The Sky is Falling

Chapter Seven - Finn Louis

"Make it easy, say I never mattered."

Sunday, May 24th

2:45 P.M.

Nothing could've prepared me for what Elliott Moore told me over the phone. I had been wondering where Zachary was the past few days, but I never would've imagined him being gone.

We all became friends in kindergarten. We were playing outside during recess. You weren't supposed to bring trading cards to school, but Elliott sneaked them in. Soccer cards. All our favorite players. We eventually got into trouble, but it was exhilarating. I thought I was some rebel after I told my mother "Nothing" when she asked what I did at school.

Then when we got to middle school, I started drifting away from their interests and exploring my own. Apparently, they took that as I stopped wanting to be friends.

The first time I actually started reconsidering our friendship, was when Elliott made some remark about my outfit in the fourth grade. Just because I wore a button-up shirt that was a shade of light pink that my mother picked out for some school program we did. Obviously, he didn't know any better, but I still think about it from time to time. He definitely forgot all about some random thing he told me when he was nine. But all the little things he said went right to my head. Everything I told him went out the other ear.

In November of fifth grade, my mother passed away in a car crash. I asked Elliott if he would attend her funeral, and he said he couldn't. He told me he had a soccer game. Zach couldn't come because he was also playing in that game. My only friends skipped my own mother's funeral because of some stupid grade school sporting event.

"Finn? Finn, are you still there?" Elliott's words snap me back to reality.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, I'm still here," I sigh.

"Can I come over?"

"My father will never allow that."

"Well, can't you come over to my place?"

"I can try, I guess."

"Alright, see you soon. And lemme know if you can't make it."

"Yep."

He abruptly hangs up, before I can tell him I'm grounded. Of course, I want to search for one of the only friends I ever had. I just can't.

I would try to pull a sneak-out-through-the-window like in the movies, but my bedroom is on the second floor. Instead, I slowly open my door and peer downstairs. My father is in the living room, asleep on the recliner, watching TV and snoring, with a beer in hand. Discreetly, I tip-toe down the steps and put on my shoes. I slip out the garage door, praying he didn't hear anything. I check the lock on the door eleven times, just the same as every day.

I arrive at Elliott's house and rap the door knocker against the front door. A few moments later, he opens it. "You made it," he says like he was expecting me to never show up. I nod and step inside. "Alright, so, do you wanna go up to my bedroom now?" He asks.

"Sure," I reply, awkwardly, the chemistry we had as kids, gone. We start going up the stairs and I take a few steps into what I assume is still his bedroom, but it's decorated with little kid's toys and painted bright red.

"Oh, right, I switched rooms with my little brother a few years ago," he says as if I should've known, even though I haven't been to his house since fourth grade.

I purse my lips into a line and follow him to his new bedroom. It's covered with posters, to the extent that you can't even see the wall. He has a full bed covered with papers. "Nice interior designing skills," I say.