Sunny September, part eight. Best friend. Christopher.

  “I didn’t do any work in my science class, just kept on glancing around the class for an hour or however long the class was.

  All I could think about was how reality itself seemed to be falling apart.

  Perhaps unsurprisingly Chica got a big fat juicy A plus. I don’t even think I looked at my work and Mr. Carter couldn’t be bothered to mark it.

  He like most of my class had fallen under Chica’s spell. After grading Chica’s paper he was so astonished by her apparent ‘vast intellect’ that he just spent the rest of the time praising her. It’s funny because she never even tried to hide her little trick. She never answered a single question on her paper for most of the class, then miraculously had them all answered the instant Mr. Carter limped his old dilapidated ass over to her desk after giving Dwayne a B minus.

  They crowded around her the nanosecond the bell rang, the emo kid and Mexican girl joining her new group of friends. They even made a Snapchat group that I had absolutely no interest in joining.

  Despite my very perception of reality falling apart I did manage to crack a laugh briefly. Ahmed who I now know is actually from Pakistan and not India got rejected. He asked for Chica’s phone number and she turned him down using the same excuse of her parents not letting her date until sixteen. I guess he won’t be giving Thomas such a hard time anymore.

  Dwayne had remained as objective as ever, like me he was unfazed by Chica’s charm and doesn’t seem to have joined their group chat. I suspect that he knows something’s off about her but can’t quite put his finger on it yet. Still, he too fell for her deception during the basketball game like the rest of them so that’s a little odd.

  Looking back to when she took the ball and drew that drawing, what stands out to me was how everyone else perceived these events completely differently than I did. Chica was next to Lucy the entire time she was drawing that god awful picture and yet Lucy never seemed to notice the obvious inconsistency when the image changed. The same thing happened in the gymnasium. I saw and felt that ball disappear from my grasp and yet no one else noticed. These things and the fact that Chica clearly has a strange fixation on me seems to indicate that I’m somehow different than the rest. Why is it that I wasn’t deceived like the rest of them?

  When class ended and everyone started to disperse she gave me a hug. It was a little too passionate, not in a creepy way but like she was embracing a loved one she hadn’t seen in years.

  She then left with Lucy for the modelling club.”

  “Interesting.” Okimoto says, with a nervous nod as I finish explaining. “That’s some really funky stuff right there. Are you sure there wasn’t something off with that vape pen you use?”

  We both sit in our white Gi’s amongst a circle of kids surrounding a sparring match.

  In the centre Mr. Smirnov, one of the karate teachers and a man that’s kicked our asses daily for the past five years looms over the two juniors like a perched eagle. His old and grey face bears an expression of stone as he nods at one moment then shakes his head at another.

  Because of where we currently sit discussing the arrest of Markeiff directly is a mistake neither of us dare to make. Still it didn’t stop the event from hanging heavy on our shoulders. Neither of us know when the interrogation will start of if it’s already began. We don’t know if Markeiff has the will power to persevere or if he’s already been broken. Part of me believes he’ll put up a good fight, after all Shakira’s future is also at stake and I know he still loves her.

  “Elton step forward.” Mr. Smirnov commands.

  Damn. I forgot that guy was here.

  He stands up to his full height of five feet something from beside Okimoto.

  He lets out a ‘hick’ as he swerves his way to the centre of the mat weightlessly, his brown hair a matted mess, his amber eyes vacant, one naked shoulder exposed as his Gi sags.

  “What’s up with him?” I ask.

  After letting out a long sigh and running his hands through his own crazy mess of hair, Okimoto goes on to explain. “I forgot to tell you, he’s downed half a bottle of vodka. It was the stress of what happened to you know who that pushed him over the edge.”

  It’s a little funny that I’m not the only one falling apart. Normally these two both whine about my paranoia but when push comes to shove they both crack. Okimoto wasn’t his usual carefree and scheming self. Normally he never shuts up during karate, constantly instigating the other students to duel each other much to Mr. Smirnov’s disdain.

  “Brandon step forward.” Mr. Smirnov yells. “Right everyone pay close attention and remembe-… Boy are you drunk?”

  Elton tilts his head back to smile at the instructor. “Yeah I’m fucking wasted old man, I’ll still do my best I just promis-“

  “Go home.” Mr. Smirnov roars in a rage.

  Laughs from the others bounce off the trophies lining the walls. Elton passes us on his way back to the changing room, his shoulders slumped. “I’ll wait outside.”

  Several kids immediately crack jokes at his expense and shut up when Mr. Snirnov’s glare hits them like a truck.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Another boy is called up in his place as Elten vanishes in the forest of punching bags before the entrance.

  “What’s your plan for when karate class is over.” Okimoto asks, prompting an immediate scowl from me.

  “Mr. Smirnov me and Okimoto need to use the bathroom.” I yell.

  He fans us away and I practically drag Okimoto past the benches, the racks of boxing gloves and the small area at the back with some gym equipment. When we get to the bathroom I yell at a few smaller boys for them to fuck off and hold Okimoto up against the wall by his collar when they leave.

  “Are you seriously not going to do anything?” I ask in a fit of frustration.

  I know it’s a stupid question. What the fuck can he do? Despite all his bravado he had bitten off more than he can chew this time, we all did. He looks at me with an expression I’ve never seen on him before, total helplessness that’s soon followed by a nervous smile.

  He stares down at the ground, not even slightly interested in fighting back. “I’m sorry to say this, and I’m sure you’re already thinking this anyway. we’re really cooked this time. What’s worse is that it’s one of the people we never planned on including that messed it all up. I never should’ve let you talk me into letting Shakira come. Then Markeiff would’ve been at home jerking off right now and not off at the police station getting our fate’s sealed.”

  “I didn’t have a choice!” I immediately defend myself. “You started running your mouth about the dynamite for the world to hear in Dashawn’s bathrooms. You’re lucky it was only Shakira that overheard you and even luckier she only asked to come with us and didn’t call the cops.”

  “I wasn’t saying that it’s your fault.” He sighs as I let him go and he almost slides down to his knees before catching himself on the sink and erecting to his full height that equals mine. “What’s your plan for when class is over?”

  “Don’t ask me that shit a second time!” I whine. “What fucking plan? What could I possibly be planning right now Okimoto, tell me? I know! I’ll have you dress up as a hooker fuck the officers to distract them and I’ll pull some James Bond shit out of my ass and bust Markeiff out. Come on man, I have a phobia of stupid questions and you just gave me a jump scare.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know man.”

  Where’s the energy this fool had last night?

  I start laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “Mannn… we should just dip out of California altogether.”

  Okimoto scratches his head before rubbing the crinkles on his collar smooth. “Screw it you’re right. Let’s grab Elton and fuck off out of here.”

  I look at him like he’s stupid, praying that he didn’t just take my frantic words seriously.

  “Before we go you’ll have to visit Shakira and make her claim that we kidnapped her last night and forced her to watch.” He says. “By doing that she won’t be charged with anything alongside us just in case we’re arrested before we can flee the state.”

  “You’re actually serious?”

  “Well yeah.” He answers frankly. “What else is there to do? It’s either that or we sit and wait for the cops to arrest us.”

  “We can’t just leave,” I reason, “where will we go? Where will we sleep and get money? This is a stupid idea Okimoto. Where will we get fake ID’s? We’d live easier lives if we just do the time.”

  He groans before rubbing his hand down his face. “Are you still going to that party with the Seven Sisters?”

  “What the hell?” I hiss. “Don’t change the subject to some fuckshit.”

  “The subject has been settled.” He replies bluntly. “We don’t need to discuss anything related to the sign any further. What’s happened has happened and we can’t change the past.”

  “So you won’t be running away?”

  He shakes his head. “When I think about it you’re right. Facing the consequences head on is the path of least resistance right now. As for why I asked about the party, I just want to know if the tag team is still on.”

  “HELL NO.” I say putting extra finesse into the no.

  He walks past me before looming over the urinal.

  As the sizzle of piss hitting the urinal sounds he continues to speak. “I haven’t screwed in two months. Since we’re going to jail I’ll dedicate the night to having sex one last time. There aren’t any women around in prison and guys aren’t my thing. You should do the same. Chica was her name right? I’m not sure about all of that supernatural stuff you were talking about, but I’m pretty sure she’s into you. I mean she gave you her number so casually despite rejecting those other boys it can’t get anymore obvious than that.”

  I have no words for him. I find the fact that that’s his first priority to be so annoyingly like him.

  After karate class I hop on my bike and pedal home to shower as the sun begins to set over Los Angeles. Checking my phone along the way I see no breaking news relating to the sign which brings me a fragment of relief.

  I get home throw my sweaty Gi into the washing machine then dive into my second shower of the day.

  An hour passes and I’m at Shakira’s doorstep in a fresh pair of clothes.

  I’m on the tenth story of the apartment complex, looking through the window to my left I see Santa Monica Pier in the distance, a past agony crowned in the final blood hued rays of the sun.

  We played there a lot before that day. I remember the angels me and Shakira made in the sand, the time she flew into a panic attack thinking she’d die of poisoning after stepping on a sea urchin. I remember the time I slapped a mosquito dead, I then rolled its body into a little ball of filth between my fingers and flicked it into some random woman’s coffee when she wasn’t looking.

  A long scroll of memories unravels in my mind, unraveling until I inevitably see what happened the last time I visited the place two years ago. I roll the scroll shut and knock on the door.

  It isn’t long before Shakira opens the door to face me in tears. When she sees me her face goes from surprised to relieved to regretful before she manages to say a single word.

  “Hi…” She mutters, her tone flat and broken.

  “You look like you’ve been through it,” I say, “let me guess they tore you a new one?”

  She shakes her head before speaking with a cracking voice. “Mom and dad aren’t home yet, and I don’t think I have the strength to tell them.”

  “Then don’t.” I say. “Okimoto suggested to me that you play the role of a victim who was forced to watch the rest of us.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “What I’m saying is lie to get yourself out of trouble.”

  She stutters. “But I threw you the lighter…”

  I let out a suffering sigh. “Just do it. Even if you never threw me the lighter I still would’ve used the one Okimoto got from Markeiff.”

  “No it’s wrong your sentences will… no! I won’t talk as if it’s guaranteed you’ll be locked up.”

  Not in the mood for an argument I turn to leave giving her some parting words as I head for the stairs. “You have an out so go with it. Don’t worry about us we can take care of ourselves.”

  I hear her cry out for me to wait before fast steps follow me down the stairs.

  I stop, groan then look back into her watery eyes.

  “It’s not right.” She whimpers.

  “Like I just said you have a way out of this.” I say turning to continue down. “What you do is your choice. Tell your parents I said hi when they’re home. They won’t be seeing me for a bit.”

  “They already haven’t seen you in a year…”

  “Yeah and they won’t be seeing me for at least ten more.”

  “Come inside… please.” She pleads.

  The cracks in her voice shatter my heart. I hate this feeling.

  I feel her delicate arms wrap around my waist as she hugs me from behind.

  “My parents won’t be back for a few hours.” She says. “Do you really want to leave me all alone when this might be the last day we walk freely?”

  “If you’re smart it’s only the last day I walk freely.”

  “Just come inside.”