CHAPTER FIVE

"Right, Faith?" Deep into my daydreams, a voice pulled me back down to Earth.

"What?" I pulled the screen from my face.

But even in this reality, the cold followed. It took all life from my complexion and froze the blood that once ran red through my cheeks.

"You want to go too, right?" Avery's world was so cluelessly untouched by the frost.

"Yeah. we should," I swallowed, trying to force down the pins and needles that buried themselves into the base of my throat.

I placed my phone on the seat at my side, hoping that the distance would keep the pieces of the past from shattering me completely.

*

There was a specific kind of chaos that filled the streets on this side of town.

The houses were in a similar shape as the main road. Run down. Uneven. Cracked. But that didn't seem to matter.

People still walked the crooked sidewalks. Children played in the unkempt lawns. And cars raced to their destinations over each bump and crater.

Standing proudly at the corner, a large sign rejoiced in: GASOLINA MART, with smaller details below that advertised: gas station, hot food, deli, and more!

While everything else in this world required the usual basic necessities, it was this small gas station that brought life to the area.

With a loud roar, an old pickup truck departed from one of the gas pumps. Following its leave—and at a speed that did not honor the city speed limit—a black four-door rushed in to take the now empty spot. 

The driver swiftly moved the car into park. From the outside, it was impossible to see past the windows' extremely dark tint. But what the car lacked visually was made up for by the music blasting from the speakers.

The metal frame did what it could to contain the noise inside. But its efforts had gone to waste when the driver's side door swung open and an overflow of bass, notes, and lyrics came spilling out.

Walking alongside them was a boy. He had a slender build and raven black hair. His clothes were nice enough to suggest moderate wealth, but the used car he drove placed him firmly in a middle-class bracket.

Everything about him appeared abstract in this specific image. He was an innocent prey who had unknowingly ventured inside the lion's den.

But as he moved toward the other side of the car, his body language didn't suggest any feelings of anxiety.

In fact, the opposite seemed true. He knew all the motions: when to walk, where to stand, and which method would get the damaged pump to do its job.

Nothing seemed to surprise him. Not the people trading money for small pleasures at the front of the store. Not the backfire from cars that popped like gunshots.

Only the ringing in his pocket was able to break his concentration.

"Hello?" Subconsciously, his hands worked to secure the gas cap back in place, while his conscious mind listened. "Don't worry about it. We've got plenty of time." He paused, the sound of sirens piercing through his train of thought.

His entire body followed the police cars down the street until the air was free from the noise. "I'm at Gasolina right now. I just gotta grab Jack, and then we're coming." He finished without missing a beat.

The caller wrapped up the conversation after that, and the boy tucked the phone back into his pocket.

There was an ease in his walk as he returned to the driver's side door. With one swift motion, all life was pulled from the engine.

The lot didn't suffer without his music; it thrived perfectly fine on its own, a cascade of sounds rushing to the forefront.

Without looking back, he locked the car behind him and made his way towards the convenience store.

"Sir, do you have any—" A woman walked towards him just as he reached for the handle. It wasn't hard to guess what she wanted.

There was only one favor the loiters asked for. And they used it to pay for their substance of choice. "No," was all the boy said. And he pulled the door open and stepped inside without a second thought.

*

Inside, a small line had formed. He secured his spot behind a woman and her child. And waited for his turn at the one register.

It felt like a lifetime. The woman's child grew restless. And it was hard not to stare. But he did his best not to look, even as she shifted her case of canned mixed drinks to her other arm and tried to pull the wailing child off the dirty floor.

By some miracle, another register opened up. And he jumped at the opportunity. "Let me get two of the berry fushion."

The cashier was an older gentleman. He had a gold chain that dangled onto his white muscle tee and a cigarette behind his ear.

"ID?"

All color drained from the young boy's face. His mind reached for words, but nothing came out from between his parted lips.

"Nah, I'm just messing with you Aiden," The store worker laughed, almost too loudly,  at his own joke.

Aiden's head shook back and forth as he pulled a twenty from his wallet. "I can't even lie. You got me. I thought you were serious." The store worker coughed up another hearty laugh.

"It's graduation today, isn't it?" He asked Aiden from the large wall of cigars behind the counter.

"Yeah man. It's crazy."

"Congratulations. I graduated about twenty-five years ago, I think. It doesn't feel like it though." There was no discretion in the exchange. He handed Aiden the two fuschia cigar packages and took the money. "So, how's your mom doing?"

"She's—" The boy's words trailed off. "Crazy," The response was so quiet, it was barely eligible. But still, the cashier heard it.

Each fit of laughter was louder than the last, like it was his intention to include everyone in the store in their conversation. "Yeah. I liked that about her." A crooked smile flowered in the corner of his mouth.

"Listen, we did just get some new—" The man leaned closer, his tone now hushed. "Stuff. If you're interested."

"I don't know. I gotta go pick up my friend here in a minute." He hesitated. "You know what? It's fine. I've got time."

Aiden joined him behind the counter, and the man seemed pleased. "Watch over things for me." He called, and the two of them disappeared into the back room.

EIGHTEEN © Wordstothewise ™ 2024