One: The First Day of Summer

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𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴: 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
-

"Happy birthday, Ian." Fiona says, dropping two big pancakes onto my plate and affectionately rubbing my head. "Are you sure that you're going to be okay here alone? I can still take the day off."

I shake my head and write something down.

You can't.

Fiona crosses her arms and sighs. With a slow nod, she says, "You're right, I can't. Sorry." she walks back over to the kitchen and begins cleaning up the dishes.

"You know, Lip called and said that he's coming down from college so you two can hang out. Carl, Debbie, and Liam are at Kev and V's, having a playdate with the twins."

I nod.

"You'll be fine, right?" she asks again.

I offer her a warm smile to aid some of her concerns, which she returns before grabbing her purse and  rushing out the door. "Bye, Ian!" Then the door shuts behind her.

I stand up and look out the window, watching as she gets into some car I haven't seen before, then wait until she drives off before I put my uneaten plate on the counter and leave.

I walk down the street with no particular destination in mind, counting the amount of steps I take. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sev—

"Kid, get out of the street!" someone shouts, causing me to turn around and notice the line of cars that formed behind me. Swiftly, I move out of the way and allow them to pass by. When I turn around again, I'm faced with a disheveled homeless man.

"Ian!" he exclaims.

I roll my eyes.

"My favorite son." Frank puts his arm around my neck and walks with me. "What are you now, 15??"

I shake my head.

"16?" he asks.

I push him away and stop walking. Taking out my notepad, I angrily scribble something on the paper.

FUCK OFF!

Frank scoffs. "You'll regret being so mean to me when I'm dead." he says, then he disappears down the street. I take a deep breath and continue walking, turning the corner, I'm faced with another disheveled man, except this time that man is... Mickey Milkovich?

I nearly start to run away from him but I'm frozen in fear.

"Hi.." He says. Something about him is different. Right, he's not beating the shit out of me!

I stare at him.

"I just moved back in for the summer."

I stare.

"Look, Ian, I know that we've had our differences but I'm not who I was when I left. I'm.." He trails off, avoiding eye contact, "...I'm sorry."

The second he says this, I crack up laughing. He looks as me with confusion and I simply walk away. Sorry? He's sorry? That's the funniest thing I've heard all day.

After walking for a few seconds, I realize that Mickey is following behind me, cashing me to walk faster. I start to think that maybe he plans on pulling a knife out and stabbing me or throwing me in an alley and mugging me. I stop walking and pull my notepad out, writing something.

What?!

Mickey reads it aloud and squints. "What? You don't talk anymore?" He asks. "What's with that?"

You didn't know?

Mickey shakes his head. "No, I've been.. out of town for months, I didn't know. What happened?"

This takes me back to when it all started. When everybody would ask that question: "What happened? What happened?" I couldn't answer then and I can't answer now.

Plus, this is Mickey we're talking about. He doesn't deserve to know. So, I scribble a poorly drawn middle finger and storm away.

"Ian!" He calls after me. "Wait!" I don't stop walking until he yells something else,"Happy birthday!" 

I immediately write something while Mickey, out of breath, catches up to me.

How do you know it's my birthday?

He reads and then pauses. "It's the first day of summer. Who could ever forget that?"

A faint smile tugs at the corner of my lips but I'm sure to get rid of it.

Okay, apologize. I write.

"For what?" He asks. "I just said that I was sorry."

Apologize for everything.

I can see something in his eyes shift as he reads what I wrote. He lowers his head and whispers something that I can't hear, then he looks back up and snatches the notepad and pen out of my hands.

He writes something: I'M SORRY. I'M REALLY SORRY. :(

I smile and don't stop myself this time. He hands me the notepad and pen back and smiles too. "Will you forgive me?" He asks.

I think about it and then write my response.

Not yet.

And, before he can ask why or get get upset, I turn and walk away. He doesn't follow me this time.

-

Ian: How can I forgive him?

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