Unfortunately, as summers often do, it ended. This wasn’t too horrible, though; it meant less time with my father, but more time with Roger. And September meant SOCCER SEASON!

My first day of tenth grade began rather differently than the previous year. On the morning of August 30th I was still asleep, sprawled comfortably on my back, at 5:58 AM. This was not to continue for long, however, thanks to a massive force that suddenly crashed itself into my chest and grabbed at my cheeks. Letting out a groggy half-grunt half-holler I batted at the alien weight at my chest and swatted it to the floor. Head splitting from being suddenly jerked out of a coma-like sleep, I curled to my side and faced the thing I’d knocked off me; ‘faced’ I say because my eyes were still crusted shut and incapable of sight. I rubbed them free and glared blearily at the thing on my rug. And oh, it was a horrid entity, a vile creature, perhaps the single most obnoxious living thing in a 100-mile radius.

Its name was Harrison-Addison Redde, though it went by Harry.

“Get. Out,” I rumbled, too groggy to piece together a more complicated command.

“Good morning, Rikky!” it chirped, jumping up and pulling my covers off. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

I snatched my sheets back and plopped my head back into my pillow, hoping if I played asleep he’d give up. However, the despicable five-year-old only hopped onto my back and prodded my cheek. He pinched my eyelid and pulled it back, singing, “Wake uuuup!” Teeth clenched, I resisted the urge to rip my little brother’s arms out of his sockets and continued feigning sleep. At 6:00 my alarm clock began its repetitive, blaring opus. Harry plucked the wailing box off the counter by my bed and dropped it on my head, making my temple bruise and my ears bleed.

“You stupid—!” I screamed, whirling upright and sending the little boy flying with a swinging fist. “What the hell is wrong with you, you obnoxious brat?!”

Undaunted, the little boy rubbed his shoulder where I’d hit him and looked up at me from the floor, head cocked, his floppy brown mop falling all over his face and the weird-looking blue eyepatch he wore. “Gee, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed! Mum told me to wake you up for school!”

“And a fine job you did, you idiot,” I snapped. I threw my pillow at him. “Get out of my room!”

“What’s the magic word, you idiot?” he mocked.

“If you don’t get out of my room right now I’m going to boot you down the stairs, do you got that?!”

Harry is obnoxious, but he isn’t stupid. He knows I would, and have before. He stuck his tongue out at me and indignantly trotted downstairs. I collapsed back in bed, rubbing the side of my head and hammering my alarm clock quiet. After a few more minutes of peace to let my head stop spinning I yanked myself to my feet and trudged to the bathroom to shower.

When I emerged in the kitchen, my mother and brother were at the table, Mum pouring cereal into Harry’s bowl. Harry swiveled on the chair and smiled impishly. He was so short he needed a chunky booster seat just to see over the edge of the table.

“What are you smirking at?” I snapped, throwing myself down next to him and pouring my own cereal.

“You smell funny,” he said, and he laughed his freckly head off like that was the greatest thing ever.

I flushed and glared over my Cheerios. So sue me, I’d put on some aftershave so I smelled decent on my first day of school. I’m so sorry if a five-year-old has a problem with that.

Mum chuckled. “Harry! That’s not very nice!” She smiled at me. “I think you smell nice, Arik. Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, very well,” I spat, sarcastic. “At least until Harry woke me up.”

Harry grinned proudly. Mum, knowing, shot me a look of amused pity. “Well, he insisted on getting up early to see you off.”

“You know, I’m starting school today, too,” Harry said thoughtfully, as if he were going to highschool with me.

“Kindergarten is not school,” I replied, just to be mean.

He frowned. “It is too. I get to take the bus and everything.”

Five years old and Harry had decided he never wanted his mother to drive him to school again. I went back to my cereal, fuming. But, geez, what a frightening thought: Harrison Redde among other, normal children. I pitied the other children.

I glanced over at him while I chewed. His spoon dipped from his bowl to his mouth as he ate daintily with tiny hands, forever the little adult. He was a small kid, short and scrawny for his age, with a big head and thick, unruly brown hair. It flopped all over his face and the back of his head, but he screamed whenever Dad tried to take a pair of scissors to it. His right eye was covered by a cloth eyepatch because he’d injured it the previous year, and it still looked completely strange and laughable to me. His good eye was a deep dark blue, long-lashed, and large, but not nearly as large as his mouth. A star-map of freckles littered the face that was always ready to smirk or frown or scream. He must have taken after Mum, whereas I favored Dad, because other than the fact that our hair was the same color, I couldn’t find any trace of a likeness between us.

Which was a good thing, as I thought he was the funniest looking kid I’d ever seen.

“Oh, Arik, remember, tryouts today,” Mum said.

“Yeah, I know. Not that I really need to go, even. I’m still on the team from last year.”

“You said you had a ride…? I don’t want you left behind like last year! Mrs. Shannon felt horrible about it!”

I swallowed and grinned. “Roger is giving me a ride home. His Varsity tryouts are at the same time,” I said. Oh, it was nice to have older friends, particularly ones who could drive.

“But you’re not on his team anymore, right, Rikky?” Harry chirped, and I felt two twinges behind my eyeballs. Number one: being called ‘Rikky’ was cute back when Harry was younger and when he tried to say ‘Arik’ it came out ‘Awk’ at best, but now it was old, stupid, and I hated being called that. Number two: dumb brat, I HAD been trying to forget the age-difference between Roger and I, and thus the difference in teams. At an early hour like this it was best to trick my fragile brain into forgetting traumatic details like that.

“No, I’m not. Thank you for reminding me, Harrison-Addison,” I barked back sharply, and his nose wrinkled. ‘Arik’ is pretty lame, but it’s not nearly as moronic as ‘Harrison-Addison’ and he knows it.

I finished breakfast quickly, annoyed by Harry’s one little eye watching me the entire time. I brushed my teeth and did my hair. A lot of work goes into my hair to keep it neat and shiny, and I’m very vain of it. It was a bit longer than this time last year, but in the same style, with thick long bangs parted in the center. My facial hair was still thin, but I was working on sideburns. Roger had sideburns. They were so cool. I wanted some like his.

As is I felt infinitely more mature than I had last year. I gave the mirror the sullen-teenager glare so essential for highschool society. Oh, I had it. I looked good: sulky and wronged by the world, hair silky and eyes glassy. Working on the airship had been great for a summer workout. I wondered if you could tell through my light red polo shirt—the one with the stripe across the middle. It was somewhat tight fitting, so maybe you could?

I was feeling more confident about this year than I had last. I had a friend now. I was on the soccer team. I could handle this. Yeah. Go me.

I descended the stairs, thrust my backpack onto my shoulders, hugged my mother goodbye, shook the sticky-fingered little boy off my leg, and headed out to the bus stop. Tenth grade here I come.

Once I got off the bus at school, my main objective was to find Roger, because Roger makes the world go ‘round. I scanned the schoolyard, my eyes flicking around at hyperspeed. Clutching the straps of my backpack, I wondered if he’d forgotten that we’d agreed to meet outside the main office.

“REDDE!” came a yell, and before I remembered that Roger never referred to me by anything other than my first name, I spun around and yelled “HI!”

My exuberant grin flopped as the scornful, freckly face of Pete Shannon appeared above me instead of the sly, white one I’d been expecting.

“Hi yourself,” Pete snickered. “Gee, someone’s happy about getting back to school, huh?”

“I thought you were someone else,” I murmured. Someone I actually like, I thought nastily.

“What, you have a girlfriend, we don’t know about, Redde?” Pete crooned, and the horndog brigade snickered. I dropped my eyes, cheeks burning. Oh, it had been good to not see these turds all summer. The lot of them hadn’t changed a bit, though Pete was so freckly from exposing his white ribs on the beach that they’d clumped together in large brown splotches. The summer had not fixed his long, lumpy nose either. The Dombrowski twins were still barrel-chested, bristle-headed brutes, and Marcus was still the same thick-armed, dark-faced wall from before.

Pete’s fingers nipped at my shirt. “Nice pink shirt, faggot,” he sniggered.

My face felt as if it’d caught fire. “It’s red, not p-pink!” I stammered. That six-letter double-g word always set my heart to racing. “A-and, don’t call me that!”

“What are they calling you?” came a new voice from behind as an arm curled around my shoulder.

I spun around, wide-grinned again. “Roger!”

His long white face smiled down at me. “Arik!” he shrieked, good-naturedly mocking me. He glanced about at the circle of newly scowling faces around us. “Hello, boys.”

The circle of glaring eyes only narrowed farther. They really didn’t like Roger.

“What are you doing here?” Pete snarled.

Roger pointed at the large brick building behind us. “I go to school here, would you believe? I’m even a junior. Isn’t that, like, so awesome?”

“Very funny, smartass,” Pete snapped. He flicked his head where Roger had pointed. “Come on, let’s get to homeroom, guys. Arik!” he called when I didn’t move. “Aren’t you coming?”

“He’ll catch you later,” Roger told them. To me he said, “I want to show you something.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Pete growled. “Redde, come on.”

“No, that’s okay,” I said softly, amused by the battle playing over my head. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Pete rolled his eyes with an exaggerated groan. “Yeah, whatever, fag,” he muttered and stalked off, the rest of the brigade trailing after him.

Roger was laughing. “They’re just jealous because you’re my man-ho and not theirs,” he said loudly so they could hear. I laughed, color in my cheeks again, but for a different reason.

“God, they’re dumb,” he continued, to me. “I mean, really, what contaminated pond in a trailer park did our friend Shannon crawl out of?”

I laughed again, because that’s what I do 90% of the time Roger speaks. I am a man of few words and much laughter.

“Man, come on, I really do wanna show you something… meet someone,” he said, taking off across the parking lot in long strides.

“Meet someone? Who?” I asked urgently, hurrying to keep up. I liked to pretend Roger had no other friends besides me.

He turned his head and winked. “Someone beautiful.”

Oh. Girl?

He stopped suddenly, and I ran into his back. Arms spread in presentation, he stepped out of the way. “Behold.”

I was bewildered at first, as we’d stopped in front of a car, not a person as I’d expected. Then I saw the car…

“My GOD!” I gasped, gawking at the shiny black masterpiece before me. “Is-is this yours?”

Roger grinned so widely his face seemed in danger of cracking. “Isn’t she GORGEOUS?”

I stepped closer and ran my hand along its flawlessly smooth hood. It was an adorable tiny car, a two-seat convertible, painted a gleaming black with a beige interior. It was not new; rather, it was vintage and well used, but also well taken care of. For all my knowledge of airships, I know zilch about cars, but I could tell this was one cool machine.

“1970 MGB convertible,” Roger said, beaming like a glowstick.

“Where’d you ever get this? Your dad?”

He laughed dryly. “Yeah, my dad, right. Naw, he found it through a friend of his who deals in old cars. I got it really cheap for its condition, but I still had to work all summer for it. My dad chipped in $200 for my birthday, but other than that it was all me.”

“Hooray for Walmart, eh?”

He shot me a wry frown. “…and McDonalds and the Gap.”

“I don’t remember you telling me you worked at McDonalds?”

“They fired me after my first week for eating french-fries on the job.”

“They fired you for that?”

“Well, I did it more than once. That and I got somewhat sarcastic whenever I had to ask if they wanted ‘fries with that.’”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “The burger-boy look just isn’t you.”

“Si. I make a much better snotty Gap employee.”

“I imagine.”

“My dad figured I’d appreciate it more if I earned it,” Roger explained. “Damn old-fashioned bugger! I do love this car, though.”

“It’s so cool,” I agreed.

“She,” Roger corrected. “I named her Dolores.”

I snorted.

“What?” Roger asked indignantly. “You name an airship, don’t you? Same thing. Only O’DonnellSugar just doesn’t have the right ring.”

He pulled open the door and sat down in the driver’s seat. “Hop in, I’ll take you for a ride.”

“But we’ll be late for school!” I exclaimed.

“Pshh! Like the first day matters. In fact, let’s play hooky, go for a cruise, get something to eat…”

“Roger! We can’t do that, we’ll—!”

“Relax, kid, I was joking. Now, get in.” He arched his neck, beckoning.

After hesitating for only a second, I got in the passenger side and slid down into the smooth vinyl seat. Roger took my backpack from me and tossed it behind my seat. I watched admiringly as he easily worked the gears and the wheel, neck craned to see behind him as he backed out. Being fifteen, I hadn’t learned how to drive yet, although Roger, at seventeen, had had his license for a year.

“It drives different than a normal car, too, ‘cuz its so old.” He began explaining the gears, shifts, and clutches, and I nodded dumbly, having only the haziest clue what he was talking about.

We collected stares as we pulled out of the parking lot. Roger was pulling out slowly on purpose, showing off his car to the highschool populace. He waved like the Queen of England on parade, apparently seeing more awe-stricken girls and boys than I did.

“This is THE chick-cruising car, Arik, my man,” he informed me.

“Totally,” I agreed.

He turned and smiled at me, and the wind caught his hair, throwing it out in a fluttering black wave across his forehead. I felt the same wind brush through the inside of my chest, and I blushed. I sank down in the chair, eyes closed, because he was very beautiful.

He nudged me. “Arik, you sleeping?”

“Nope. I’m just enjoying the ride. It’s a Zen thing,” I replied, opening my eyes. Unfortunately, he was still lovely. I looked around me instead. I couldn’t remember ever being in a convertible before. There’s something very exhilarating about feeling the wind whipping around your ears and down your neck. I raised my arms above my head, amazed at there being no roof but the sky, and let the wind push my palms back behind me. My hair was whipping at my eyelids, windmilling around my head and batting against my scalp—Holy cow, I realized, my hair!

“Ack!” I exclaimed. “My hair is wrecked!”

Roger laughed. Taking one hand off the wheel, he reached over and rubbed my head vigorously, mussing my hair every which way as I squealed.

“Oh shush up, you girl!” he laughed.

“Rogerrrrr,” I whined.

“You’re plenty cute, I assure you, so shh!”

“But my hair--!”

“SHH!”

I fell back into my seat distraught but giggling. Roger said I was cute.

“Oy, man, where are we going?” I asked several minutes later. We’d left the school long behind and were now zipping along one of the shady forest back roads that lead to it.

“Vegas,” he replied, straight-faced.

I leaned back in the seat again, arms behind my head and closed my eyes. “Fine, so long as we’re back for first period.”

Chapter Six...