Chapter Text
The door of the minivan slides open beside Josh, stirring him from a surprisingly sound sleep. "First day of school, kids! Let's get going," his mother announces.
He rubs the sleep from his eyes, stretches his aching back, and gathers his things: a fresh T-shirt and jeans plus his trademark snapback, his toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant, and a cologne sample pulled from a magazine he found in the lobby of the Flamingo last month. As he jumps out of the car and slips his sneakers on, his sister breezes past him with her own pile of toiletries on the way across the parking lot to the 24-hour Walmart.
"Hey, wait up!" Josh calls after her, jogging to catch up. She turns around and flashes him a mischievous grin.
"Race ya," she challenges.
Josh bolts toward her, weaving through the few remaining cars in the lot. The unnaturally humid morning air sticks to his face as he struggles to keep a lead. As active as he is, Abby's been on the track team since middle school. She just barely beats him to the automatic doors.
He huffs out a laugh as she bounces around in a victory dance. "You win this time," he says, "but next time we're having a drum battle. No way you could beat me at that."
"Try me, big bro," Abby replies. They fall into step beside each other, walking the familiar path to the customer bathrooms.
"Oh, you're on," Josh scoffs, then heads into the men's room.
Walmart bathrooms are actually much nicer than they're made out to be. The floors are clean, most of the toilets work, and there's room for more than one tired teen at a time, cutting the family's morning routine in half on days like these. When you brush your teeth in gas station bathrooms most mornings, the occasional supermarket is a luxury. Josh is glad they had enough gas money to get here last night. He feels just a bit more like a normal kid.
Josh finishes freshening up to the best of his ability and reconvenes with Abby in front of the water fountains. He doesn't miss the slight glare the cashier throws their way as they walk out; they're really not supposed to use the facilities if they aren't shopping, but their parents came in for some canned vegetables when they arrived last night, so the employees can't really say anything against it. That doesn't mean Josh isn't ashamed anyway.
They pass Jordan and Ashley on the way, throwing up peace signs and hurrying them along so they won't be running late. When they arrive back, Josh takes his seat in the middle row and reaches for his backpack to check that he has all the supplies he needs. Dollar Store notebook: check. Handful of pencils "borrowed" from classmates over the years: check. Free lunch pass: check. He wishes he could have re-dyed his hair before the start of the year, but at least he's saved up almost enough to buy his favorite brand. Maybe next weekend.
As soon as the whole family has taken their turns getting ready, the Duns roll out of the parking lot and head to Kissimmee Central High School. Josh leans his head against the window. Colorful souvenir storefronts and neon motel signs zoom by as they drive, blurring together into a bright pastel rainbow.
“You working today, Dad?” Jordan asks.
“No,” their father answers. The normally cheerful mood in the car drops a little.
“But I’m in charge at Y-Time this afternoon,” their mother says. “The mothers are tipping me lately for “dealing with” their kids.”
“You’re still taking those? Laura, you know it’s just a pity donation. They just want to look like they care about all this,” their dad sighs.
"It's better than nothing."
The rest of the trip is quiet.
When the car pulls up to the high school, the older siblings hop out with one last wave to their parents and join the throng of students milling around the front entrance. Josh watches the minivan peal out of the drop-off circle toward the middle school, then steels himself and heads inside.
He wanders the halls in search of his homeroom, ignoring the familiar faces around him. Josh doesn't really have a big group of friends at school like everyone else. He doesn't have much time for friends anymore, now that his family is struggling just to get by. Most evenings, he's busy taking care of his siblings or visiting the local bakeries and farmer's markets to pick up free past-due bread and fruit. Sometimes he brings his homemade bucket drum set into town and busks in the park for a few extra bucks.
He's used to it, though. It's been this way for four years now.
When the loneliness gets to him, he likes to think of it as an adventure. In this fairy tale, Josh is a dashing knight traveling through the Kingdom of Kissimmee on a quest to find the grand treasure that will support his loving family back home in the village of Minivan. And adventurers don't have time to settle down in each village they pass through, no, they're too busy fighting dragons and following treasure maps. His mission is much more important than making nice with the locals.
Josh turns a corner and finally sees it at the end of the hall: Room 147, his homeroom this year. He makes his way forward, dodging more groups of friends and oblivious couples. He's almost there when a slim body suddenly crashes into him. He stumbles backward, barely catching himself, and the other kid blushes profusely as he bends to pick up his dropped books.
The boy looks as exhausted as he is flustered, with heavy grey bags under his eyes and his hair sticking out in all directions. Josh briefly wonders why that would be. It's only the first day of school, how stressed out could he be already?
Josh observes him more, searching for signs of trouble. He's wearing a wrinkled button-up and black jeans that are slightly too big on him. In fact, the boy is so lanky that all his clothes sort of just hang off of him. Is he eating enough?
As Josh stares for just a bit too long, the boy shoots his gaze around rapidly, refusing to make eye contact. “Um…” he begins shakily, “S-sorry about that.”
Then he's gone as soon as he appeared, slinking off past Josh like he was hiding from someone.
Strange.
Josh is drumming in the music room during his free period when he sees the boy again. A tuft of messy brown hair flies through the double doors and his body follows close behind as he heads straight for a practice room. He closes the door behind him as soon as he crosses the threshold, and doesn’t leave the tiny brick cell once.
Josh takes a detour towards the practice rooms on his way out at the end of the period. He glances through the small window in the door, trying his best to look inconspicuous, and sees that the boy is sitting in front of a piano. He isn't playing, though. He’s just holding his head in his hands.