I wake up late, as usual, with the sun already sneaking through my blinds. My dad’s long gone for work, so luckily, there’s no one around to force me into hurrying.
By the time I finally make it to school, I slip into the usual routine—a blur of scribbled notes, half-baked daydreams, and half-hearted attempts to look like I’m following along.
When the final bell rings, I’m out the doors before most people have even packed up, already feeling lighter as I step into the warm afternoon air.
The walk home is its own kind of rhythm. I kick pebbles down the cracked, uneven sidewalks, weaving around groups lounging on stoops or leaning against parked cars with bass-heavy beats thumping through the speakers. A few guys give me a nod as I pass, their low conversations mixing with the beat, and the occasional drift of cigarette smoke—or something a little stronger—curls down from open windows above. Cars rumble past with tinted windows, the exhaust hanging warm and thick in the air.
When I reach the apartment, the door creaks as I push it open, and the familiar scent of old leather and Dad’s cologne washes over me. He’s sprawled in his favorite recliner, eyes glued to some show about life in the wilds of Alaska. But as soon as he hears me come in, he leans forward, a small, tired smile tugging at his face.
“How was school?” he asks.
“Good, Dad. Hey, I’m heading to the arcade tonight. That cool?” I grab a snack from the counter, tearing the wrapper open and dropping my backpack to the floor.
He nods absently, then pauses. “Oh, alright. Actually… Julie thought it’d be fun if you came with us to the ocean this weekend.” His tone is a little flat, and he clicks off the TV, glancing over at me with a look that’s halfway hopeful.
“Fun, huh?” I raise an eyebrow, a smirk slipping onto my face.
“She’s trying,” he says, a resigned smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I let out a soft laugh, the kind that says I get it. “Think I’ll sit this one out, if that’s alright. It’s not really my scene.”
He chuckles, more genuinely this time, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, I figured. I’ll let her know. You good to stay here alone? I’ll leave you some cash for the arcade and maybe some for takeout?”
“Perfect,” I say, kicking off my shoes. “I’m gonna grab a shower,” I add, heading down the hall.
Just as I start to leave, he pulls himself up from the chair and wraps me in a quick, familiar hug, warm and steady. “I’m heading out soon. Just wanted to make sure I saw you get home first, kiddo. I’ll leave some money on the counter, and I’ll call when we get there so you’ll have our number in case you need anything, alright?”
“Got it,” I say, smiling as I press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Dad. Have fun.”
With that, I slip down the hall to my room, peeling off my school uniform and grabbing something a little bit cooler to wear for tonight.
---
By the time I’m out of the shower and dressed, it's already time to hit the road. I swipe the cash from the kitchen counter, and pocket the handful of quarters my dad left beside it.
It’s 5:45, and the early evening sun is just beginning to make its way down the horizon. I slip out the glass door and climb down the fire escape, nerves alight with excitement.
The clang of my feet hitting the ground makes Frankie glance over, a slow grin spreading as he leans against the brick wall, a Newport cigarette dangling from his fingers.
“Hey!” I call, excitement bubbling up. “Wanna hit up the arcade?” I ask with an anxious smile.
He chuckles, taking a long drag, the tip of the cigarette glowing red in the dusky light. He exhales a stream of smoke, squinting through it with one eye closed. “Baby, I’m a little old for the arcade,” he says, his voice dark and smooth as always.
YOU ARE READING
Star: A Zombie Story
Mystery / Thriller"The city is falling, and the dead are taking over." Star's sharp, bold, and quick-witted-she's had to be to survive her neighborhood. But a zombie outbreak? That's a whole new kind of danger. With Frankie, the protective hothead, and Oscar, the la...
