Sleepover
Written by: Zacharey
It was the biggest fight he and Scott ever got in. His sleeping bag was still by the TV in Scott’s room and so was his video game—He probably wasn’t gonna get to see that again! It was a stupid fight, so quick, a flash of fury, warm blood through tight veins, and scrawny fists aimed for friends’ heads. Summer wind and the buzz from the electrical towers fed into their feud, accompanying the music of the clenched-jaw barbs.
He was supposed to stay the night, play tag, then video games, and drink a ton of Mountain Dew. He went to Blockbuster with Scott and Scott’s mom. She let them rent Halloween. Ben was probably going to come over too, if his mom let him. Jonathan was going to get away from his mom and dad and Tracy for the night. She always cried and she was only two and only seemed to annoy him.
He went through the side door of the garage; Dad always left it unlocked so he could step out and smoke.
Jonathan went in and slid up against the front of his dad’s red pick-up. He went into the house and made sure to step in quietly. Are Mom and Dad gonna be mad? he wondered.
The sink light was on, glowing from the kitchen. Nothing else was, though. On the center island in the kitchen were some bottles and glasses. Jonathan opened the fridge. He couldn’t find anything to eat.
He went upstairs—there was little light up there. He could faintly see some light coming from his parents’ room. He heard them talking in there. He didn’t want to go up to them yet.
He turned on his bedroom light. His clothes were folded, laid on part of his bed by his mom for him to put away when he came home. His reflection in the mirror stood before him. He looked at himself. He was so mad at Scott. He looked at his clothes; they didn’t look bad. He didn’t mess up his shirt or anything.
He sat on the edge of his bed to think. It was Scott’s fault! He sure wasn’t going to sit next to him at lunch on Monday—and he better give him his stuff back. Jonathan scratched and adjusted himself. He sighed. He palmed the top of his private parts and squeezed a little. But then he heard a noise from the hallway. He stopped.
Jonathan stepped out into the hall. His sister’s door beside him was closed and quiet. The sound was coming from mom and dad’s room.
He walked down the hallway, dodging the loud spots in the floor. He put his ear to the door. The noises were louder and sounded like yelling—weird yelling. Jonathan’s fingertips licked the doorknob, but then retreated, afraid.
His heart pounded. His parents wouldn’t be mad. They just have their door closed because they don’t know that he’s home. He grabbed the doorknob again and turned it, shoulder pressed to the door as it opened.
When he fully stood in the room, he looked at the bed. They were naked and moaning on the bed. Over her shoulder, his mom saw him. His dad and their neighbor, Mr. Bolton, were all over her body. All warm blood through tight veins between children in the room.
