a day to forget

II

This was the thing for which they both lived. The almost-summer sun warm on their skin. The rumble of an enormous red beast beneath them, obeying Czerny's every command. The road, stretching, infinite, to the horizon.
But they both knew it had changed.
Noah couldn't blame his friend for being the silent, dark creature he was now. It must be hard to lose so much. Barrington Whelk had lost his life.
Noah couldn't imagine ever falling that far.
Now, Whelk stared out the window, watching as they passed field after field.
"The fuck are you looking at?" shouted Whelk.
"Nothing. Sheesh."
Two days ago, Whelk had been the shit at Aglionby. Amiable, friendly, and with a diverse group of friends. Rich. About to graduate near the top of the class.
Now he didn't even have a place to sleep.
It must be tough to be poor.
They turned off of the highway, onto a dirt road. The wheels of the Mustang kicked up trails of dust in their wake. Whelk turned awkwardly in the leather seat to look at the plumes of ineffective destruction they caused.
The separation grew thicker by the second. The silence was all but impenetrable.
"So," asked Noah, "what's the plan?"
"The plan is that there is no plan," Whelk lied. Even Noah could tell he was bullshitting from his shifty eyes.
"No, man, what the hell are we going to sacrifice?"
Whelk pretended to think. "I think that I've lost enough already."
Neither said the thing they were both thinking: that sacrifice and loss were in no ways equal.