Solar

Chapter 2

     "Get out!" I shouted and leaped out and as far away from the car as possible. I rolled across the pavement, smacking my head against the concrete. Not a second after I made contact with the ground, a large wave of heat engulfed the air around me. It singed my skin everywhere for several long seconds, then it simmered away. My head throbbed as I slowly lifted myself to my hands and knees, groaning in pain. Something warm trickled down the center of my forehead and trailed down the bridge of my nose. I turned my head to look at Leroy's c- Leroy!

     I moved as quickly as I possibly could; jumping to my feet and struggling to the other side of the bonfire that the car had turned into. Leroy lay curled up against the pavement, groaning as he lifted his head. There was a large cut on his cheek but otherwise, he seemed okay.

     "Oh, thank God," I cried out, falling to my knees and crawling over to him. I collapsed next to him, breathing heavily. "Are you okay?"

     He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled onto his back, rubbing his hands over his face in despair. "My car..."

     I leaned over and removed his hands from his face with my own, wincing a bit in pain as my head only began to throb worse. "Don't touch your face, Leroy. You're bleeding. You could get the wound infected."

     He opened his eyes and looked at me. "You're bleeding too."

     "I'll be fine. Yours is worse. We need to get..." I groaned involuntarily. Speaking made the unbearable migraine worse.

     "Stop talking." He winced as he raised himself to his feet. He offered his hand to me and I took it gratefully. "Let's get you home."

     I didn't argue as we began walking towards my street. We tried to call Leroy's parents but his phone wouldn't turn on either. It, too, eventually set itself on fire. We stopped to talk to several witnesses to the strange car situation along the way but none of them seemed to have any answers either. Nobodies electronic anythings were working, meaning that no one had any way to get in touch with anyone else. The purple haze in the sky was growing, its red and orange strands growing along with it. The nucleus like dot in the middle was about the size of the sun in the sky now.

     We arrived at my house a while after (it wasn't very far but the constant stopping to help people out of cars or looking for help lengthened the time dramatically). The neighborhood had two crashed cars but other than that and a couple of curious wanderers, everything seemed perfectly normal. Leroy and I walked through the yard and onto the front porch of my house. Other than no signs of electrically fueled lighting, it looked fine. We approached the front door and I almost rang the doorbell but then remembered that it probably wasn't going to work. I knocked on the door and almost immediately, my mother opened it. She exclaimed and embraced me in a tight hug. "Oh, Bridgette, we were so worried! I would have called you but my phone isn't working! Nothing is working. The lights, the TV, the radio, everything electronic is down."

     She released me and, just as I feared, her gaze fell upon the small gash on my forehead. "Bridgette!" she shrieked. "My baby is hurt! GEORGE!"

     Papa came rushing to the door and his eyes widened. "Cha-"

     "No time, George," Mama snapped. "Look at her forehead! Get the first aid kit before it gets infected."

     But Papa was gone before she could finish the first sentence. Mama's eyes flickered over to Leroy and her brow furrowed a bit. She pulled me closer and strained a smile, her eyelid twitching as if she were being personally offended. "Thank you for returning Bridgette home, Leroy. Goodbye."

     Mama slammed the door in his face just as his mouth opened to say something. "Mama! He helped me a lot, the least you could do is stitch him up a bit," I hissed, annoyed at her unwarranted hatred for my best friend. She created a sundae with a long, overdramatic eyeroll, drizzled it in the classic head loll, then topped it all off with a heaving sigh, and opened the door.

                                                                                             ~*~

     "Thanks for the help, Mrs. Baker," Leroy said awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. Mama simply faked a smile and entered the kitchen with Papa. I sat on the couch next to Leroy and studied the bandaging on his cheek.

     "I don't think your mother likes me very much..." he mumbled, rubbing a finger over the white bandage sealed to his skin.

     "How could you tell?" I asked genuinely, awkwardly scratching the back of my neck. He motioned towards the kitchen with his head. Papa was washing the dishes as Mama stared, brows furrowed and eyes slanted, at the two of us, slowly stirring and then taking a sip of a martini. I moved my gaze back to Leroy and we locked eyes. Laughter erupted from both of our mouths but our amusement was quickly interrupted by a loud knock on the front door. Everyone froze and turned their heads towards the entrance hallway, an eery silence filling the air. I turned my head to the kitchen to see what my parents were going to do. My mother looked at my father, who then turned the sink off and looked around at us. His shoes tapped and echoed against the wood floor as he walked through the kitchen, then the living room, and approached the entrance hallway. There was a tension in the air only the recent events could cause as Papa slowly opened the front door and cautiously peered out.

     "Kate!" Papa exclaimed. Mama gasped and swiftly made her way to the door.

     "Kate, dear!" Mama's honey-like voice seeped joy as she reached her arms out to embrace our youth pastor. I jumped up from the couch and dashed towards the front door with excitement. Kate served at the youth nights our church held on Wednesday nights and she had always been my favorite. She was so kind and funny and she always made you feel welcome, even in the strangest environments. Not only that, but she was gorgeous. Her auburn hair framed her heart-shaped jawline perfectly and every shadow on her face complimented her bright green eyes.

     Kate's smile grew as I ran forward to hug her as a child would a life-size teddy bear on Christmas Day. She returned the embrace with equal enthusiasm, plus her usual shoulder squeeze as we parted. We invited her in and Mama led her to the living room, where Leroy was wiping a smudge off of his Air Jordan 34's. Kate greeted Leroy and we all sat around the coffee table. We made gentle small talk and shared our speculations on the happenings of the day, but a couple of minutes into the conversation, Kate turned to Leroy and I with an apologetic smile as she asked to speak to my parents alone.

     "Why don't you go into the kitchen and make some tea, Bri?" Mama suggested. Leroy and I shared a glance before rising and making our way across the hallway and into the kitchen. The hushed voices of Kate and my parents floated their way into the kitchen as I pulled a box of Lipton out of the cabinet.

     "Are you good, bro?" Leroy asked, his signature arched brow digging for answers. It suddenly came to my attention that my eyebrows had been furrowed and my hand was fidgeting with the string bracelet on my left wrist. I let my face relax and placed two tea bags in a filter. "I'm fine, dude," I replied with a teasingly agitated tone in my voice. "I think you should be less worried about me and more worried about your shoes." I raised my finger and flicked some coffee grounds left in the filter onto his basketball shoes.

     "Oh my God!" he shouted, steam practically spraying from his ears. "You are impossible, Bridgette Baker! These are brand new Air Jordan 34's! They're rated 4.9 stars and cost $185, you moron!"

     He stormed off to the bathroom to wipe the one coffee ground off of his most prized possession, and though I snickered, the victory wasn't as awarding as usual. Probably because although he wasn't that emotionally involved in anything, he was right. There was a tension in the living room that could be felt in the kitchen, though no words were audible over the running tap water. Something about the urgent tone of the whispers bugged me, but certainly not more than the ever-lingering curiosity of what information they could contain. My parents and Kate had always been trusting of me and knew that I could handle "grown-up talks." The curiosity and frustration of not being included itched at me, an irritation that I simply dismissed to the back of my mind as I rinsed out the coffee pot. They were probably just discussing their theories on what was behind the haze in the sky or how the lack of electricity was going to affect sermons anyway.

     I wasn't able to get too deep into thought before the searing pain coursed throughout my body.