The WRA Draft

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Photo Album

(Denver's POV)

Everyone was quiet on the bus ride home after getting off the plane. Mr. Wires told us what would happen when we arrived back home. It was Wednesday and since we were getting home so late, we weren't required to return to school until Friday. I was beyond grateful for that and I believe the rest of my sleep-deprived friends were as well.

Dad picked me and Kasey up from the school at two in the morning.

"Hey, bud," Dad greeted. He smiled and pulled us two in a hug. "I'm real proud of you guys. Fourth place out of fifty bands is mighty great."

Kasey and I laughed. "It is, Dad."

"How you holding up, Denver?"

I, who hadn't said anything for the past two hours, looked at him with a confused look. "Hmm?"

"Your mother told me about you and Olivia." I let out a deep sigh. Dad put a hand on my shoulder. "And frankly, son, I saw it a long time ago."

Kasey laughed from the trunk of the car where he was placing our bags.

Again, I sighed. "Dad, I hate seeing her the way she is. I haven't had a happy, care-free conversation with her since before the Challenge was announced. I've only seen her smile a few times."

"Can you blame her?"

"No, I can't. I just wanna help, but I don't know how."

"I hear you, son." Dad jumped into the driver's seat. Kasey took the front seat, so I was crammed in the back. "Let's head home. You guys need a shit-load of rest."

Kasey chuckled, resting his his head on his hand. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes.
•••
"Dude, wake up." Kasey's voice was distant and soft. I felt a hand hitting my leg. My eyelids lifted up and I saw my brother looking back at me from the front seat, but my mind had escaped me.

"Where are we?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Kasey's lips curled into a tired smirk. "We're home, dude. Come on."

"Mmmm," I moaned, "right."

Kasey got out of the van and I followed suit, just, you know, a lot slower.

Kasey had grabbed his bags was halfway to the house, but I was still standing there, lost as ever. I looked around me hoping to find something telling me what I supposed to do.

Behind me was a cornfield with dead, broken stalks from last year. To my left was the driveway leading out off our property. To my right was a backyard. I couldn't see a lot in the dark, but I was able to make out the silhouette of a fire pit, a picnic table, and three large trees lined side by side.

That didn't help me at all. I looked forward and rested my hands on the trunk door. My bags were tossed around inside of it. One of my drumsticks stuck out of my bag and it clicked: I was in percussion.

But what was I supposed to do now? I looked back at the cornfield. Still didn't help. I faced the trunk again and saw my house over the top of the car. The living room light and Kasey's bedroom light on. Oh, Kasey's home. He probably wouldn't even unpack his bags...

"Oh my God, I'm an idiot," I said aloud, reaching for my own bags.

"Denver!" Dad was yelling from the back door. "Get in here!"