To The Grave

Chapter 39. Marty. Day 173.

"Do we have to move?" Winona's voice asked as she shoved more supplies in her backpack.

"Okay, but like, we're just moving further down the beach." I muttered at her, adjusting the straps on my backpack, to make shoulder room for my gun strap.

She pulled the backpack over her shoulders, leaning down to pick up the large laundry basket. Inside rested a few worn down pillows and dirty blankets. She rushed through the small camp of people packing everything into Kennon's truck and various backpacks.

A voice shouted over the loudness of the ocean lapping and the many conversations floating around. "There's only 33 people, two adults will drive the trucks and the seats inside will go to the kids under 15." I looked across the beach at Jackson and Holden. Kennon stood awkwardly to the side, his head moving quickly to look at Jackson as he said the word kids.

They broke apart, Holden heading in my direction. I turned around, looking quickly for something to do.

"Hey Martin, have a second?"

My eyes rolled as I let out a quiet sigh. I turned around, plastering a fake smile on my face. "I don't have anywhere else to be."

"I just wanted to say thanks, it means a lot that you and Randall step up so much and help. I forget that you're just sixteen sometimes."

I twisted my face, "What?" I thought about it. It was March, from what Winona said. I was still fifteen.

Ferris jogged up, his hand squeezing my shoulder, "What's up."

Holden smiled, "Just saying thanks to your brother for helping out so much. Most of the adults are too scared to hold a gun."

"Yeah, Randall and him are so helpful for almost being seventeen." He looked at me nodding.

Holden left us, his hand crashing into my arm as a weird thanks. I pulled down on my flannel sleeves, looking at Ferris. "What the hell is wrong with you? You know I'm still fifteen."

"Fifteen-year-old's were still sitting in the conference room, reading history textbooks. I know you Martin, you would've blow your head off. You got suspended, two weeks into school, last year, it wasn't your shit then and it's not going to be now." He gathered the last bit of sticks off the beach, breaking them to carry easier.

"How old do they think you are?" I moved towards the truck as I spoke.

"I lied to give you a better shot. I'm sorry you don't understand." He walked away leaving me alone by the bed of the truck.

Kennon moved over, pulling out his notebook. He flipped to a pre-written phrase. "Done"

I moved my glasses up, bumping my hand against my eyebrow piercing. "Yeah. I think everyone is done with your truck."

He nodded, flipping through his pages. "Okay"