All American Boys

13. The Lion and the Lamb

All American Boys

Chapter 13: The Lion and the Lamb

Cyril picked me up for the party at one of the football player's houses. His parents were away for the week, and there was no school on Monday. A perfect excuse for a party.

It was funny, I thought. Most of those teens were with their parents sitting in church that morning, Cyril included, but then not even twenty-four hours later they were drinking and making out in closets. I don't even go to church and even I can see how stark of a contrast that is. I couldn't be bothered choosing what to wear, and ended up wearing the same shirt and pants as the day before, since it just happened that it was hanging outside the cabinet. I didn't really bother with my appearance.

Especially not after what happened yesterday. Isaac drove me home in silence. He tried his best to hide it, but I noticed his eyes tearing up as he drove.

I tossed and turned in bed that night but I couldn't stop thinking about those sad, green eyes of his. I couldn't stop thinking about how I broke his heart.

His last words to me that evening, once we reached Beersheba Street still stayed with me.

"It's Cyril Crawford isn't it?" Isaac had said, rather nonchalantly as he unlocked the doors. "It always is."

I couldn't answer him as I stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind me. I felt him watching me as I walked up the pavement and unlocked my door. Only when I opened my door did I hear him leave, the car driving off.

Cyril picked me up that evening in his red Trans-Am. He told me that Emily was going to be there at the party, having invited her as well. Well technically it wasn't his party, but he was the team captain. And I was pretty sure to the rest of the team, more girls to drunkenly hit on wasn't that bad either.

"You look amazing today babe," he said as I stepped into his car.

"Thanks," I mumbled as I settled into my seat somewhat uncomfortably.

He was wearing a light pink shirt, the buttons undone halfway, exposing his chest. He had a small silver crucifix hanging from his necklace, the cross resting directly on his breast.

I didn't say anything as I buckled up.

"Is everything alright?" Cyril asked as he drove off.

"Yeah," I replied, biting my lip. "It's nothing. I just had a rough night that's all."

"Oh shucks," he said. "You know if you don't feel good and don't wanna come to the party I can just turn around."

"No it's okay," I told him. "I'd love to go to the party."

And it was true. At the very least at the party I'd be distracted and not end up spending my time thinking about my decision over and over. At least I wouldn't think about the poor boy's heart I just broke. As Cyril drove towards the wealthier part of town, white picket fences of Beersheba Street gave way to wrought iron with climbing ivy. The houses got larger and the yards more spacious.

We finally pulled up and parked along the street where a lot of other cars were parked. It seemed like there were quite a number of people already there.

The house was quite large, and the two of us walked through the paved entrance where some kids were hanging out, red cups in their hands. Maybe I might get some, I thought to myself. I should probably drink until I forget. The sun was setting, and the sky had begun to get dark.

Once we walked through the door I was greeted to the sound of loud music blasting from the stereo. They seemed to have invited a whole bunch of people, but it was mostly the football team and the other popular kids. It was certainly the first time I was ever invited to one. Everyone seemed to say to hi to Cyril when we arrived, and some by proxy, I suppose, said hi to me too. Cyril talked a bit with some people, while I just stood there awkwardly with my phone. Someone told me they liked my shirt, so that was nice I guess.