A Gang of Our Own

Chapter Thirty

@WARNING: There will be a spoiler in this chapter. Right before it begins I'll write 'Spoiler Alert' and 'Spoiler Alert Over' when it's over.

"Matt!" I hollered on Sunday morning. I held each outfit up to myself, contemplating which one to chose. Gray maxi-skirt with a yellow top? Or floral black and white dress with a denim jacket?

"Matt!" I screamed again.

"What do you want?" He shouted as he burst through my door. He was tucking his white dress shirt into his jeans and his belt was looped through but not buckled.

"Which one?" I held each outfit up to me individually.

"This is probably a better question for Mom,"

"She's busy getting herself and DJ ready. And besides, I want a guy's opinion."

"The one on your right." He decided. The outfit on my right was the skirt and yellow shirt.

"Thanks!" I threw the dress into my closet and went to my mirror. "And do I look best with eyeliner and mascara? Just mascara? And what about lipgloss?"

"Just mascara, I guess."

"Thanks," I took my hair out of its wet bun from my shower and began blow-drying it. When I was done my hair was in curls.

Matt came up beside me and rested his elbow on my shoulder. "So," He said with a lopsided grin. "Who's the guy?"

"What guy?" I smiled as I ran my fingers through my hair.

"The one you're getting all pertified for."

"I'm not getting 'pertified' for a guy." I giggled as I began taking my shirt off of its hanger.

"Do I know this guy?"

"You're real mature, Matt." I teased. I threw the shirt on the bed beside me.

"It wouldn't happen to be my best buddy, would it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Can you please go? I have to get dressed."

"Aw, it is!" He said in an excited voice as I shooed him out of my room.

"I never said that." I argued. I shut the door in his face.

"But it's true!" His voice was muffled by the closed door. I chuckled and continued to get myself ready for church.

When we got to the church, Blair came up to us without her normal happy gleam in her eye. She briefly hugged Matt and touched my arm. "Something's bothering Triston."

"What's wrong?" I asked although I was pretty sure I already knew.

"I don't know. He won't tell me."

"Where is he?"

"He's still in the van. He said he wanted to be alone."

I nodded and headed out to the parking lot. I located his van and, as I approached, I could see him sitting in the driver's seat, resting his head against the headrest, looking up. He was so deep in thought, he didn't register I was there until I tapped on the window with my knuckle. His eyes lit up for a moment when he saw me and he stepped out of the van.

"Hey," I said softly.

"Hey." His voice was deep and words were hollow, masking his emotions.

"Why aren't you in church?"

"I don't feel like it." He said shortly and he avoided eye contact.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything," He sighed. I didn't say anything and he didn't need me to. "It's my dad. It's been weeks since we found out about his base being bombed. Weeks, Avery. They should know by now who is and isn't alive. Why haven't we heard anything?" His eyes turned gray when he was upset. They looked desperate and mine were watering because I knew what he was feeling. It's terrifying when you know a loved one is crippled, dying, or dead. I hoped to God, I'd never have to go through that again. "I need to know if he's alive."