Chapter 12

Stevie McGabe

I’d been lying in bed for nearly two hours, trying to switch off my overactive brain and go to sleep.

I’d been desperately trying to keep my eyes from wandering over to Darryl’s window ever since that night I’d gotten my own private peep show from him.

But on nights like this when I can clearly see he’s out, the thoughts of where he might be, and who he might be doing, claw themselves to the forefront of my brain and torment me.

A noise from outside makes my ears prick up, and I jump out of bed and rush to the window just in time to see Darryl falling onto the front lawn, where he flops onto his back and starts laughing. Without a second thought, I tiptoe downstairs and over to his prone figure.

“Darryl?” I whisper loudly, and he slowly moves his head my way, his green eyes glossy with whatever he’s been taking tonight.

The split knuckles on his hand and the drops of blood on his t-shirt tell me he’s been in some kind of trouble. His eyes drop a little lower, and suddenly I am very aware of the fact that I am wearing practically nothing, my nipples pebbling under the thin cotton vest I was wearing.

“Darryl…are you okay?”

“Why the fuck do you care, Stevie?” His eyelid shutters down, hiding his verdant eyes, and he rolls his head away again. “You didn’t care four years ago, why the fuck do you care now?” The bitterness in his voice brings goosebumps to my skin.

“What?” I frown in confusion, shaking my head. He must be super high. I place my hand on his bicep. “Come on, Darryl. Let’s go inside, and you can sleep this off.”

“Nah…I’m good,” he replies, pulling his arm roughly out of my grasp.

“Come on, Darryl. You can’t keep doing this to your parents…your mom is already struggling with her chemo; she doesn’t need to deal with you acting like it’s only hard for you too.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret it. Darryl’s head whips back to me so fast I’m surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash, and the look he gives me makes my blood run cold.

“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Say.” His jaw ticks, and I swear I can hear his teeth grind together. “Chemo? What fucking chemo?”

“Uhm…” I swallow dryly, rocking back onto my heels as I try to form a sentence under the intense glare of my former friend. I hadn’t realized they still hadn’t told Darryl and Vinnie what was going on with Abi. “I thought…I wouldn’t have…”

Darryl jumps to his feet, making me flinch, and sets off at a pace to his house, swinging the door open with such force it leaves a hole in the wall. Darryl yells into the dark house. “Mom! Dad! What the fuck!?”

I grab a handful of his shirt. “Darryl, please…don’t do this now.”

“Darryl?” Jake appears at the top of the stairs looking equal parts half-asleep and confused, and worried. “What the fuck is going on?”

“That’s exactly what the fuck I wanna know!” Darryl continues to rage. Abi steps up next to Jake, the dark circles under her eyes apparent even in the dim light from their open bedroom door.

“Why the fuck am I finding out you have fucking cancer and are already going through chemo from the fucking neighbor?!”

Okay, ouch! I know we aren’t really friends, but I thought I meant more to him than just being relegated to the neighbor. Abi’s breath hitches, and tears roll slowly down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Darryl…” she starts, but he snaps.

“Don’t. Fucking. Talk,” he snarls, spinning on heel and barging past me, sending me into the wall.

I look up the staircase at Jake who is holding a sobbing Abi in his arms. “I’m so sorry…it slipped out before I realized…I didn’t know he still didn’t know,” I apologize with a trembling chin.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Vinnie’s quiet voice cuts through the awkward silence.

***

Seventy-two hours.

That’s how long Darryl went MIA.

The hospital finally got in touch when a member of the public found him in a public bathroom, passed out. Of course, this sent the rumor mill crazy at school.

There were stories about him being busted for gay solicitation in a public bathroom, being an undercover cop who was involved with breaking open a drug deal and being left beaten half to death by the cartel and – I think the worst one - being found dead from a suicide attempt.

My mom told me that he wouldn’t be back at school for the rest of the week and charged me with getting his assignments for him. I mean, it was the very least I could do after I blew his whole life to pieces.

Jake had come over to talk things through with my mom this morning, and he’d forgiven me with a huge bear hug.

“It was our fault entirely, Smudge. We should have been more honest with him from the start, but we just never know how he’ll take things anymore.”

Jake had always called me Smudge, because he joked that if he squinted his eyes slightly, so I was slightly out of focus—or smudgy—I looked exactly like my mom, whom he had always called Smidge.

“I’m still really sorry.” I offer Jake the armful of homework and class notes I’d gotten for Darryl, and Jake shakes his head with a smile.

“I think you should take them over. I think he could use a good friend right now.”

I swallow down my fear and give Jake a bright smile before setting off next door. I hesitate when I reach the top of the stairs and hear the distinct sound of heavy metal snarls from behind Darryl’s bedroom door.

I knock softly. “What?” he growls, sounding tired. I push the door open and find him lying in bed, his arms behind his head, making his biceps flex.

My eyes make their way down his exposed torso, and I unconsciously lick my lips as I scan the v-cut muscles disappearing under his sheets.

“Have you finished checking me out yet? Or should I move the sheet out of the way too? Give you a better view.” He asks, humor laced in his tone.

I snap out of my admiration, feeling my face burn as he smirks at me. “I, uhm, I brought you your homework for the week.”

“Gee, thanks,” his face grows stony again. “First you decide to ruin my fucking life with the news that my mom is dying, then you bring me fucking homework to do when I’m supposed to be resting.”

I roll my eyes, striding over to his desk and slamming the papers down. “Abi is not dying. Have you even talked to her at all?!” By the look on his face, I get the impression he’s been as much of an asshole with his folks as he’s being with me.

“The doctors caught it super early, and she’s been responding really well to the treatments. She’s been given really high odds of getting over this.”

He purses his lips, drawing my attention to his lip ring. Who knew I was such a fan of facial piercings? “Whatever.”

I sigh. Darryl had always pushed everyone away when he was upset, even as little kids, but I could always tell when he actually wanted to be alone, and when he was just struggling to deal with his emotions.

Now was one of those times.

I turn his stereo off and grab his TV remote, flicking to the main menu. “What the fuck are you doing, Stevie?!” He makes a half-assed attempt to grab it back, but I smile sweetly at him as I scroll through to Disney+ and down to The Nightmare Before Christmas.

I give him a side glance as the opening credits start, and feel my chest swell a little as I take note of the hint of a smile on his face.

Settling back on his desk chair, I prop my feet up on the edge of his mattress, and we watch the movie in somewhat amiable silence.

Probably the first time in four years we’ve managed to be alone in the same room together for more than ten minutes without one of us snapping or upsetting the other.