January 10th, 1999 ; winter .

* "Dude, where were you today?" Robbie questioned, playing with Merlin on the floor of the living room. After school he'd gone to Angelo's house, wanting to make sure he wasn't dead or something. His grandparents' home was in the same neighborhood as his own, a canary yellow trailer home with baby blue window shutters and a busted up porch. Robbie always thought it was kinda cute, albeit bright compared to neighboring houses. The plants on the porch had all died a few months ago since Lo's grandma was forgetful about watering and covering them from the cold, so she'd recently invested in cacti. Angelo shrugged unhelpfully, crisscrossed beside the other boy on the dark brown carpet. "Didn't feel like going today." Robbie gave him a skeptical side look, but decided not to pry. 

Merlin, Angelo's shaggy Komondor, rolled onto his side happily as he was showered with attention. "Well it would've been nice not to endure that freak show by myself." He replied curtly, trying not to sound too irritated. Angelo just laughed lightly and stood up, ruffling Robbie's dyed black hair as he passed. "You'll survive." The victim of the hair tousle gave an indignant scoff and swatted him away. "Yeah, but I'd rather not." He retorted. After not being the center of attention for too long, Merlin sat up to lick Robbie's face. He pushed the dog off and watched the brunette as he walked out of the living room, "I got somethin' to show you." echoing in the hallway.

 When he came back Robbie had reluctantly allowed the dog to lay in his lap, having a soft spot for the mutt, and Angelo was holding an old shotgun of some sort. "No fuckin way." Robbie's blue eyes must've been as big as plates when he saw the firearm. "Where'd you get that?" He stood up absentmindedly and the dog slid onto the floor. "Figured out the combination to my Pa's safe." He smiled cheekily, handing his friend the gun so he could check it out. "It's not loaded, so don't worry." Robbie's hand gripped around the handle as he turned it over in his hand, examining it to try and figure out what kind of handgun it was. "Wasn't worryin'." He replied. He then looked up at the other and smiled. "You're gonna get in sooo much trouble." Angelo rolled his eyes and took the gun back abruptly. "Am not. He's not gonna find out." He pointedly gave Robbie a look that meant not to tell anyone. 

Angelo walked back down the hall to his grandparents' room and this time Robbie followed. "What's the point though? I have plenty guns." He inquired, leaning against the doorway as Angelo put the gun back in a safe that was in the bedroom closet, and closed it. "Cuz I've been dying to know what he keeps in here since like, 9." He said as he stood and shut the closet. "And anyways, it's cool to technically have a gun of my own." Robbie gave a short hum of agreement, crossing his arms. He did have a point.

 They looked at each other from across the room for a moment. He then walked closer so he was in front of him and Robbie watched as his eyes strayed to his hair once more. "You're gonna have to dye this mess again soon." He stated and touched the locks. "Not at your house I'm not. I'm pretty sure your sink is still stained." Robbie grinned crookedly, recalling how they'd dyed Robbie's hair for the first time and had a lack of clear judgement on how to do it. Angelo scoff-laughed at the memory. "Oh jeez. I'm sure Grammie is still mad at you, too." As a whole Angelo's grandparents were great, but Robbie had a feeling they didn't quite approve of him. And the hair dye fiasco wasn't a great impression on them, or their sink. 

Robbie thought back to the comment about having to dye it again soon. "Are my roots showing?" He asked, dreading the answer. "In all their red glory." Angelo confirmed teasingly, knowing how much he hated his natural hair color. Robbie groaned, bumping his head against the wooden door frame. "It's not that bad." The other boy tried to assure him, but seem more amused than anything. "It's only a little." Robbie gave him a look that said he wasn't convinced as the other's pale fingers continued to toy with the black strands. 

He seemed to always be touching him, and weird enough Robbie didn't mind like he would with anyone else. There was a quiet moment between them, a commonly occuring comfortable silence. The afternoon sun was shining through the closed curtain in the bedroom, all golden and warm though it didn't reach the boys in the doorway. Robbie could see specks of dust particles in the air, highlighted by the rays. The house always smelled like spruce wood and floral spray Angelo's grandma bought, and Robbie thought their bedroom looked like a seaside motel room with how clean but lived in everything was. "Grammie's making Alfredo tonight. You could stay." Angelo said in an soft voice that only appeared when his thoughts were elsewhere or he was being quiet on purpose. Robbie looked over to him and shook his head, though he already felt hungry at the offer. "Nah, it's alright..my mom probably wants me home." He wasn't sure what time it was, but he was sure it was late, and he found dinners with other peoples' families awkward. "Alright.." Robbie felt his reluctant hand pull away from his head. 

~

* The sun was setting. Sky a dark blue, rich red burning on the horizon just above the silhouette of tall pines, like a scar. I biked home, though the roads were a little icy and I had lingering worries about hydroplaning. The neighborhood was a trailer park surrounded by dark woods, the kind where everyone knew everybody and was mainly populated by old people or single mothers. Some houses still had Christmas decorations out from last month. Pretty baubles in retro reds glittered against frosted shingles or red-nosed reindeer with glassy eyes in dead lawns. I was only a few houses down from Angelo, so soon I skidded into the driveway and hopped off, letting the bike clatter to the pavement. 

Mom's 80s Chevy Lumina was parked in the open garage, which meant she'd probably gotten off work early today. Our mobile home had a back porch instead of a front one like Angelo's, painted a fading white and a bit bigger since it had one room more. I walked around to go in through the back, closing the screen door behind me and slipping off my sneakers on the mat, right beside Rosie's glittery purple rubber boots. I was lovingly enveloped with the house's warmth, with the smell of Mom cooking something good. "That better be you, Lily." I smiled when I heard her underlyingly sarcastic voice. "Yeah, it's me." I confirmed, stepping into the kitchen to put my cheek on her shoulder from behind. "Ach..you're cold." She commented though I could hear her own smile. She was cutting vegetables, the pot on the stove beside the cutting board probably housing soup. "You're like a stray. Only coming home for meals." I rolled my eyes at the comparison, stepping away to lean my back to the counter. "I was just at Angelo's house." I told her, playing with a loose thread in my sweater. 

The patter of sock clad feet on linoleum flooring foretold me of Rosie's appearance as she bounded into the kitchen. "Muddy bit me today." She informed matter-of-factly, standing beside me with big blue eyes fixed on me expectant of a response. "You were probably bothering him. Or holding him wrong." I told her with a shrug, before holding out my hand. "Where, lemme see." She gave me her hand with her little index pointed out. There was a pink nick on the digit, a shallow rat bite mark. "You wash it?" She nodded, brushing shaggy blonde hair out of her face. "Alright, well..a little bite never hurt anyone." I said as I let go of her hand. "You know, they can't talk. It's their way to say stop if they don't like somethin'." She considered that with an exaggerated frown, looking down at her finger. I smiled a little, endeared by her recently adopted theatrics. 

I lingered by the counter as Rosie pandered mama about something, before wandering out to the back porch to see if Isacc was out there. My suspicions were correct. I closed the screen door behind me, greeted by the sight of Isacc smoking, leaned against the wooden railing. The heavens were a watered down dark grey-blue now and the low sun darkly silhouetted the backyard an inky black. I advanced to stand beside him, wood creaking subtly underfoot. "If ma sees you doing that she'll get your hide." I told him teasingly, leaning my forearms on the rail. He scoffed lightly and I saw the smoke leave his nose like he was an angry cartoon bull. "I'm 19, mom can't do shit." I silently felt indifferent to his opinion on her authority over him, but didn't comment on it. 

My eyes ran over the grass of the backyard, the area that laid before the start of the woods. Patchy frosted over grass with an unused clothesline and an old sandbox, some of Rosie's toys strewn carelessly around the yard in a way that reminded me of the misfit toys from Rudolph. There was a sort of stillness during winter, especially at times like this. In the summer you'd hear crickets or see lighting bugs. During winter all I would hear was the occasional call of a lone owl, like a ghostly echo of longing. "You still failing algebra?" It was a stupidly bland thing to ask, I thought, as I looked over at him. It was so dark his features were faint, illuminated only by the glow of the cigarette's orange cherry. "Yeah. I think I'm retarted." I replied dryly, finding myself echoing what people in school said about me. Isacc snorted at that. "Probably." The way he said it made me crack a smile. "I met this chick today at the grocery store," he started, raising the cig to his lips before continuing. The words were accompanied with smoke at every syllable. "Middle aged lady and her daughter. She said the town found the guy who did the graffiti. Makin' him do community service. What a drag, huh?"

"Yeah."

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