7 Days (BxB)

~4

          Sunday rolled around. The day of rest. But resting was the last thing on my mind. The first thing on my mind, you might wonder, was a pair of big brown eyes, dropping at the corners and seeping into my bones. And, of course, the constant sting on my elbows from the rough pavement. Bastard.

I didn't tell my parents about the incident. They would never cease their worrying. Besides, it's not like it pained me, or scarred me for life. In fact, I was pretty much over it. Well, I was over the damage Mr. Maddison might have inflicted on me, but that boy was glued into my mind. What about the damage inflicted on him? If his father could get that angry over a single accident, what went down every day in the walls of that grey-blue house? I didn't want the details. But I was determined to find out.

There was no paper delivered on Sunday, so I was off the hook. For the most part, at least. My mother, being a God-fearing woman, insisted we go to church every Sunday, first service, bright and early. My dad was the same, but being the mess-of-a-man he was, he always slept in making us late every. Single. Time.

Take today, for example. The whole cathedrals eyes were on us. Judgmental. Don't get me wrong, I thought the message here was great, but the people? Not so much. Shouldn't they all be loving and caring and compassionate? They were the opposite, cold enough to drill holes through your skull.

It lasted for what seemed to be hours. No, scratch that, days. Was the pastor's voice supposed to be that monotone? Was the choir's rhythm supposed to lull the whole room to sleep? Soph sure thought so. She blew spit bubbles from her lips, passed out in my mother's arms.

I had a plan for tonight. It took thought. It caused my knees to jitter and my fists to clench with excitement. That only made the service longer. But as I said before, I was determined.

"George! Dinner!"

"Got it, ma!"

I didn't really get it. I had stuff to ponder. Dinner was just an interruption. I pounded down the stairs, ignoring the fifth step, whipped around the corner and plopped down in a chair.

My mother gave me an amused look. She spoke while the pile of green beans she served taunted me, "What's got you in a hurry?"

So many studies say that if you plug your nose while you eat, you can't taste the food. But this was bull in my opinion. The awful taste of the beans, the slimy texture sticking to your gums, never ceased to make me gag. "Stuff," I simply replied. I stuffed up my courage and downed the beans. I had somewhere to be and the sky looked dark enough.

But then she slapped chicken on my plate. "Ma," I whined.

She just gave me a look. It was enough to get me to eat it.

"I hope you said a prayer," she warned.

Please, God, let me not die tonight. Amen. I nodded, "Sure did."

Pa and Soph rolled around in the living room, playfully tackling each other. Soph had a major disadvantage, being three years old, but she won every fight all the same.

"Dad, how is she ever going to learn to defend herself if you let her win every time?" I said it through a mouth full of chicken.

"Ah," he grinned a big white grin, "eat your chicken, Georgie."

Then ma began yelling at my father to sit down, not before giving him a tender kiss.

I was done just as Soph began eating.

"Hey, hey, hey, where are you off to, bucky?" my father asked.

"Mars." I slung my backpack over my shoulder. My sneaker, scuffed and worn, tattered and beaten, lay next to the door like an old friend. I slipped them on.

Dad didn't even argue. He knew not to at this point. My head was filled with too much imagination to question, as he stated. So off to Mars it was.

I kissed all three of them on the cheek, took one last bite per ma's request, then shut the door to step into the chill of the night air. I wrapped my jacket closer to my body.