But she would answer. She would be alive, which only meant Nate would be alive, too, and …

"Oh …" Mom gasped as she turned. "Oh, Dave. Oh my God. Oh my God, Nathan! Oh my God!"

She took off running before Dad or I could see what she was looking at, but she had said his name.

Nathan.

Nate.

And then I saw him. I saw Nate walking toward us. Limping. His skin was dark and shiny beneath the streetlights, but I knew it was him, looking like something out of one of those horror movies we'd watched together. Nate always liked the horror movies. I did, too, but not as much as him, and now, he looked like he belonged in one.

Mom ran to him, her hands hovering over his arms and shoulders. Afraid to touch him, I guessed. Afraid to speak. Afraid to do anything but stare and flap her mouth open and closed like a stupid fish. People all around us were staring at the flames and not at the teenaged boy in the street, covered in blood and whatever else, and I felt dizzy, like the world was spinning. The brick and the bird and the movie we’d watched last night and everything else felt like a lifetime ago.

I walked toward Nate, so scared that he would die. He wasn't supposed to die. He was my best friend—he was myonlyfriend—and he couldn'tdie. Nobody my age had ever died before—nobody I knew anyway—and if he died, who would be my friend then? Nobody wanted to be friends with me.

"Nate …" I wanted to say something else, but I could only whisper his name.

"Nathan, honey, what happened? Oh God, Dave. He needs a hospital. Call 911," Mom said, as if there weren't ambulances and fire trucks two blocks over. "Oh God, someone! Someone, call 911! Nathan, honey, sweetheart, what happened?! Can you tell us? Can you talk?"

Nate didn't answer her though. His eyes—he still had them both, and they were bright white against his blood-soaked face—sought mine.

Then, in a calm, eerie voice, he said, "I didn’t die, Rev. Can I live with you? Your mom can finally be my mom. We can be like real brothers. I’ve always wanted a brother."

CHAPTER FIVE

So, you're probably wondering what happened to Nate's house, right?

Well, in a nutshell, investigators found a pack of cigarettes and a lighter—no, not Nate's. They had belonged to Jim, his mom's boyfriend. That house … keep in mind, I'd never been inside, so it wasn't until during the investigation that we learned just how full of shit it had been. Newspapers, trash, old crap someone had found on the side of the road … the place was packed. So much so that it took weeks of digging through the rubble to find the remains of Nate's mom and Jim.

But Nate hadn't died—he'd been right about that. The hospital said that creepy-as-fuck tone he'd used to talk to me was the result of his shock, and I mean, could anyone blame him? The kid had dragged himself out of a burning house just seconds before the fire reached the propane tank and it fucking exploded. By some miracle, his injuries were minimal, the worst of his burns on his back. He got himself a pretty gnarly-looking scar on his face though from where a piece of shrapnel had hit him, and it pushed us closer together. I guessed that was understandable. I mean, I was a scarred freak, and now, so was he.

He moved in with us after he got out of the hospital, and things just felt right, you know? I thought maybe things would be better. I thought he'd stop being so angry. But …

Well, I can tell you a couple of things for sure.

The bruises stopped. That was one thing that stopped for good.

And I forgot about that bird for a long time.

***

"I don't wanna go back to school," I announced to my parents during dinner one night.

Mom looked at Dad, and they engaged in a silent conversation that probably went something like …

I told you this would happen.

Yeah, well, what can we do?

She sucked in a deep breath as she turned from Dad to swing her gaze to Nate, then finally to me. "Okay. Let me ask you this. Why don't you want to graduate? You have a year left. Can't you just get through it to earn your diploma?"

I shook my head. "I don't care about that. What I wanna do doesn't require a diploma. I just need to get my GED, and I'm good."

"Or you could wait a year for your diploma," Dad suggested.

"What is it you want to do?" Mom asked, tipping her head and giving me her full attention.

---