The Call of the Others

Chapter 5

Things still weren’t okay between Joe and his dad. Or Alice and her dad. Or between both of their dads. That was part of the reason they got along so well—they understood where the other one was coming from.

The friends were on Joe’s bed, sitting next to each other, holding hands, complaining about stuff.

“He’s going back to the alcohol,” Alice said. “Before, it was at least two bottles a day. Now, it’s at least four.”

Joe didn’t know how to respond to this. Then he remembered. “My dad’s going to try to get him into Alcoholics Anonymous.”

“NO!” Alice said, terrified at the idea. “It’s just gonna piss him off. It’s not going to help anything.” She heaved a great, heavy sigh.

“He was just thinking about it. . .” Joe trailed off. “Just thinking.”

Alice nodded. “What about you and your dad? Things any better?”

“He’s just been on my case. My grades are slipping, he still doesn’t like my friends, stuff like that.” Thinking for a while, he added, “But not you. He likes you.”

“I know,” Alice said. Suddenly, she asked, “Does Charles still like me?”

“Uh,” Joe said, thrown off by the question. “I guess. We don’t really talk about it.”

“I can’t believe Cassandra thought of things people wouldn’t like about me.”

“I know,” Joe said, rolling his eyes.

“I mean, I have two people liking me. No one even likes her as a friend.”

“Technically, Charles isn’t a definite—”

“And I can think of a lot of things people wouldn’t like about her.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect. . .”

“What does that mean?!” Alice said, standing up and glaring at Joe accusingly.

“Well, I’m just saying that we shouldn’t be so mean to Cassandra.”

“Why?” Alice asked, confused. “She’s mean to us.”

“Well, yeah,” Joe said, shifting in his seat. “But we should be the better people.”

Alice shook her head, mumbling about compassion (Joe’s specialty).

“Okay, I’m sorry. It isn’t fair to expect you to be nice to her after all she’s said to you.”

“There you go,” Alice said, smiling now and sitting next to her boyfriend.

“There I what?”

“Being your understanding self.”

He was understanding now?! YES!!!!!!!!!!!

Joe smiled a goofy smile at the compliment, thinking he had a new word to add to his flashcard.

Meanwhile, in a field behind Cary’s house, Martin was complaining.

“Is this even your property? Because if it’s not, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal,” he said.

Cary, squatting on the ground next to a heap of explosives, said, “Of course it is, Smartin.” He added under his breath, “Last time I bring you to my late-night firework display.”

“Hey,” Martin said when Cary took out his lighter. “Dude, be careful.”

Smiling, he put it close to the fuses. He had to time this just right. Just right. . .

“Cary!”

“Martin, I’m not going to blow up the dang neighborhood!” he yelled, looking back at his friend, extremely aggravated.

“But will you blow up your face? That’s what I’m worried about!”

“MARTIN!” Cary said, annoyed. “I’m going to be fi—” Then he dropped his lighter, fully opened, little yellow flame glowing in the darkness. This meant he had to run. And fast. Awkwardly squirming out of his crouch, Cary dislodged the perfect arrangement of his fireworks. From behind him, he heard Martin yell, “CRAP! Cary, run! Run!”

And he did. Cary ran as fast as he could, no notice of where he was going. He heard a firework go off—the biggest fricking one of the bunch, no less. From Martin’s yells, he could tell it was headed somewhere for him. Cary sprinted away, but he felt it was all in vain. He could picture it: the firework, in its beautiful arc, exploding in a brilliant array. In fact, Cary thought he could feel the heat of the flame that would soon consume him, hear the sound that once sent thrills through his body. A searing pain from the heat he felt spread from the middle of his back to his neck. Cary tripped on a rock, sealing his fate. The pain grew, shot through his legs. His surroundings got darker, Martin’s yells get quieter; the trajectory locked on him, no escape possible. It was inevitable.

Cary closed his eyes and surrendered to the darkness threatening to overwhelm him.