Okay, so here's the second chapter, also heavily edited. Tell me what you think. I know it's really short, but I did my best.
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The missing note bothered Brad a little bit, but he didn’t give it much thought that night. As he lay down n bed he was more focused on the party at Christian’s house tomorrow, almost fervently hoping that Michaela would decide to come anyways, because he knew Ashley wouldn’t come unless she did. He tried not to like her as more than a friend, he did everything he could not to, but he couldn’t help hoping she would come anyways.
After his father’s death when Brad was eight, Brad had had to see what it did to his mom. She grieved horribly, and even though Brad was the child and he felt just as terrible, it had been him comforting her. She had gotten over it before long though, and started dating around. It didn’t work well; all of them ended in some sort of fight and the man storming out of the house for good. She would be tremendously heartbroken for a while, and then the cycle would start all over again. Then she had married John, jumped into the relationship too soon because she didn’t want the fights to start and him to leave her. Now they were fighting too, and today hadn’t even been the first time; it had been going on since Kamren was five, though this was the first fight she had been present for. Only Brad had been graced with listening to the others.
John had already been married twice, divorced twice; he had three other kids that he was struggling to pay child support for. Brad’s mom still hadn’t gotten over all her other mishaps in love. With all he had seen of love, romance, and dating, it never ended well, and someone always got hurt. It never lasted forever like in the movies, and it only caused pain. He knew all this. He firmly told himself again and again that he was never going to put himself through that, make himself subject to the pain he had seen all too much of before. And yet here he was, crushing on Ashley despite all his better intentions. He was angry with how weak he was, how he couldn’t control his emotions enough to keep himself safe from the pain. That’s what he was chewing over as he drifted asleep.
It was a little past noon when he woke up again. He was tempted to go back to sleep, but his stomach was growling fiercely, so he reluctantly dragged himself up and pulled on a pair of clean-looking jeans from the pile by the foot of his bed. Skipping the bathroom, he went straight downstairs, praying there was something to eat that hadn’t been cooked by his mom. As he looked around for the bag of Doritos he was sure he had seen the day before yesterday, Brad noticed a Post-It note stuck on the fridge. He pulled it off, recognizing his mother’s untidy scrawl.
Brad, we went to Wal*Mart. We’ll be
back before three. Feed your sister.
Typical, Brad thought, crumpling the note and throwing it away. Temporarily giving up the hunt for something edible, he trudged back upstairs and pounded on Kamren’s door, knowing already there would be no response. He let himself in and pulled open the curtains, letting in the bright sunlight. Kamren’s head popped up from the tangle of bed sheets, her hair sticking up like a haystack. “Wuzz go’non?” She asked, looking around for a second before she saw Brad standing by her window, and squinted at him through sleep-sticky eyes. “Brad? Go ‘way. Try’n t’ sleep.”
Brad just rolled his eyes. He knew exactly how to wake her up. “You gotta get up Kam; it’s after n- Holy shit! Get up! It’s a spider! A huge one, Kam! Get up!” He had to fight to keep the smile out of his voice. Kamren jumped up like she had been electrified, and tumbled to the ground with a thud. Immediately she was on her feet again, her head snapping around so fast it should have given her whiplash as she checked every corner of her room. Slowly comprehension dawned on her face, and she turned to face Brad, her expression turned almost murderous when she saw him doubled over with laughter and tears streaming down his face.
“I can’t believe you, you… UGH!” She muttered something quietly as she walked towards the closet, and Brad distinctly heard a few choice words he was sure she had gotten him into trouble for using before.
“You’re not much of a morning person, are you?” Brad asked. “Anyways, I had to get you up; Mom left me in charge, which means you should probably have eaten something by the time they get back. Get dressed and come downstairs. I think we still have the pancakes Ms. Greenwood gave us.” Unlike Brad and Kamren’s mom, Kent’s was a great cook. Brad stayed long enough to make sure she wasn’t going to go back to sleep, then left her to clean up.
Thankfully, there was still a few pancakes left in the freezer, and Brad heated them up in the microwave, listening to Kamren’s footsteps upstairs and then the faint sound of the shower running. She was still upstairs when the pancakes finished, so Brad put his own on a plate and carried them to the table. Unlike the rest of his family and everyone else he knew, Brad didn’t care much for maple syrup on pancakes; instead he drizzled Hershey’s syrup over them before digging in.
Finally the water cut off and Kamren came downstairs, her hair still wet. She seemed slightly more cheerful as she chewed on her pancakes, so Brad decided it was good time to share the news.
“Get ready to go. I’m dropping you off at Brittney’s early.”
“Why?” She whined. “I’m not supposed to be there until four!”
“Mom already called Ms. Sabina. She said it was okay for you to come over sooner,” Brad explained in a patronizing tone.
“But why?”
“‘Cause I’m going over to Christian’s house now to help him set up for his party tonight.” Brad regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but it was too late. Kamren’s eyes lit up, all traces of whining gone.
“A party? Will Arik be there? Can I go?”
“Yes. Yes. No; you’re going to Brittney’s.” Kamren opened her mouth to protest, but Brad cut her off before she could get the words out. “Whine all you like, Kam. We’re leaving in an hour. We’ll stop at McDonald’s or something for lunch on the way.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” Brad replied, using John’s favorite quote. “Get over it.”
Griping under her breath, she turned and stalked away. With her long legs and stride, she disappeared into the hallway in only a few seconds. Brad grinned as she walked away. Though she was pissed with him, he was almost as hopeless as John when it came to staying mad at her. He stared after her for a second longer, musing over the fact that in a few years he would probably have to put the fear of God into whatever boy showed up at the door for her, then dumped his plate in the sink and turned on the TV.
“Absolutely nothing on,” Brad complained to the empty kitchen, settling for a rerun of Home Improvement, the one where Tim decides to install the elaborate security system and it blows up in his face. After two episodes, Brad got up and called for Kamren.
She took her sweet time coming down, but finally she marched into the kitchen, looking cranky. “Aren’t you even going to put a shirt on?” She complained, raking her eyes critically over the faded blue jeans that were all he was wearing.
“No.” He was pretty sure there was an clean T-shirt in he trunk of his car, and if that one was gone then there was definitely one at Christian’s that he could put on for the party.
Kamren didn’t speak once in the car—John had picked up Brad’s Volvo earlier that morning—and after reluctantly placing her order at McDonald’s, she lapsed back into her morose silence. She didn’t say good-bye when they arrived at Brittney’s, just slammed the door and marched up the walkway. Brad watched long enough to make sure she got into the house safely, comforted by the fact that she wouldn’t be upset for much longer if she was hanging out with Brittney Dooley.
It was only fifteen to three when Brad pulled out of Foundry Hill Road, and the drive to Christian’s house was less than fifteen minutes. No point in puttin’ it off though, Brad thought. He said he got the X-Box 360 Elite and World Tour for his Wii; we can always kill a few hours on those. Wonder if I should swing by and pick up Kent and Arik? Why not? Their houses are on the way.
Brad was so caught up in his planning that he wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have been to the road. He was going too fast, ten miles over the limit, cars behind him and on his left side. And in front of him a teenage girl was in the direct middle of the lane, and Brad was barreling down on her. She was frozen mid-stride, staring at the approaching car with wide eyes behind her glasses. Brad wasn’t paying enough attention to her face to realize that an instant later the surprise had shifted to recognition.
The car behind him was riding his bumper; if he hit the brake now they would crash. Brad did the only thing he could think to do—he jerked the wheel hard to the right, careening off the side of the road. Stupidly, he stomped on the brakes before he had regained control, and the car bounced and bumped horribly, teetering on two wheels. Just when Brad thought the car was going to level out, the front right tire hit a large ditch and the Volvo lurched over onto its side, and rolled down the short incline with the metal frame shrieking protests.
Brad’s shoulder was jammed painfully into the window and his forehead connected with the steering wheel, leaving a splatter of red behind. He could taste blood in his mouth. There was too much pressure on his left leg; it built up for a few seconds before the bone gave up and sent a wave of blinding pain up Brad’s left side. As the car rolled upside down the windows shattered, pelting Brad’s bare chest and face with shards of glass. He had just enough wits left to squeeze his eyes tight and tuck in his head. The seatbelt was constricting his chest with amazing force. Brad thought he heard something snap there, too, but he couldn’t be sure. He was starting to float away.
Already the pain was lessening. Black spots loomed across his vision, bring with them a numb feeling that Brad gratefully accepted. He didn’t notice when the car finally came to a stop, or realize that he was upside down and bleeding; he was too far gone. He knew pain was waiting if he went back to reality now, and he willingly sank into a peaceful oblivion.
He woke only once before the ambulance arrived. The pain was so amazing that it almost forced him back under again, but he managed to keep his eyes open. His brain didn’t seem to be working quite right, but he was pretty sure that he was upside down, held in place by the seatbelt, which was constricting his chest. Through the jagged remains of the windshield he could see blurry figures and shapes; the largest one appeared to be moving. Slowly the world came back into focus, enough that Brad could see there was an old man staring down at him, looking horrified. He still held an open cell phone in one hand. Brad thought the old man looked familiar, but he couldn’t place him.
Maybe five feet back was another person, this one easier to recognize: it was the pedestrian he had almost hit. She looked to be about Brad’s age, with dull, mousy brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses. Brad couldn’t begin to guess why she was wearing thick, black clothes, in the middle of summer, but at that moment he couldn’t guess much of anything. The darkness was returning, bringing with it a freedom of pain. This time Brad didn’t want to fall into it, afraid that he might no be able to find his way back, but he couldn’t fight it. It completely enveloped him, pulling him under before he could too closely evaluate the scene before him. If he had known enough then, he probably would have been glad that he couldn’t grasp what was going on.
He probably wouldn’t have wanted to know the old man’s true motives for saving Brad, though he would certainly find out soon. He wouldn’t want to realize that the girl standing farther back didn’t seem to be entirely substantial, or see that she shimmered in the bright sunlight. He wouldn’t want to examine the emotions on her face well enough to recognize them, because—though he didn’t know it then—he didn’t want anything to do with this girl that wasn’t entirely there. He wouldn’t want to understand why she was staring at the mangled car with an expression of mingled fear and hope. Knowing these things wasn’t in his best interest, but he would have to anyways, because the darkness could only protect him for so long.
Lucky for Brad, the brain doesn’t think logically when it thinks the body is about to die. Instead of pondering the scene before him, Brad’s last thought before he was completely submerged was, now Christian’ll have to cancel the party. He won’t be happy.
