Chapter Text
But I was a pushy little one
When you tried find someone new
I just kinda waited around
Because what else was I supposed to do?
The Menzingers – “Where Your Heartache Exists”
Chapter 1
Aubrey always found it hard to come home to this place – the squalid, moldering dump at the end of street where she spent as little time as possible. After spending Sunday wandering around in the sunshine with Sunny and Kel, it was particularly depressing: the flickering yellow of a streetlight shining on black plastic bags of junk and illuminating missing patches of roof shingles, feet squelching in mudholes that never quite dried up, long-uncut grass catching at her ankles. The glow in Aubrey’s heart, from the day she’d just had, threatened to flicker and die; as, coming into the living room, she was confronted with the sight of her slovenly mother, in a stained night dress, cracking open another can of beer on the couch in front of the TV. Aubrey dashed up the stairs, desperate to avoid any interaction with mother, and turned and locked the door of her room behind her.
She quickly fed Bun-bun, and then flung herself down on the bed with a sigh, and covered her face with her pillow.
It had been the first time she’d seen Sunny since he’d moved, just over a month ago; a month Aubrey had spent thinking about the past, and processing what he’d told them about what happened with Mari. At that time he’d looked pale, sickly, frightened – a genuine ghost out of the past. And what he’d revealed had rocked everyone. But at the same time… everything suddenly, finally made sense. Like those pine trees out West, which need the heat of a forest fire to bust open their cones: it made a fresh start, and it felt possible to do something like moving on at last.
Already, Sunny himself looked revitalized. He’d put on weight, gained some color; he was still the quiet, deadpan kid he’d been before, but unmistakably, Aubrey had seen it flickering behind his eyes again: the dry, unexpected humor, the subtle intelligence he’d displayed all those years ago. To her immense surprise, she’d realized today that it still had the power to make her heart skip a beat; and where the last time they’d been together he’d been a tiny child, now he was on the verge of becoming a man.
She stood up, went over to the beat-up little vanity in the corner of her room, looked in the mirror. What an opportunity Sunny had for himself, too, Aubrey thought – to start over in a new place, with no past, and no reputation. Nobody knew him, or believed anything about him there. He could be anything he wanted. She looked at her wild pink hair; took out her bright blue contacts, wiped away the winged eyeliner. Even if she changed her look, she would still be remembered as the angry rebel girl in Faraway Town for a long time to come. And – did Sunny like her like this? When they’d known each other she’d been dark-haired. Cutesy. She still had the pink ribbon in the drawer here; she took it out, held it up to her head. It was too small now, and the girl who’d worn it was gone forever.
Aubrey took out her phone. Sunny had a mobile now, and they’d exchanged numbers earlier that day; but there were no messages. She closed her eyes, held it tight, and willed it to buzz. Buzz! Come on! But nothing. She turned the camera on, tried to line up a selfie; but behind her was the cracked plaster and, on the wall – a big spider. Ugh! She tossed her phone onto the bed and kicked her feet in frustration. Sunny had escaped this place, and she was left here, the broke girl with bad grades from the broken home. What a catch, right?
Maybe the right thing to do would be to let him find a nice normal girl, and to forget about the past…
But Aubrey picked up her phone again. Forget the right thing. That’s my little Sunny… I know he didn’t forget about me. I know it. She thought about the way he’d looked at her today – there was feeling there, right? Right? Uuuugh! She had to text him. Had to. She opened Messages; composed one, deleted it, composed another one… Sunny! Why won’t you text me first, you stupid boy?
“Should you really be getting home this late?” said Ross. Ross was Sunny’s mom’s boyfriend; a man who wore a tie even when he was at home, and who had cultivated a stiff black mustache that looked like a strip of rubber. Sunny imagined Ross would soon be his stepdad; this thought did not fill Sunny with joy.
“Uh. I don’t know,” said Sunny.
“I just think your mom would feel safer if you got home when the sun was still out. Don’t you think, sport?” said Ross.
“Maybe.”
“Is your homework done, at least?”
“Yeah. I did it yesterday.”
“Well. You’ve got a plate in the fridge. Your mother hoped you would eat Sunday dinner with us, you know.”
“Ah… right. Thanks. Ross.”
“Don’t stay up too late, alright?”
“Yeah.”
This must be what they call “parenting,” Sunny thought. The man, Ross, it seemed like he meant well; but his frequent presence in the new house – he hadn’t moved in yet, why didn’t he ever go to his own house? - wasn’t making it any easier to get settled in. This place still felt strange: it was clean and neat, organized; no piano, obviously, that had been sold, and all the old toys and books were in storage. Almost all the memories had been put away, in fact: except, on the mantel over the fireplace, at Sunny’s insistence, were a set of framed photos of the family as it had once been. Including Mari. Sunny glanced at them, on his way to his room – he made a point of it. He was living in the real world now. Looking at those pictures made him feel pain. Good. Let me feel it, he thought.
Sunny’s room had all new furniture, metal shelves, a glass-topped desk, very modern and adult. He sat in his swiveling office chair, and looked back at the day. His first in Faraway Town in over a month; he really hadn’t been planning to go, but Kel had gotten his number off his mom and texted him every day until he relented. And if it had pained them to see Mari’s little brother – the killer – again, they hadn’t let it show. No, on the contrary: it had been a lovely day. They had got milkshakes and walked around the park; Sunny and Aubrey exchanging glances while Kel blathered on about his new workout routine, and how Sunny could start doing it too. “You’ve been indoors too long, dude. We’re in our prime now! It’s time to get strong!” Kel had said, flexing his biceps.
Aubrey… she hadn’t said a lot, just let Kel take the lead. And even when Kel had tried to nettle her in his usual way, she’d just blushed and mumbled. Sunny sighed. She’d probably fallen in love with Kel while he’d been in hiding. Who could blame her? Kel was tall, fit, handsome, and optimistic – everything he, Sunny, wasn’t. But what a shame – in the intervening years she’d become so fiercely beautiful. (And fairly towering herself.)
Sunny thought back to who they’d been as kids; Aubrey, his first crush, the thought of whom had kept him awake countless nights. Every second with her felt like an adventure; any step you took with her might lead you to a new adventure. He didn’t think he’d ever really get over Aubrey. But he’d missed his chance, and that’s just the way it was. Wasn’t it?
Even so, he opened his bottom desk drawer, and pulled out Mr. Plantegg – the little stuffed animal he’d salvaged from the old treehouse right before they’d got in the car to leave Faraway Town. He gave it a squeeze, and felt a little pang in his heart to think that at some point, however long ago, Aubrey had squeezed Mr. Plantegg too.
Then there was a buzz in his pocket – his cellphone. A text message? He pulled it out.
“So prom’s in a few weeks. Got anyone to go with yet?” it read.
It was from Harper – the girl with the bushy brown hair and the round glasses, from his homeroom class. Just a couple days after he transferred to South Woodlawn High, she’d come right up to him and introduced herself, and asked him for his cell number. Since then, they said hi to each other in the halls, and worked together sometimes during study hall; and every now and then she’d send him pictures of her fluffy orange tomcat, Melville.
“I haven’t thought about it. I probably won’t go,” Sunny sent back absently. Prom? Like… with suits? And dancing? He wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t thought about it.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow at school :) “ came the reply from Harper.