Young Writers Society

Chapter 3

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The rest of the week passed quickly. After spending Friday morning in deep consideration, Mikey reminded himself that he had told Sophie he would go to the cookout, and backing out now would be the definition of cowardice. Being on his own in a group of complete strangers was nothing new to him, but generally it happened in a setting where he didn’t have the social obligation to interact with them.

During lunch, inspiration struck. He spun the situation to Jack and Zane, who both showed reluctance at first. However, the promise of free food won Zane over. His eyes lit up, even as he loaded cheap cafeteria pizza into his mouth. “I’m so in.”

Jack glanced at him and sighed. His eyes were glassy from his allergies. “We don’t even know her.”

“She invited you guys,” Mikey pressed. “C’mon man, I need some backup here. I don’t do cookouts.”

“Do I look like I do?”

“Food!” Zane asserted.

“So, I’ll just be there to babysit The Flash’s metabolism.” Jack rolled his eyes and added, “I guess I can go.”

Saturday afternoon, Mikey’s phone chirped and he found a text from an unfamiliar number.

‘Hope you’re hungry. Head on over. --Soph’

He quickly added her to his contacts, then sent Jack a text. Within a few minutes, he got a response.

‘We’ll pick you up, what’s your address?’

Pick you up? Mikey frowned, then answered the question and went out to wait on the porch. He surveyed the knotted, worn laces on his sneakers; the laces mirrored the state of his stomach at the moment. With some chagrin, he wondered why this situation had to be such a nerve-wracking concept.

After awhile, he heard a vehicle coming up the driveway. His breath caught in his throat.

It was a sleek black Chevelle with electric blue trim and gleaming silver wheel rims. It rolled to a stop as he walked out to greet them before leaning down to look in the driver’s side window. Jack appeared small and out of place behind the wheel.

“Beautiful car. What year?”

Jack patted the dashboard in an uncharacteristically affectionate gesture. “1969 Chevelle Malibu, SS-396.”

Zane hopped out of the passenger seat, leaning it forward. “I swear, he loves this car more than life. Short legs in the backseat.”

Mikey climbed in, noting the tidiness of the black leather interior and the air freshener clipped to one of the vents on the dashboard.

“This is really nice.”

“Yeah, Jack’s parents bought it for his 16th birthday. Know what I got for mine? Socks.”

Mikey chuckled, settling into the spacious backseat. Jack drove carefully, never taking his eyes from the road even as Zane chattered at him.

He parked on the curb at Sophie’s house, since there were already two pickup trucks occupying the driveway.

The three boys got out, standing on the sidewalk nervously. The quaint, white, suburban one-story loomed before them.

“We gonna go in or what?” Mikey asked.

“Hey,” Jack said flatly. “This was your idea.”

Mikey took a deep breath and headed up the sidewalk. Music came from somewhere in the vicinity, along with the smell of barbecue. He knocked on the door. They waited.

Soon, the door opened and Sophie poked her head out, smiling. “Hey! The party has arrived!”

Mikey arched an eyebrow and glanced back at the other two. Jack was sweating visibly, his small frame tense. Zane was beginning to pick at a loose thread on his garish red-and-blue striped t-shirt.

“What the hell kind of parties have you been going to?” Mikey asked Sophie.

She laughed and stepped aside, holding the door open for them before introducing herself to Jack and Zane. They still looked mortified and Mikey wondered if they’d ever been in a girl’s house before.

“Sorry the house is kind of a travesty right now. We’re still trying to figure out where to put everything.”

Mikey noted the haphazard placement of the furniture in the living room. There were two plaid armchairs against the wall by the door. The couch, TV, and entertainment stand were crammed into a corner.

“It looks good,” he said.

They proceeded through the living room and into the sunny kitchen. A sliding glass door led out to the back yard. The wallpaper was a two-tone beige in vertical stripes.

Mikey realized that Sophie walked barefoot as she stepped out onto the back patio. Two middle-aged couples stood out by the barbecue grill, holding beers and chatting.

“Mom, Dad, my friends are here!” Sophie bounced over to them. Her father was short and stocky, with a thatch of thick black hair much like his daughter’s. He extended his hand to shake with all three of the boys. “I’m Howard. This is my wife, Daphne.”

After the introductions, Sophie dug cans of Sprite from a battered blue cooler on the patio. Zane immediately took a gulp of his, tears springing to his eyes from the carbonation. He spluttered.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, clearly ashamed of his friend at this point. Mikey wondered if Zane was like this everywhere he went. Maybe his own lack of social skills wouldn’t be so glaring.

“You know, you guys can relax. We’re not gonna chop you up and stick you on the grill.” Sophie plopped down on the edge of the concrete, stretching her legs until her ankles cracked.

“We don’t get out much,” Zane said, coughing a little. He remained standing while the others sat. Mikey thought he looked like a professor about to give a presentation.

“Why did you invite us anyway?” Jack asked.

“Welllllll.” Sophie toyed with the tab on her soda can, looking embarrassed. “Don’t judge me?”

“That’s ominous.” Jack sipped his drink.

“Basically, I had some problems at my last school, and my folks expected me to ‘make improvements’ which meant making friends. I sorta told them it’s been going great. Which, obviously, it hasn’t.”

She tugged at the grass with her toes. Mikey noticed a large, curved scar stretching across the arch of her right foot.

When no one said anything, she laughed nervously. “I guess it kind of sounds like I used you guys.”

“I mean at least there’s free food,” Zane joked as he finally sat down in the grass opposite them and finished his Sprite.

Mikey sat quietly, debating whether to ask what she meant by problems. However, she still looked flustered so he decided it was none of his business. Instead, he asked where she had moved from.

“Springfield,” she replied. “Shitty place. I like it here so far.”

Mikey remembered her outburst from the other night in the old theater. I fucking hate it here, honestly.

She briefly pushed the left sleeve of her t-shirt up to scratch at her arm. Zane drew in a breath. “Holy hell, Sophie. What happened there?”

Looking down, she saw the deep purple handprint on her upper arm and winced, covering it again quickly.

Mikey blinked, mildly horrified. “That looks really bad.”

“Erm…” Her hand lightly rubbed over the now-concealed bruise as she looked at Mikey. “Remember the other night, when I walked home?”

“Yeah.” He ignored Jack and Zane’s questioning looks.

“Some guy came up to me asking for a cigarette. I said I didn’t have one and he asked for money. I said I didn’t have any and he grabbed my arm.”

Mikey felt his stomach churn, unsure if he wanted her to continue.

“I’m fine!” she added quickly. “I scared him off.”

He nodded, absently scanning her arms for any other marks. She really did look like she was alright otherwise. Zane and Jack were now staring at him openly. He shifted, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

They sat in silence for a while until Daphne announced that the food was ready. Mikey heaped his plate with potato salad, coleslaw, potato chips, and a delicious-smelling hamburger. His appetite had been huge since starting work at the mill. He ate two burgers. Zane devoured three.

Sophie watched him, her eyes wide. “Zane?”

“Mmhmm?” he responded with a mouthful of food.

“Are you pregnant?”

Mikey choked on a chunk of potato as he started laughing. Sophie looked at him and gestured toward Zane, who had immediately turned bright red. “Seriously. Is he the reason kids are starving in Africa?”

Jack glowered at his coleslaw. “I don’t understand how I gain weight and he doesn’t.”

Mikey finished his food, and listened to Sophie and Zane discuss the best way to cook a pancake. Sophie’s parents were still gathered around the grill with the other couple, now several beers in. A portable stereo sat on a lawn chair nearby, blasting out a classic rock station. This was nowhere near as daunting as he had imagined it being.

A mild breeze combed through his hair, and he closed his eyes, trying to let go of the low-lying unease in his mind. Vicki was probably making lunch for his father right now, something easy to digest. Or maybe administering his chemo pills and making sure they stayed down. Vicki, who had signed on to clean the house, cook the meals, and generally do the things a mother would do, but with a much better salary.

Mikey considered that maybe he should be the one caring for his father, instead of leaving more burdens on her. But he knew nothing about how to care for someone with the flu, much less someone suffering from a terminal illness. He would probably end up doing more harm than good, as always.

Sophie stood, taking everyone’s paper plates. “Did you eat yourself into a food coma?” She smiled down at Mikey, and he managed to smile back.

“Yeah, kinda,” he replied. “The food was really good. Thanks.”

“They said the food was good!” she called over to her parents. Howard raised his beer in response.

The wind picked up slightly, this time with a chill to it.

“It better not rain again,” Jack grumbled.

Sophie came back out of the house, squinting up at the sky. Storm clouds were clumping overhead. Howard gathered up his cooking utensils while Daphne and the other woman hurried the food into the house.

“I need to make sure my windows are up.” Jack got up, looking murderous.

Zane remained seated on the grass. “Think we’ll get a tornado?”

“Don’t even think it,” Sophie groaned.

Mikey looked around. Everything, including the adults, had now moved inside. He wondered uncomfortably if this meant that the party was over and they should leave. And, if so, how were they supposed to do that?

He checked his phone. It was almost six-thirty. He had no clue what was the appropriate cutoff time for a cookout. Zane, now trying to tie a blade of grass into a circle, was no help whatsoever.

Relief came when Jack returned, saying that his parents needed him at home to babysit his four younger siblings. They thanked Sophie and her semi-drunk parents.

She walked them outside, making a sound of approval when she saw the Chevelle. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Jack raised his hand.

“I’m jealous. Thanks for coming to the rescue today, guys.”

“It was fun.” Mikey hesitated, then added, “Glad you’re okay.”

She gave him a puzzled look at first, but smiled when he nodded to her arm. “Drive safe, guys.”