Flash Fiction

Chance

They sat in the window seat of Dee-Dee's, their hands greasy from the just-finished meal.

"So when're you going to send that video in?" Roy asked James.

"Eh." James shifted in his seat. "Maybe before college. One of these days. I got 2 years."

The window seat was next to the door. The small atrium filled with the over tanned skin of low-class old people, and someone else. Someone grabbed the door, and a fake-blonde overweight woman came in, pushing Freddy Meyer. His pallid young body brought the scent of nursing home, desperation, death. They passed to the front, the slumped figure of Freddy, the overweight woman, a man in a Harley shirt, a woman whose curly hair spilled over her sun visor, and a man with a camo baseball cap embroidered with "Jesus loves you," and "He died for us" all over.

Rachel Foster broke the silence. "I got into a Pre-Analytics program with my scores. If I can manage good grades, I might be eligible for a scholarship at the University of -"

"Yeah. You've always got it all figured out," Roy said.

"Better than no plan. Better to do something than nothing."

"Better not to invest yourself in something you don't care about."

James whipped out his phone. "One heck of a game, wasn't it? Here, check out this video of Charlie doing the bleacher dance."

Everyone who was close enough half paid attention, guffawed appropriately, and returned to their positions.

Some people around had left. The sun was going down. Freddy Meyer screamed. Somebody calmed, or at least quieted, him.

"Let's go," Roy said. Everyone got up, still clutching their mostly-empty shakes like they were all that mattered. They crossed the road and walked by the dam. Water thundered over it, and cars soared by on the bridge between the dam and the drive-in. Dee-Dee's shone in the distance in all its artificialness, a gaudy cover for the darkness it held within. As if the road separated them from the same fate, they frolicked like squirrels. But they were not so innocent.