Someday

Year 3, Day 243

"You can ask me, you know?" Bobby finally broke the tense silence between us.

I've never been good at secrets. There was a movie we, Bobby, my parents and I, all watched about a girl who gets paid to keep other people's secrets. I'm not that girl; I'll be the one lining up, spilling my guts out to her.

"Huh?" I tried my best not to look like the guilty chicken that I am. If he doesn't bring up what happened, I won't. See, Mom? I'm learning.

"About the other day," he said as he exhaled.

He hated this. Unlike me, Bobby was good at keeping things. That secret keeper will be out of a job with him around.

"I saw you," I finally answered.

"I know."

"What was it?" I blurted out after a few minutes of silence passed.

"A guitar."

"What?" He doesn't have one.

"Austin, my brother, got me a new one. Papa broke mine last year, remember?"

"Yeah, I think the whole block remembers, Bobby. He's a jerk."

Rude, I know. My dad would be disappointed if he heard that, but even he would agree that Bobby's dad was a... what I just said. Booby looked at me, neither agreeing nor correcting. He was just looking. After a while, he turned his attention back to their house, dark and cold. There was no one there.

"He broke this one too."

"What? Why? That wasn't his to break. Well, so was the last one, but you get what I mean, right? Did you talk to your brother yet?"

"Will."

"Probably not, huh? Would you like me to call him? I can. Just give me a few minutes. I'll check if Mom's using the phone. You can come in with me if you want."

"Will."

"Yeah?" I finally answered, trying to catch my breath from talking too much, too fast. I need to work on that.

"Don't worry about it. It's just a guitar."

"I'm not. I'm worried about you."

Bobby looked at me and smiled, a real Bobby-certified smile. He hasn't done that in a few days. They were always forced.

"Don't," he said, looking back at their house.

"Can't help it. We're friends."

"I meant, don't do it if you're worried about me. It will make things worse."

"How?"

I don't get it. Austin never visited, but he always called and gave Bobby gifts. I'm sure he'd be happy to help. How could he possibly make things worse?

"My brother, Austin, he's..." Bobby paused. He was trying to find the right words, something he always did when he was avoiding what he couldn't, no shouldn't say.

"He's?" I urged him to say it. What, Bobby? A murderer? A sociopath?

"Different"

"Different?" What? Well, of course, he is. We all are.

I waited for him to say more, but all he said after was, "He's just different."

We spent the rest of the afternoon and half the night talking about other things, school, bands, art. Well, I talked about art. He listened.

Something was still bothering me though, and I knew I had to say it or I'm not gonna get any sleep again tonight like the past two nights.

I sat up and leaned on the fence, next to him.

Just tell him.

Ugh!

Muggle, do it.

Will!

Go!

"What?" Bobby asked, looking at me with his brows furrowed.

There's your cue.

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"The other day."

"You didn't do anything, Will."

"Exactly."