Page 31 of Catch the Sun

Stupid arms.

It’s his fault I’m always noticing them, considering he’s prone to wearing sleeveless tops. Winter can’t come soon enough. Out of sight, out of mind.

I crack my window halfway and lean out over the ledge, inhaling theearly-morning breeze filled with dew-kissed grass and earthy soil. I’ve been trying to avoid Max since the bonfire, which is kind of a dick move, I realize. I also realize it wasmewho broached the friendship topic in the first place, so I can’t blame him for making an effort.

But then he called me pretty.

He…flirted.

And my anti-romance instincts flared like a well-shaken can of Dr Pepper on a hot day. Unpredictable and abrupt, leaving a messy aftermath that no one really wants to clean up. Dramatic, I suppose. But my defenses are nothing if not stubborn and thorough.

Max pops his head up then, spotting me dangling out my half-open window. He pulls the cap off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taming the coffee-brown locks. I don’t move away when our eyes meet across both yards. I don’t smile or wave either, but I don’t want to be too much of an asshole.

Max stares at me for a few beats before glancing down and kicking at the loose gravel in his driveway.

And when he lifts his eyes one more time, a small smile shines back at me.

At first, I want to slam the window shut and run away. I want to glare at him for no reason just because it’s easier that way.

But then the bonfire flashes through my mind. The Dr Pepper he brought for me. The way he defended my honor when Andy acted like a cretin. The way his blue eyes shimmered with fire and moonlight as he looked at me with something other than disgust. It was nice to feel like my existence mattered to him in some way. I wasn’t a burden or a waste of space. I wasn’t an outsider.

He saw that same little girl on a playground from long ago.

Most of all, he saw me as something other than Jonah Sunbury’s sister.

So I smile back, hesitantly, softly. It’s not a full-fledged grin, but it’s a real smile. It’s effort.

It counts.

Then I inch away from the window and finish getting ready for school, doing my best to ignore the tickle in my chest.

***

I’m midchew when I hear it.

The grating, awful sound of my own voice. Sobbing. Begging. Choking through a waterfall of love-drenched tears.

“H-he’s not a b-bad person, I swear. He’s good. It was a misunderstanding. Please, please. Believe him. He’s my big brother… You have to believe he’s innocent.”

The corn bread turns to rocks in my mouth. Dry, hard, bitter lumps. Crumbs flutter from my parted lips as my stomach drops out of me like a boulder.

I feel sick. I might actually puke.

“Look at this loser defending a monster,” a voice sneers from the adjacent table, belonging to some no-name girl. Students swarm to watch the video and the cafeteria morphs into a prison cell.

Bars close me in. Guards pace back and forth, eyeing me with revulsion.

Guilty.

For a few seconds, I pretend to ignore the commotion going on beside me. Pretend I’m blissfully unaware of my pain being laid out on display and mocked by my senior class. Sitting alone like I always do, I attempt to chew the corn-bread gravel in my mouth and swallow it, hoping it doesn’t sever anything vital as it slogs down my throat.

“Hey! Sunbury.”

I pull my beanie down over my ears. Maybe everyone will think I have earbuds in and they’ll give up. There’s no fun in tormenting someone if the victim is oblivious.

The act is up sooner than I’d like.

My beanie is yanked off my head and tossed to the dirty linoleum.

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