in his room, playing Hendrix’s guitar. He wasn’t bad, considering he only played once or twice a week.
The bus lurched and sputtered to three more stops before finally reaching Gardenia Close. I grabbed my bag from between my feet, swinging through the seats as the bus slowed.
Everett got up just as I reached the front and clung tight to the metal pole.
His emerald eyes narrowed.
I offered another small smile, then cleared my throat and threw myself down the stairs as soon as the bus stopped, and the doors smacked open.
As I walked down the street, the soft crunch of Everett’s boots sounded behind me, just as they did on every other day. Something about that day felt different, though, as if I was more aware of every little detail in the world. The crisp breeze that swept in off the sea, and the orange hue of the afternoon sun warming my face and arms.
The steps of worn boots and… the smell of cigarette smoke.
Coming to a stop, I looked over my shoulder, about to ask him why he was smoking, but he was already taking quick strides to his house across the street.
No cars were parked out front, but the driveway was still stained with car fluids from the previous tenants. The grass was a little too long. Weeds sprouted between the cracks in the brick drive and the small, mostly empty, garden beds.
Everett climbed the small hill of the front yard and opened the door, the cigarette still between his fingers as he disappeared through it.
I kicked at some rocks on the concrete sidewalk, then turned and headed inside.
I had homework to do, as well as a load of dirty clothes I told Mom I’d start. Hendrix had not long ago begun soccer again, and Mom and Dad were a little uneasy about having me home alone after school since they didn’t finish work until five.
Sick of hanging out at Mom’s work while I waited for her to finish, I promised them I’d be fine, and that they’d see just how much they could trust me after one week.
They’d looked at me with not a small amount of wariness but had eventually folded. I tried not to grumble about the fact they thought Hendrix was more mature just because he was older than me by sixteen months.
Hendrix was often the furthest thing from mature.
I stuffed the clothes from the hamper into the machine, not bothering to separate the colors from the whites like Dad preferred. I never did on my days to wash, and he never seemed to notice. I had no intentions of wasting my life fussing over items of clothing, thank you. They were to be purchased, comfortable, and worn, then washed and dried. No frills and no fuss.
Digging a bruise-free apple out of the fruit bowl, I chomped on it as I unpacked my bag, setting my math homework on the dining table with my favorite pack of crayons.
Then I put some music on.
That was the thing about living in a house with fellow music lovers and musicians. Rarely did one ever get to listen to their preference for too long, unless we retired to our rooms or used headphones.
Between the end and start of a new song, a knock sounded on the door.
I tossed what remained of my apple into the trash, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand on my way down the hall.
Everett stood on the other side of the door, blinking slowly and trying to hide a tiny gash on his bottom lip that hadn’t been there before by scratching at his long nose.
“What happened?”
He ignored my question. “Hendrix here?”
“He’s at soccer practice.” I felt a pang in my bottom lip when he stepped back and rubbed a thumb over the cut. “He didn’t tell you?”
His golden brows tugged in, and he nodded. “He did, guess I forgot.”
I swallowed, unsure of what to do. I knew he needed a place to be at the very least. “Wanna wait for him here?”
He blew out a breath, looking back at his house, then nodded again, brushing past me to head inside.
In the kitchen, I grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer, and while wrapping them in a layer of paper towel, I tried again. “What happened to your lip?”
“Fuck,” he hissed, slumping into a seat at the dining table. “Nothing.” Within seconds, his fingers were drumming to the beat of “Gimme Shelter” by the Stones. “Just… mind your business,