{Cary}
When the sky outside his window turned pale Cary got up, showered and left the house. He caught the bus to the school, then walked the rest of the way to downtown Strathcona. The morning light poured up the street, making the old brick buildings glow with warmth. There were family run cigar stores with apartments on top, next to Starbucks, next to the kind of artsy and expensive home furnishings stores his mother liked to shop at. Cary walked with his head up, his hands in his pockets, feeling the last shadows of his nightmare vanishing in the bright light of morning.
There was a big old church building on the corner, with stone steps spread out in front. A few kids were clustered there already. A blonde boy was perched on the stair rail, one leg swinging free. An older Indigenous guy Cary recognized, built like a brick wall with a tattoo on his neck was sitting back on the steps, sunning himself with his eyes shut.
Mike cracked his eyes a slit when Cary pulled up a seat on the bottom step. "Spare me a dart?" He rumbled.
Cary fished his crumpled cigarette pack from his jacket and silently offered it to him. "Thanks." Mike lit up with a tarnished lighter, then held the pack and the lighter out to Cary.
Cary took them and lit his own smoke. He returned the lighter to Mike without looking at him. They saw each other every day at the school doors, where the kids who didn't fit and didn't give a shit smoked in the breaks. But Cary had figured out a long time ago it was simpler if he didn't make friends.
He was startled when the blonde boy addressed him. His voice was light as his hair and hands. "Do you ever watch people go by and think – that person has a whole life I don't know anything about. They love things and hate things and have had things happen to them same as me."
Cary blinked, looking at the few pedestrians passing on the sidewalk. "No."
"I do."
Cary frowned at the boy. There was something different about him and his moon-round face.
"Don't mind him," Mike said. "He's always saying crazy shit like that."
The boy smiled beatifically, looking in the light of morning like one of the saints in the stained glass behind them. "You think it too, Michael." he said.
Mike rolled his eyes. "Yeah like every day I see Cary here I'm just dying to know what's in his head."
Cary huffed a laugh, surprised to find one so close to his surface.
"I'm like what's a rich kid like that doing on the street ass-crack of dawn?"
That wiped the laugh off his face and Cary slid him a sideways look, the skin on the back of his neck prickling. This kid had noticed him; he hated being noticed.
"And then I'm like, mind your business Mike Joseph, you're here too." Mike smiled, smoke dribbling from his nose. His hands were open and loose between his knees, not looking for a fight. "So I do that. Always good to listen to my own best advice."
Cary got to his feet, rolling his tight shoulders and feeling Mike's eyes on him. There was no reason to start something here, even if the blood was thrumming in his ears like an invitation.
"You cool bro?" Mike said.
Cary nodded shortly. "Thanks for the light," he said.
The blonde boy lifted one long hand, smiling. "Bye Care. See you."
///
The freckled kid from drafting class found him at his locker in the break, smiling at him with a little worried wrinkle in his forehead. "Hey, Cary." It took Cary a second to recall his name, Jon. "Did you check if tonight works? To work on our project?"
He was about to shut Jon down when he remembered the way his father had looked at him in the study last night saying When I was your age I could have memorized that in the time it took you to read it. He glared into the locker. "Sure." He had to get this project out of the way and finish that fucking book report.
"Okay!" Jon's voice squeaked a little at the end, and Cary turned his frown on him. What was his problem? Jon was holding his smile on his face like it was a shield, his arms crossed tight over his body and his shoulders drawn up to his ears. Cary recognized that look in an instant: Jon expected him to punch him in the face.
Cary looked aside, wishing he had any clue how to put a person at ease. He'd learned a lot of things from his father with his university education, but that was not one of them. "So what's your mom making for snack?" he asked.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jon relax a little. "I don't know – whatever's in the cupboard."
Cary shrugged. "Whatever sounds good."
*How do you think it's gonna go when Cary visits Jon's house?
I paid no attention to chapter length when I wrote this novel--do you like the super short chapter? What's your favourite chapter length on Wattpad?*
880 words.