Page 15 of Eighteen (18)

But also an opportunity and this guy, Sunday, who does not even know me, but who knew just what to do to make it better.

Just call me an optimist. Always looking for that silver lining.

Chapter Seven

The next morning I’m so disoriented, it takes me whole minutes to come to terms with the realization that I’m not in my own bed, that Rocky girl is talking to me, and Sunday is cooking something that smells delicious.

“What?” I say, looking up at Rocky.

“Your bruise,” she says, pointing to my face.

I touch it and wince. “What about it?”

“Do you want me to cover it?” She holds up a clear bag of makeup. “It’s not too bad.”

“Done this before, huh?”

She smiles with a shrug.

“Sure.”

I use the bathroom, smile back at Sunday when he smiles at me, and then plop down at the small kitchen table and look longingly at the food in front of me as Rocky makes me pretty.

Sunday watches. I can’t figure out if I like that he’s watching or if I don’t.

“Are you going to school today?” he asks.

I check my face with a compact mirror and then hand it back to Rocky with a thank you. “I think I have to.”

“Graduation and shit, right?” He has a great smile, I realize. Friendly. His hair is very dark, but he’s not Hispanic. Ditto for Rocky. They both have very dark eyes and when I look directly into Sunday’s, he’s staring at me.

“Hey, are you two related?”

“Twins,” they say together.

“Obviously not identical,” Sunday says. “I’m so much better-looking.”

Rocky halfheartedly punches him and then gets up to grab some more bacon from the counter before snatching her backpack from the coffee table and walking to the door. “I’ll see you there, Danny. Gotta meet Tim.”

“Yeah, bye,” Sunday absently says. His eyes never leave mine. “You need a ride to school then? I live back there,” he says, thumbing behind his shoulder to indicate behind us.

“Oh,” I say. “I was wondering where you got this shirt from.”

“Phil’s my cousin,” he says. “Rocky and I have lived in the apartment above the garage since last summer when we turned eighteen.”

I wince at the word.

He stays silent for a long second. “I get it, you know.”

“Get what?” I ask through a mouthful of bacon.

“The bad day.”

“Oh, that.” I chew and swallow. “Yeah, well, it’s behind me now, so bygones and all that good shit.”

“You’re gonna go far with that attitude, Daydreams.”

“Daydreams?” I ask.