A Sky Full of Blue

Chapter 10: Bright Yellow is the Color of the Flyer

"You'll never know what you can do until you stop being nervous and allow yourself to try." ~Pharrell Williams

It's late when we get home and my thoughts are clouding everything. Toby doesn't seem right, and his eyes are tight and hot. He's lost his marigold smile for a little bit, but I don't understand why he has this emotion. He's unhappy.

All because Theo asked me to Homecoming. I got asked to a dance by a boy. He doesn't seem that bad, does he?

Why is Toby like this? I thought that he wanted me to be happy. Is he mad because I said yes without hesitation? Because I thought that if maybe I went to this dance I could feel something that resembled happiness?

I hear Toby's grunts in the backyard as he kicks the soccer ball around. He growls and then shoots the ball in, slipping on the grass. He keeps his footing, but his cleats show the damage. These last few days of rain have not been kind to the earth.

I peer out through the window again, filling my sight with the way Toby's body is positioned, tight and rigid. His eyes are only focused on his target, but I'm sure that he knows I've been watching him.

I peel my eyes away and clomp down the steps. I skip down them, and basically fly to the door. I slip on a pair of Toby's small, worn sneakers and head out back.

It's sprinkling softly and the clouds are gray and lingering. I take a moment to memorize that gray, keep it locked tight into my memory. Toby doesn't notice that I've stepped outside. He's got his rhythm, his pace, and he doesn't want to stop it for anything. Not even his little sister.

Instead of interrupting, I go to the shed and grab a ball of my own. It's pretty deflated and caked in mud from previous use, but I can manage for now. This is to talk to Toby, not to play a game. I dribble the ball over to him, making sure that I don't collide with his body. The back of my shirt is drenched in rainwater and mud.

I sigh. I'm doing this for Toby. Not for my own cleanliness.

"I know this bothers you." Toby's voice is low and thick. It sounds like his upset voice.

"Did me saying yes make you angry?" His knuckles whiten. His jaw flexes, and I can see the individual muscles in his cheek tick. His hair is damp and lays limply to the side. The gel has run out of it; he also needs a haircut.

He runs a hand over his face.

"I specifically asked him not to ask you. I don't want you getting hurt." I furrow my brows. Me getting hurt? Over what?

"What if I said that it'd be a step toward what I need to find? What if this could bring me to the closure that I need? I don't want to be stuck wondering when I can go out and do it." He turns to me, eyes blazing.

"For what? For a boy?" He scoffs, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"So a boy will solve all of your problems, is that it? Will you not need me after you're safely tucked in the arms of another guy?" His nostrils flare two times their normal size. He turns back to the goal, eyes focused on his ball.

I roll mine back and forth, keeping my mind occupied as I try to figure this out. He doesn't want me to go to this dance because he thinks that Theo will whisk me away into my own dreamland? I snort.