Like Orion & Spark

11: The Matt McAubrey Discussion Club

In my spare moments, I returned to the park and poured over the documents. Comparing notes, trying to make sense of it all. The longer I stared at the files, the less I understood.

I cut through the bushes on my way to AZI. The trees hung over my head, sending leaves of every colour scattering on the sidewalk. I purposely timed my footsteps, so that I would hear the soft crunch of the leaves beneath my boots. Despite the fact that October had only just begun, pumpkins had started to appear everywhere. As I walked, I spotted a fabric store with a display of small fruit in the window, arranged with miniature hats and sweaters which made them look like people. Among them was a larger gourd dressed in spandex, and for a second I almost thought it was Rad-Man. But it wasn't: the colour was wrong.

The outfit was Almighty Orion's. Above the display was a sign boasting their new colour choices; perfect for creating your own costume this season.

I halted and slowly eased the door open. I'd never stepped inside a store like this before. It felt out of place. I wondered if Kieran felt this way during his ballroom dancing lessons. Surely there weren't very many other men who wanted to dance, (unless it was their wedding) just like there wasn't anyone familiar inside a fabric store.

Using the excuse of a Halloween costume, I perused the different sections. Spandex was my go-to, but it seemed I wasn't the only person with that idea in mind. The entire blue section was empty, and so was the white. I ran my hand along the remaining colours, my fingers resting on yellow. It wasn't obnoxious, just a dandelion, sunshine, lightning-bolt yellow.

Kieran's words echoed in my head. While we're on the subject, that colour looks really nice on you.

Naturally, I bought it. Along with an instruction booklet and some advice from the clerk, who probably thought I was insane, I exited the store.

I returned to AZI—well, it was more like a stealthy entrance, since I could hear the distinct sound of Kris and Matt arguing for the thousandth time.

Passing them, I moseyed over to Gabriel's room, where the rest of the guys would be. There was a vent on the floor of his room connected directly to the kitchen, so it became the best place to be while eavesdropping. We'd first tried to stick around in the living area, but were forced to scatter elsewhere after the whole jealousy business.

Nico, chairman of this novel idea, called it the Matt McAubrey discussion club. The rest of us were honorary members, and Trevor (begrudgingly) agreed to be the group's lookout, which meant it was his voice I heard as I got to the upper floor.

"Riley—over here! The group meeting started two minutes ago, you're late."

I dropped my bag on my bed and sidestepped into the room. Laying on the floor was Nico, with his arms propped behind his head. "Are you ever on time?"

"I've got better things to do than eavesdropping on the same fight played on rewind," I said.

Gabriel, sitting at his bedside, chipped in, "Yeah, they're around the part where they blame each other for everything."

I sat myself down next to the vent. "The first act, you mean."

He nodded. It was a room with the same layout as mine; the walls were coated in postcards and polaroids held up by peeling tape. Among them were what appeared to be family photos, and a few candid pictures of flowers and trees. At the edge, as though recently added, were the members of AZI: Trevor on the hood of his car, Nico and Gabriel dressed in our school's sports uniforms, and a shot of everyone, all crowded together on the couch, clearly taken when nobody was looking. In the far corner was his acoustic guitar and its case on the floor. An array of guitar picks sat on the dresser, lined up in alternating colours and varieties.