When Lightning Strikes

The Routine

I woke up groggy, is the best way to describe it. My eyes were crusty, my hair was everywhere, my mouth dry. I pulled my blanket off my body and I sat up in my bed. I looked out my window, it was muddy, and there was fog, typical after a storm. I got out of bed and stretched for a bit, I felt stiff for some reason. I walked out of my room, into the hall and went to the kitchen. I took a seat at the counter. Mom was on the other side making eggs
"Hey Mom, how'd you sleep?"
No response as usual
"She slept fine Ray," said Dad
"Oh great!" I said with enthusiasm
This was a regular routine after Charlie. I ask Mom a question, and Dad answers it for me
"So is there anything new on Charlie's case?" I ask
"Well the police are brining a forensics team to scan the area for prints."
"Do they already have the gun?"
"What gun?" Asked Dad with a worried tone
"The gun that the guy in the hoodie left on the floor in Charlie's room, I saw it that night,"
"Are you sure Ray? I'm pretty sure I would've seen a gun on Charlie's floor,"
"Yes I am sure Dad, I saw it clear as day," even though it was at night
"Ok Ray, I'll make sure to tell the police about the gun,"
I am sure that there was a gun on that floor, sure of it. Maybe the guy in the hoodie came back the next night and took
It back. Wouldn't I have at least heard him, the floors always creak in Charlie's room. I thought about all of this while in the shower. I guess I took too long and my dad yelled at me to stop using up all the hot water. So I shampooed my hair, got out of the shower, dried off, put on some deodorant, and brushed my teeth. I walked into my room and I put a plaid shirt on, a t-shirt that said "Bazinga!", and some jeans. I grabbed my iPod, fully charged, and went out the door. I pushed the button to open the garage, I passed our car, some boxes of memorabilia (junk), and grabbed my bike, I got my helmet from the other side of the garage and headed out.

I always loved riding my bike, the feeling of my hair flowing in the wind. And M83 on playing on my iPod probably helped. Of course laws these days would want me not to have my helmet in my front basket and on my head. But there was nobody on these roads. So there was no worry. I heard a muffled voice in the distance. Although I barely heard it,
It was like a sudden whisper in my hear. I pulled out my earbuds.
"Hey Ray!" Shouted a girl on a bike to my right at a crossroads
It was Laney. Ah yes, Laney. Laney was Laney Gwyneth-Anderson. I had met, and then quite fondly known Laney very circumstantially in kindergarten. Danny Cortan was playing the "why are you hitting yourself' game with me when Laney snuck up behind him and sacked him, it was quite amusing, Laney liked that I laughed at it and decided to be my friend and protector. And as the years went on I had began to know Laney not as an aggressive, violent bitch, but a strong, smart, witty, kinda pretty girl. She just used the violence as a cover in school because that's how she wanted to be known, as someone you don't screw with. But it did help around guys like Danny Cortan, who doesn't touch me since that day.
"Hey Laney," I shouted back
"How you holding up since Charlie?" She asked not like a random stranger, but like a friend
"It's been a bit difficult, of course I always think about, and dream about that night, I go over it again and again in my head, and it always comes back to this: I should've stopped it," I confessed
"You saw what was happening, and you were too shocked to comprehend or make a simple body motion, I've read about it in an article," Laney always knew interesting things
"Of course you have," I said
"Well you know me"
"So what's up with you?"
"Well, Dad's been gone for a week now" she said with a worried tone
"What did he say he was doing before he left?" I asked
"He said he was going to 'The RB'"
"Oh"
The RB stood for The Rotten Badger, it was the local pub in town. The Rotten Badger had been around for ages, it was owned by the son, of the son, of the oldest man in town. The old man's name was Jonathan Kovaks, he had bought, built, and owned The Rotten Badger in the early 1950s. But later in the 1980s he became old and ill so he gave it to his son, Jacob Kovaks. And then Jakob Kovaks ran the bar quite well until 2010, when he became old and ill. So he gave it to his son Jared Kovaks and he has run it ever since. Laney's father is a well known drinker there, if he didn't have wife and kids, you would assume that he lived there.
"Have you or your mom checked the RB?" I asked
"Mom has gone 12 times, I've gone twice."
"Where do you think he actually is?"
"Well, he could be at the cottage with non-uncle Sal."
We called him non-uncle Sal because Sal wasn't Laney's uncle. He was just a good drinking buddy with Laney's father. But whenever he came home from a good night of drinking with him, he would always beckon the words: "Hey kids, come help your Father and your Uncle Sal." Laney had told me dreadful stories about her encounters with Uncle Sal. He was a fat, beer gutted, loud mouthed drunk that lived on spending nights at Laney's house, drinking, and torturing Laney and her siblings. He had hit them, threw drinks at them, and one time, tried to molest Laney, but his hand only got to Laney's inner thigh before she kicked him in the sack.
"God I hate that drunk jackass, you know you should've gone to the police with that rape attempt!"
"Well even of I did, my father would deny it, he would say I was just making it up"
"Why does life have to be so goddamn depressing? My brother was shot, your dad has left you and your family, and you can't get rid of that drunk, gross, pig of a non-uncle?"
"I don't know. Maybe God conjures up these lives so that we can entertain him, like a fucking reality TV show, except we don't have fat pageant show kids, or 19 children, just really screwed up lives!"
"You believe in God?"
"Yeah, but I don't pray to him, cause he's never done anything good for me."
"Yeah that is a good point."
"Here we are, welcome back to hell"
We had arrived at Harriston Secondary School, home of the Ants "We may be small, but we always win the brawl!" Was our slogan, it was good but not true. The Ants had never won a single game. Our school wasn't big, but it wasn't small. It had two floors, a medium size cafeteria, a gym that was slightly bigger than the cafeteria, and my favourite a big ass library. I had read about 1/4 of the books there, and there was over 5 000 in that library. I mostly read the classics, like To Kill A Mockingbird, Lord Of The Flies, The Outsiders, Catcher In The Rye, even The Hobbit, which I considered a classic. Laney was more interested in the gym, cause she was way more athletic. I mean, she may be small, but that Hobbit girl can pack a punch, or a kick. She had even joined the Ants, which was a basketball team, and she was the only girl, but she was better than half the guys. While I was more academic, I joined the Tech Club, I was the president of the Classic Literature Club, which I had created. And I was the editor of the Daily Gossip, but I wasn't a fan of the name.
"So what's happened since I was gone?" I asked
"Well, you are the talk of the entire school, I mean there is a rumour that you shot the gun, but only about 20 people believe that, and they were the ones that started the romour."
"So I'm a basic celebrity here now?"
"Well the only thing close to a celebrity in Harriston, so...yeah"
"Interesting."
"Well I'll see you at lunch, gotta go to class."
"Ok, well I gotta get to the club so see ya."