Cardboard Hearts

#4: part 2

Book 2:
Lord of the Flies
William Golding

Andy smiled to himself as he strolled down the street away from the bookstore. It was dusk, and the fading sun left streaks of purple and pink throughout the cloudy sky. A slight breeze swept over him, but he didn't feel the chill.

He felt invincible.

As Andy walked, he pondered his options. He could go back home, hope that his father would let him in and try to forget about their fight.

He could beg some money off his ex-girlfriend who definitely still felt bad about their break-up, and use it to get a hotel room.

Or, he could call a friend he hadn't spoken to in 5 years and ask to stay at his place.

~•~

Half an hour later, he was standing awkwardly in the doorway of Blake's apartment.

"Heard you got in a bit of trouble with the old thief," his friend drawled as he leaned against the wall. Blake was a tall red-head with a leather jacket and a permanent scowl. Andy had never liked him that much, but when you get stuck with someone for every single assignment in high school English class, you learn to get along.

"Yeah, I won't be going back there for awhile," he replied.

He stepped cautiously into the house and peered around the corner to see a dimly-lit living room strewn with pizza boxes and paper plates. After stepping through a land mine full of half-empty beer cans, Andy found a spot on the edge of a grimy couch that was probably filled with ants. He perched precariously on the edge and tried to contain his grimace.

"Well, uh, thanks for letting me stay here."

"Sure, no problem. There's probably a blanket in the closet if you wanna crash on the couch. And there's some pizza left if you're hungry."

Yeah, I think I'll pass.

Blake, who was still leaning near the door, shifted his feet awkwardly. "So, uh, how've you been?"

"I'm doing okay. Other than, you know, my dad kicked me out and I'm quite literally broke."

"Haha, yeah. Sorry about that."

The silence stretched, taut and heavy, between the two. Blake would look anywhere but Andy's eyes.

Andy began distractedly playing with a piece of paper he'd found on the table; folding it up, crinkling it, smoothing it out, and starting the process all over again. The only sound in the room was of the paper whispering its secrets to the air.

"Hey, me and some buddies are going out for a drink. Wanna come?" Blake said finally.

Andy frowned and glanced at the tattered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird sitting on the table. The dusty, faded letters were calling to him, inviting him to be someone else for just a little while.

Well, he thought, it's either this or an awkward night with people I haven't seen in years.

He shrugged and tried to look apologetic. "Actually, I'm kinda tired out after today. I think I'll stay here."

Blake gave him a relieved smile and slowly backed out the door. "Alright, man. That's cool. I'll be back before morning. Try not to wreck anything, 'kay?"

Andy smiled back. "You know me. I can't make any promises."

And with that, he was alone.

He gingerly brushed off some napkins and crumpled beer cans from the sofa and settled down to read a book for the first time in years. He opened to the first page and squinted at the tiny lettering.