Page 5 of The Boy Who Loved Wicked
Mr. Sanders passed away almost a year ago, and his house, which was directly behind mine, had been abandoned ever since. Danny’s dad took to mowing the lawn to keep it from becoming an eyesore in the neighborhood. “Yeah, it looks like the moving company was charged with getting things set up. From what I could see through the windows on the first floor, everyone going in and out wore the same yellow ‘The Movers’ t-shirt.”
Danny dumped us off at the corner of our street; he needed to get back to serve out his after school detention. “Already, Danny? It’s the first day.”
He and I lived across from each other. Theory lived a block over. We got out and watched as he sped off.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You haven’t said much since we left school. I mean, I’d never call you a man of many words, not unless those words involved some old-ass ancient great whatevers, but I wouldn’t call you mute either.” She tugged on her modest top that she’d snuck back into after school.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking, I guess.”
“Is this about what Danny said?”
I gave her an empty stare, tucking my thumbs between my backpack straps.
“Him pressuring you to find someone? You started acting super weird after that.”
“Hmm, maybe.” I honestly didn’t notice I’d been acting differently. My thoughts had been preoccupied with this morning’s lesson, finally being able to engage with someone like-minded on a subject I considered the air that I breathed. I hadn’t had that since my dad.
“Don’t listen to him,” she said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “The right one will come along when you least expect it.”
“Thanks.” I snickered, slinging an arm over her shoulder and bringing our foreheads together.
“You’re so mushy,” she complained, pushing me away, giggling. “The guy who wins your heart will be one lucky devil, Phoenix Michaelson.” Her voice faded with each step.
I looked forward to finding someone, to singing out of tune, to rolling in the grass again.
“Mom!” I shouted entering the front door. “I’m home!” No signs of life downstairs, and upstairs her bedroom was empty. She was gone when I woke up that morning too.
In the kitchen, a purple sticky note on the fridge door caught my eye. “Working another overnight shift. Vegetable lasagna in the fridge.”I sighed, strolling back to the hall to scoop my backpack off the floor and, after confirming I’d left the door unlocked for Danny, I trudged up to my room.
At a certain point, I stopped expecting my mom to be different. Dad would’ve wanted that. I allowed her to love me the only way she knew how, while I pretended to accept it. Plus, I was practically a man. I’d save my mommy issues for my mid-life crisis.
I sat at my desk and fired up my computer, then pulled my textbooks out of my backpack, stopping to examine my dad’s copy ofMoby-Dick.I carried it everywhere like a security blanket. It never captured my attention like any of his other books, and I couldn’t say I’d ever gotten through a chapter without napping in between, but Dad swore by it.
“It’s not something you race to finish,” he’d said. “It’s a voyage that you must pace yourself through so as to not miss the gems along the way.”
I didn’t get it then, and I barely comprehended it now, but I found pleasure in trying to understand the parts of Dad’s brain I couldn’t tap into before. God, I wished we could have just one more conversation. I’d ask the important stuff. The stuff that would carry me through life’s inevitable twists and turns. I’d come out to him, and he’d tell me I was brave and not to hide myself for anyone. He’d probably say something a lot deeper but it would carry the same message.
A couple hours later, the sound of something hitting my bedroom window stole my attention. I pushed it open in time to get hit in the face with the next incoming pebble. “Ow!” I rubbed my cheek and poked my head out. “What the hell, Danny?”
He stood in my mother’s flower bush wearing a wince. “Sorry, I’d always wanted to try that. Like in the classic ’80s filmSay Anythingwhen Lloyd showed up to Diane’s house and threw rocks at her window to get her attention.” He shrugged.
“I’m pretty sure he showed up holding a blaring boombox over his head,” I said, wondering if I needed ice.
“Huh. Interesting. How did I forget that?”
“The front door is open.” I closed the window and inspected my face.
Danny barged in. “Dude, whatever you do, don’t break the laws of Denwin High. Jail time is rough, and you’d never make it on the inside.” He perched at the end of my bed, grabbingMobyand flipping through the pages with no interest before handing it to me with disgust written on his face.
“You’re such an exaggerator,” I laughed. Something about him was different. “You changed your clothes.” He now wore a neon green tracksuit, the kind that sounded like the rustling of plastic bags when you walked.
He ran a hand down the front of the jacket self-consciously. “Ah, yeah. This is my loungewear.”
“Yourloungewear?” My lips twitched.
