Disaster Class

06. even the best and brightest of stars

Mack's winter boots crunch across the backyard. "Smooth," he says when he gets to my side.

"Just help me up, asshole." I reach a hand out, and he clasps it, pulling me up to my feet.

"Look at that. You left an assprint," he chuckles, pointing to the ground. We admire my handiwork for a few seconds, then his foot kicks out to erase the mark on the snow. "So your dad won't have any evidence that you snuck out."

"Smart," I say, but then the kitchen light flickers on, and I immediately feel stupid.

Dad is staring directly at us through the window. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been watching us this whole time. He's wearing a robe over his pajamas and an unimpressed expression on his face. Crossing his arms, he heads to the backdoor.

"Do we run?" Mack asks, a little flustered. "Are we booking it? Nico, what --"

"Shh!"

The backdoor opens. Dad pokes his head out. His bearded face is all scrunched up in irritation. Huffing, he points his finger at me. "Back before sunrise," he says, and drops the strict Dad façade. "And good evening to you, too, Malik."

Mack mumbles a sheepish, "Good evening, Mr. G," throwing in awkward finger guns as if they would help.

Dad winks and returns the gesture. Then he slams the door shut.

I chuckle in relief. "Let's go!" I say, slapping Mack on the shoulder.

We rush to the street. It's so peaceful and quiet this time of night, our laughter easily cuts through the neighborhood.

"I thought we were toast," Mack laughs, mounting his bike.

"If Mom caught us, we would have been," I say, stepping up to the back pegs while Mack kicks up the stand. Clasping his broad shoulders, I straighten my back and command, "Onward, space nerd!"

Mack tears through the streets, pedaling like crazy. The winter wind is harsh, but I still feel warm in his company. I think this is the first time I've laughed so freely in days.

At 11:55, we reach the old abandoned greenhouse up by Maple Lane. It's near the outskirts of the city, away from all the artificial lights, making it the perfect spot for stargazing. Mack found this place when we were kids. It's become a hideout of some sort.

Mack slows down as we approach. I jump off the pegs, almost bolting to the greenhouse.

"Wait up!" he calls, kicking the bike stand.

"Hurry up. I'm getting snow on my hair."

Mack catches up and ruffles my hair, says he's patting the snow off, but I know he's just messing it up. I push him off playfully, he shoves back. It's all chuckles and fun until he slips and nearly falls on his ass.

"You know you should be nice to me. I got you a surprise."

I raise my brow in question.

He cocks his head towards the greenhouse door. "C'mon." He yanks me by the arm. When we enter the greenhouse, I see nothing and wonder if he's just messing with me again. But then I see it: a blanket on the floor and an array of junk food, ranging from Cheetos to Lay's, from Ruffles to Doritos. Just some good old, zero nutritional value crap.

My mouth falls slack. "What's all this?"

"You've been feeling down the past few days. I thought I'd cheer you up," he says then shrugs like it's nothing.

It's not nothing.

"This is the best thing anyone's ever done for me. I could almost cry."

"Hey!" Mack feigns offense. "I did not take years of theater training for you to become the drama queen between the two of us."