𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐇// 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐗𝐎𝐂

𝐥𝐢. ✭ 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐏

APRIL 7, 1982; S.J.
8:00-8:07 a.m.

"Morning class." Mr. Hudson greeted us like he usually did every morning, with a mouthful of donut he had bought at the closest coffee shop. He snacked on a maple one that day, sitting casually on his desk while he drank his coffee.

The guy liked it black, finely roasted, with minimal sugar. Sometimes he'd send kids, including me, to the teacher's lounge to fetch him a new cup.

"Morning." We chorused back to him, unzipping our bags, cracking open our copies of Lord Of The Flies, and chatting idly with our friends.

I fiddled with my gnawed-on pencil, flipping it in between my fingers. Eighth grade bit and so did I, my teeth taking out their middle school frustrations with my thin stick of Ticonderoga. My mom always said I started changing when I was about fourteen. Getting aggressive, strong, angry. You could call it whatever. All of those descriptors were synonymous.

"Weekend plans, weekend plans." Mr. Hudson said in a sing-song lilt. He was halfway through his maple bar when the freaky kid came in, dressed in dark baggy clothes like usual. The classroom door slammed behind him, cutting off the spring breeze. "Mr. Steeeady Eddie, nice of you to join us."

"Sorry, Mr. Hudson." The kid mumbled, shoving a late slip into his hand as he passed by him. Eddie stalked his way through the classroom until he found his seat across from me at our table. Andy and Aspen were absent from our group that day, leaving us with only each other and my buddy Jason.

Mr. Hudson clapped his hands together, calling our attention once more. "Come on guys. What did you do this past weekend? I mean it was Easter, wasn't it?" He locked eyes with me, teacher eyes, the kind of fickle gaze that twinkles when it's decided to make you its victim. "Mr. S.J., how about you?"

"Me?" I raised a brow, my pencil twiddling froze. Mr. Hudson nodded, wiping his hands off on each other to rid himself of his remaining donut crumbs. "Shit, I don't know. Saw family I guess. My grandma came into town, cousin, and like my great uncle Ernie too."

"Excellent." My teacher grinned, taking a sip of his coffee. The bitter aroma filled the air, wafting to my nose. Mr. Hudson's teacher eyes skated off of me and fell onto Lena de la Cruz. I was free from his scrutiny. "Miss Lena, how about you kid?"

I resumed my pencil tapping, my thumb running down the surface of the yellow wooden slats. Paging open my book, I poked around curiously to where I had last left off. That's when I heard him.

"Hey, Stargrove." He called out to me in a whisper. "Psst, S.J." I lifted my nose from my copy's weathered pages, dreading having to address the weirdo across from me. Eddie was leaning forward, his body pressed against the table. The cover of his copy of Lord Of The Flies had been torn in half and haphazardly taped back together.

"What?"

The boy ran a hand across his buzzed scalp. His thinking was dented across his face. I impatiently watched his lips twist. Then finally, his muddy eyes got the gull to meet mine.

"How is she?"

"Huh?" I squinted at him, trying to figure out what his stupid deal was. "Who's she? Who are you talking about, Munson?"

"Chance, your cousin." He answered, grazing his fingers over his desecrated English book. "You said she came to visit for Easter? She still here?"