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Peter sat on the bench outside the Hatchetfield High football field, a chill in the air. Their game against the Sycamore Timberwolves had gone as well as one could expect, it was no surprise that Hatchetfield got their ass kicked once again. He remembered the chat of Brenda and her friends as they left. If only Max Jägerman could have been there, they had said. If only he didn’t go missing like so many others in Hatchetfield. If only the cops hadn’t found him chopped to bits under the floorboards of the old Waylon Place that was now being torn down and rebuilt from the ground up.
And Peter knew all of it, every part of it, was his fault. He had let Steph try to cheat on the test, he had gone along with Grace’s stupid plan to scare him. Like Max would ever be scared by Micro Peter Spankoffski in a bad Lin Manuel Maranda cosplay that they were calling a ghost. It was all stupid and pointless, and for what? For a criminal record and no more punches to the face? Peter would rather need to put up with Max for one more year then deal with the aftermath for the rest of his life. Not to mention the loneliness he had forced into the back of his mind.
He watched a car pull up to the school, banged up and one of its headlights out, “Hey Spankoffski,” it was a familiar voice, one Peter wished he didn’t listen to every time he heard it, “You just gonna sit there in the cold?”
Peter looked at Steph through the dirty car window, before approaching the vehicle and entering the front passenger seat, his arms crossed. Steph looked at him, concerned, “Are you alive?” she asked, waving her hand in front of him. He slapped it away.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just-” he huffed, “Just drive.”
Steph gave him a weird look, before putting the car into park, “You’re being weirder than normal, what’s on your mind?” she turned her head to him, bringing one of her legs up to her stomach.
He glanced at her, before looking down at his feet, “You ever wonder what would’ve happened if Max just-”
“Didn’t fall?” Steph finished his sentence for him, something she knew he hated, “Every damn day.”
“Today was…” he grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket, “It was Richie’s birthday. He, Ruth, and I would always go to Pizza Pete’s for our birthdays, it was the only place Max wouldn’t think to bother us. It was Richie’s favorite, he had all these high scores for most of the games. He and I used to play the Luigi’s Mansion co-op game for hours while Ruth played air hockey with Richie’s Uncle Paul who would tag along with his girlfriend.” Steph looked at Peter, practically terrified. Peter caught her eye, and laughed, “I’m just making a big deal out of nothing, right?” Steph shook her head slowly, watching Peter’s eyes fill with tears before she wrapped her arms around him, “I miss them a lot.”
“I know, Pete,” she sighed into his shoulder, “What’s on the paper, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh- right,” Peter let go of Stephanie, and read it out loud to her, “It’s from Richie’s uncle. He said that he was sorry that things turned out the way they did, and that I was welcome for dinner at any time. He also gave me a Pizza Pete’s token card, it was the one Richie always used. It has so many points saved up on it. He was saving up for a Switch,” Peter gave Steph the letter to look at, and she put the side of her hand up to her mouth and lightly chewed on her ring.
“Pete,” she frowned and looked at him, speechless, “I’m sorry I don’t really have much to say-”
Peter cut her off and sighed, “It’s fine, Steph. Can we just go home?” Steph nodded, and they drove off to the Spankoffski house.
When they arrived, the lights in the windows were all dim, and there wasn’t a sound from the street, “Peter,” Steph touched his hand, “Thank you for telling me. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
Peter nodded his head, before shutting the car door and going into his house. Stephanie watched a light turn on in the window, before driving off across town. Peter sat alone in his room, looking down at his phone which was open to his old group chat with Ruth and Richie, where he and he alone had sent a happy birthday message that morning, seen by no one. He made a fist, before violently throwing his phone into his old bean bag chair in frustration, before grabbing bits of his hair, “Damn it!” he cursed to himself, banging his fists into the mattress next to him and kneeling down.
There was a breeze blowing through the open window of his bedroom, a window he hadn’t closed despite how cold it was now. He remembered nights where he snuck Ruth and Richie out that same window, nights where his older brother wasn’t home and they’d have sleepovers when his mom was away. 3 months had passed since those sleepovers, since he got the thrill of sneaking them out his bedroom window.
Peter grabbed his phone from the bean bag, “Hey Siri,” there was a beep from the phone, “Remind me tomorrow morning to call Ruth and Richie.”
“Ok,” the robotic voice spoke quietly, before Peter shut his phone off and rested it on his bed. He frowned, hoping just for a moment that maybe somehow his phone wouldn’t go to voicemail this time, that he could hear the voices of his two best friends again. Although the logical side of him knew it would never happen, he still decided to hold out hope just in case there was another outcome, just to be completely sure.