Friends and Lovers

T H R E E

"Frankie."

Danny's voice half-roused me from my slumber. I prayed whatever he wanted wasn't urgent, hoping he'd bugger off and let me sleep.

"Frankie!"

This time, Danny shook me like a rag doll. I grumbled, batting him away.

"What?" I growled, hoisting myself up. The morning sun beamed through the open drapes, practically blinding me. I cursed myself for forgetting to shut them before crashing out last night.

"Eyeball's downstairs," Danny announced, a hint of nervousness flickered across his face. Despite Eyeball and the gang laying off the bullying since the whole "Ray Brower incident" last summer, Danny still trembled at the sight of him.

Furrowing my brows in confusion, I felt around for my grandfather's old pocket watch resting on my nightstand. Glancing at the time, it was just a hair past seven.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "Tell him to swing by later."

"No can do, sorry," Eyeball's voice cut in, his smirk practically audible. Danny and I both swiveled our heads toward my door frame, where he stood, looking as cocky as ever.

"You're seriously off your rocker," I scoffed, waving my pocket watch at him. "Do you even know what time it is?"

Danny seized the moment to make his exit, deftly slipping under Eyeball's arm as it casually leaned against my door frame, then scuttling out of my bedroom.

"What's with him, huh?" Eyeball shook his head, peeling his arm away from the door frame and strolling into the centre of my room. "Why do he and his faggot friends treat me like I'm some kind of fuckin' leper?"

"You're kidding, right?" I chuckled incredulously. "Maybe it's because you assholes made their lives a living hell all through grade school, and then last summer you geniuses thought it'd be a bright idea to pull a knife on them." I shot Eyeball a pointed glance.

"Those morons had it coming," Eyeball retorted, nonchalantly extracting a cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it up. "And let's not forget, you were too chickenshit to tag along; you pussied out, remember?"

"Well, excuse the hell outta me for not wanting to spend one of my last days before summer vacation ends hunting down some dead kid!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in frustration. I was sick to death of Eyeball and the guys constantly harping on the fact that I didn't go.

"Ace was the one waving that knife around, not me," Eyeball muttered, ambling over to the three shelves haphazardly affixed to my wall, holding a mishmash of books and trinkets. He plucked an old baseball from its resting place and tossed it lightly in the air before catching it.

"Fine, so Ace pulled the knife." I relented with a heavy sigh. "But you guys didn't need to escalate it the way you did."

Eyeball snorted, returning the baseball to its spot on the shelf. He shot me an irritated glance. "If memory serves me right, Gordie Lachance was the one pulling the trigger on that gun. He's the one who kicked it up a notch, not us."

"What are you doing here anyway?" I asked, eager to shift the conversation.

It took me a solid month or so to forgive the guys for putting my brother and his friends in danger the way they did that summer. I had never been so furious, and I didn't want to hold onto that kind of anger toward my closest friends anymore. Part of me was relieved I stayed back from that search for Ray Brower, but another part wished I had been there to prevent whatever mess went down between them all out on Back Harlow Road.