The Light on the Horizon

(A/N: tense shifts and repetition are intentional)

I'd had a really, really bad headache. But when I woke up,  it was gone.

I woke up on the living room floor. I thought that was strange because I didn't remember falling asleep on the living room floor. Potato chips were scattered all across the carpet, but I couldn't remember knocking over the bowl. But there it was, upside down in front of the TV. 

Someone had turned it off.  I couldn't remember what I'd been watching, although I tried to pretty hard. 

Nothing. Total black out.

I scooped up all the chips from the floor and dumped them in the garbage in the kitchen because I didn't want to get killed for doing something I didn't do.  That's when I heard the thock-thock of a basketball hitting the backboard over the garage and looked out the window. It was Lewis, all fuzzy-looking through the screen, shooting hoops.

Lewis doesn't like basketball and never picks up a ball on his own. Dad keeps working into him that he'll never get any girls if he's not good at sports and makes him sometimes. But Lew's only nine years old. What does he want with girls when he doesn't even go to middle school yet?

I went outside and Cole was there, sitting on the grass and watching Lewis attempt to sink a couple. I stood and watched for a little bit, too. Lewis must have been practicing was all I could think. He still wasn't good, but he was better than he had been. 

At some point, Mr. Branigan's car pulled into the driveway next door and Mr. Branigan got out.

"Hi," I called over to him. 

We don't talk to the Branigans too much. Dad doesn't like them. I always say hello, though. I don't care if Dad hears me or not. Not like Lewis and Cole. They ignore the Branigans like Dad does.

Mr. Branigan didn't answer, but he did stop and watch Lewis for a little bit. Then he shook his head, like he couldn't believe it, and went up the steps and into his house. From inside, I could hear Mrs Branigan say something before the door shut. I guessed he'd noticed Lewis' improvement, like I had.

Mom and Dad aren't here. Cole said he looked for them when he woke up, but they were gone. That was earlier.

Lewis stood in the kitchen holding the back of his head. 

"Shouldn't we eat?," he asked, taking his hand away from his head and looking at it. "It's past dark. Didn't mom leave us anything to eat?"

I looked in the fridge, but didn't see anything in those re-heat boxes that Mom sometimes puts leftovers and stuff in, so I made us mac-and-cheese from the box for dinner. After a few bites, Cole said he wasn't hungry. Lewis reached over and plunged his spoon into Cole's bowl, shoveling out a heaping spoonful that he then dumped into his own bowl. 

Normally, Cole would squeal and try to get his macs back, but he just pushed his whole bowl across the table to Lewis like he didn't care and drank his soda-pop, staring out the kitchen window into the distance. 

I've never seen him do that before.

We watched TV all night.

I made popcorn and we watched until most of the channels went to test patterns. None of us were tired.

We watched all the shows we're allowed to watch, and then the late movie and then the late, late movie.  Later we went to bed, but I don't think I slept.

 At least, if I did, I don't remember.