I'll Be Holding on to You

bad luck club

They let Freddy come home in the morning but there was a catch, because of course.

We gathered at his house at noon, an anxious bunch. 

Evie was dressed as some sort of goth or possibly steampunk fairy. The wings were somehow implied. She had a red and black button-up corset under a gauzy black lacy thing, a skirt that was layers of black tulle, and a long wig made of several shades of silver. Her makeup was black with red highlights. 

She should have been in theater but her everyday life was a theater for us, so that worked.

Freddy's mom opened the door for us and tried to look like she hadn't been crying. "Oh, there you all are, come in, this child is going to be the death of me." She dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex but we knew she was delighted he was home and essentially uninjured. She had a flair for the dramatic and was regularly as jovial as her beloved son. "You kids, we'll just have to put you kids in a bubble."

"BLC fo' life," Cam deadpanned, throwing up an unrelated W sign like old-school West Coast rappers. "Wessyde." 

BLC stood for the Bad Luck Club, of which we were six of the seven founding members.

Freak made the same W sign. "It's the best side," she said knowingly.

I shook my head at their inane antics.

She smirked at me and I bit the inside of my lip. I'd taken out her braids that morning and her hair was in a fluffy black halo, making her look like a queen or something. Her cheekbones were art. 

I could have looked at her all day. As it was, I got caught staring more than I should probably.

We went upstairs, past all the football pictures of Freddy's brothers and unfootball pictures of Freddy himself through the years. He hated the sport, claiming it was barbaric and he would never risk his beautiful-brain-not-to-mention-face on the playing field. 

In truth, he had no talent for it and was about as graceful as a giraffe on ice skates, but that was hush hush.

We filed into his open room; Mo, Freak, Cam, Evie, and lastly me. 

He was tucked up in his massive bed, surrounded by snacks and game controllers and books about quantum physics and Pokémon. A small white bandage hid his left temple. 

"Hey, you guys!" He looked delighted to see us. "Okay, my mom explained all of this to me, so I've totally got it. Just tell me who is who."

******

Freddy had retrograde amnesia, and it would hopefully be short term, because we didn't need any more troubles. 

"Some damage in the hippocampal area, and my temporal lobes will never be the same," he joked, opening a bag of Cheetos. "Luckily my implicit memories are still in there so I don't have to learn how to walk and talk again. Or, you know, use the facilities. Totally stoked about that." He gave us two thumbs up with his cheesy (pun intended) grin.

We were all perched on his California King bed. We had music on, as was customary, and Mo and Erika were playing a racing game.

"Yeah, definitely a plus," I agreed. 

We were all kind of amusedly watching him watch Evie in a kind of amazement. It must be strange to see Evie for the first time. Especially on one's bed. Especially when you're Freddy and have always been not so secretly enamored with Evie on a couple of levels. 

Cameron was interested in the memory loss. "So you remember, like, your family?"

He cheerfully shook his head. "Nope. Nobody. It's pretty fuckin' weird. You are all strangers, but I guess I'm an extrovert because I don't seem to mind everyone in my room, on my bed and all. I remember me. I know who I am. I know I like these books. I know I love fuckin' Cheetos." He got another handful. "They match my hair. But my fam, nope. You guys, nope. Not even you," he said in mild amazement to Evie.