Drowned Silence

Part 2

Dylan tossed his car keys on the counter with a little more force than necessary. He watched the back of his dad's head that poked over the top of the couch. A basketball game lit up the 52-inch TV in bright reds and yellows, but no sound came out of the surround sound speakers. His dad's head didn't so much as twitch at the sound of Dylan's keys on the counter.

"I'm home," mumbled Dylan. He'd run out of things to say to his dad to break the silence long ago. "Sorry I'm late."

Dylan's dad brought a cupped hand to his mouth. The hum of the refrigerator cut out with a snap, and Dylan could hear the subtle working of his dad's jaw as he chomped his handful of popcorn. Dylan swallowed, noting with a shudder the sound of the brief tightening of his throat muscles. He shifted his backpack back up the shoulder on which it hung limply and walked up the stairs. The wood of the stairs groaned at the touch of his feet. Step. Step. Step. He counted seventeen, speaking the numbers softly aloud.

At the top of the stairs, he found his parents' bedroom door ajar, a slice of light breaking through the darkness and growing wider and wider the farther it traveled on the hallway floor. He averted his eyes as he passed, certain that if he looked in, he'd find his mom in her bathrobe in the chair next to her bedside table. He could tell without looking that the book in her hand would be yellowed and tattered, some yard sale find or one of those decaying paperbacks she snapped up at the library fundraiser. As if to prove his point, Dylan heard the chafing of gritty paper turning. Crackle. Crinkle.

He thought suddenly of Kelsey licking a finger and turning the page.

He shook his head and retreated to his room, slamming the door behind him. He jammed the power button on his remote, picked up his Xbox controller and turned the system on, tossing the blinking white controller onto his bed. He dropped the backpack next to the controller, unzipping the outer pocket to grab his phone. Kicking aside a pile of dirty clothes and what might have been a wet washcloth, Dylan found his eye-popping red Beats and jammed the cord into his iPhone socket. He flicked his fingers and brought his house to life.

The music flowed through his headphones, traveling across his eardrums, down his shoulders and through his blood stream, loosening some of the tension. He plopped onto the bed, oozing into the cushion of the crumpled comforter. Picking up his controller, he loaded the game screen.

***

"Matthew?" The witch in the sparkly purple hat must have forgotten her psychic powers at home along with her warts and broomstick. "Zachary?"

Dylan grinned beneath his Frankenstein mask, even though he knew Bethany couldn't see it. He sucked his breath deeply in and out, knowing it'd make the latex mask crumple inward and then expand.

Bethany laughed. Dylan liked the way her smile showed off the sparkles she'd sprinkled all over her cheeks in the dim light.

Bethany shifted her plastic cup to one hand and reached up to slide her hand under the Frankenstein mask. She pouted her lips and stood on her toes, poised for a kiss. "If you're not going to tell me, how will I know who I'm about to—"

"DYLAN!" Ryan ran by, drumming his fists against Dylan's back in a rapid beat before rushing out the open sliding glass door. "WHOO!" Dylan could hear him scream outside, even despite the volume of the music blasting.

Bethany chuckled, landing back on her heels and clutching the cup with both hands against her chest. The corner of her lips twitched. "That was my next guess," she lied. She looked over Dylan's shoulder, suddenly interested. "Oh, is that— Nice seeing you!" Dylan watched her go, sliding in next to a sexy Red Riding Hood and a Wonder Woman with glowstick bracelets on the makeshift dance floor Randi's parents had set up in the living room for the party. Dylan watched them shake their hips back and forth for a short while, plastic cups raised like Olympic torches, until he heard screaming coming from behind him outdoors.