{Jon}

Jon stayed buried in his blankets until the sun beating against his pulled curtains made his bedroom hot and stuffy. There weren't many days left when he'd be able to sleep in like this. He heard someone making food in the kitchen and rolled out of bed, stretching gingerly. His ribcage still ached, and he was afraid a sudden movement would somehow snap the fragile seam of new bone cells that held the edges together under his skin.

He rummaged in the bottom of his closet for his school bag, where he kept a certain pencil case zipped securely shut. The case felt flat and empty under his fingers as he zipped it open to double check. He'd taken the last of his pills at Kurtis' place the day before. He ran a finger along the seam of the case, licking the leftover powder off it like sugar, and thought about taking his bike up the ten blocks to his buddy's place and getting a couple more for the week. The supply of cash he'd had since he pawned Cary's box of stuff had dwindled, and he thought he might want the last $50 to go to a concert with Kurtis. Or something.

He didn't need the pills anymore anyway—it was probably a good time to quit. Jon zipped the pencil case shut and dropped it back in his bag. He straightened, looking blankly around his room. The last days of summer seemed pretty lame and ordinary without a trip on painkillers to look forward to.

Cary was at the table, shovelling steaming noodles into his mouth. He'd gotten a haircut—there was a white strip of skin at his hairline glowing against his sunburned neck. A bubble of anger soured Jon's mood at the reminder: Cary had been out working all summer, making loads of cash while Jon had been stuck inside hurting too badly to even play video games.

"Why aren't you at work?" Jon asked, getting a bowl down from the cupboard.

Cary slurped up the last noodle, darting a sideways look at him. "Had a meeting with the lawyer. And your dad."

Jon dumped noodles and broth into his bowl and pulled up a chair across from him. Cary's wrist was wrapped in gauze, and his knuckles were clotted black and red. Jon made a face. "Who'd you punch—the lawyer or my dad?"

Cary set his spoon in his bowl, sliding his hands under the table. "No one. Took out a bus shelter."

Jon laughed sharply. "Are you serious? Was my dad there?"

Cary was silent, his flaming face answer enough.

"Geez, he lets you get away with murder," Jon said. "If I pulled the shit you do, I'd be grounded for a month."

Cary got to his feet, dumping his dishes in the sink with a clatter. "Guess I'm grounded today. And paying the fine."

Jon made a scoffing noise, digging into his noodles. "You're lucky he skipped the lecture about how he expects better of you and he raised you to be different, blah, blah, blah." He mimed trying to scoop his eyeball out of its socket with a spoon.

Cary folded his arms over his chest, his face still and flat. He was silent a second, considering Jon. "You always this cranky in the morning?" he asked dryly.

"It's not morning, genius," Jon snapped.

Cary's eyebrows lowered, and the weight of his look made Jon shift uncomfortably in his chair. "You're the one who's cranky," Jon said. "Fucking get your own kitchen to brood in."

Cary ducked his head and left, but the feeling of ants crawling over Jon's skin didn't leave. Jon slurped his noodles down, wondering why the hell Cary was such a grouch.

{Cary}

Cary was in his room lacing up his running shoes and buzzing with low-grade anxiety when the doorbell rang. He got up to answer it, and found himself looking down at Kadee Yoshenko twisting the end of her braid in her fingers. She took a short breath like she was nervous and flashed him a smile. "Hey—is Jon here?"

"Yuh." Cary turned to get him, but she caught his unbandaged wrist. Her fingers were cool against his skin, their pressure light but insistent.

"Can I—can we hang out here?" She let him go, putting her hands behind her back and looking sideways up at him through her lashes. "I mean...do you want to hang out with us?"

He ducked his head, looking up the hall to the kitchen. He was pretty sure the last thing he wanted to do this afternoon was be in the same room as Jon.

"I would kinda...feel safer with you there," Kadee said in a small voice.

He touched his wrist absently where her fingers had been, lifting his shoulders. It's not like her fear was unfounded—Jon was in a really shitty mood. "Sure. I'll be around."

In the corner of his eye, he saw the glow of her smile. "Okay, I'm glad."

Cary held the door open for her, rubbing his knuckles over the line of his jaw as she went up the hall. What the hell were the three of them going to do together all afternoon? He grabbed his drawing book and pencils from his room on the way by.

The sound of Jon's music thumped from the basement, thundering into their ears as soon as Kadee pulled the door open. Cary lagged behind her down the stairs, and dropped in an easy chair close to the wall as she slung her bag on the coffee table in front of Jon's knees. She flashed Jon a smile that made her eyes crinkly. "Hey, so I found my brother's vintage game collection, and I totally think we should try them out."

Jon's smile of welcome was interrupted by a flicker of annoyance, and his eyes went to Cary for a second. "I thought we were going to your place."

Kadee shrugged a bare shoulder, slicing a little of her smile off for Cary, trying to stay invisible in his chair. "I'm tired of my house. Plus—I brought snacks." She pulled two crinkly bags of chips out of her apparently bottomless tote. "Ripple sour cream and onion. Your favourite."

Jon riffled through the game cartridges, looking interested in spite of himself. "Okay, cool. It'll be nice to be away from the youth group anyways." He slid her a look, a little colour in his cheeks. "Are you and Kurtis...still friends?"

In the beat of quiet, Cary watched to see how she would answer. Kadee waved her hand dismissively. "No. I don't think so. He was all...dramatic, and it's just over. Very—over."

Jon ducked his head, his face pink. "I'm sorry, Kadee. I wish things had worked out for us to keep hanging out together."

Cary saw her guard go up behind the flash of her careless smile. "Well, we can still hang out, right? Maybe I liked you better all along."

Jon laughed a little uncomfortably. "Yeah, right." He picked up one of the games from the pile and took it to the console, flipping open the plastic lid.

Kadee dropped onto the couch, fishing the controller out from the cushions and laughing a little. "Oh my god, this is so old school. I feel like I'm eight again."

Cary wedged himself in the corner of the chair, one leg over the arm, and opened his drawing book. He had never understood the appeal of video games—and watching someone else play could not be more boring. Jon gave him a look, but didn't comment. Kadee gave him a small smile before focusing her attention on the game on the screen.

They played until Jon got up for a bathroom break, and Kadee wandered over, resting her round, bare arms on the back of his chair. "What are you working on?" She smelled different than anyone Cary knew, soft and sweet like the milk tea that Phillipa made in the afternoon. It was disconcerting. He let her look at the page he was drawing—not that it would make much sense to her. A trail wound pale through a jumble of rocks and scrub brush, two figures leaning against the steep incline. She leaned closer, a ribbon of hair slipping over her shoulder.

"Is that like...a page from a graphic novel?"

He was surprised she recognized it. "Yuh."

"Do you have more? Are you writing something?"

He spread his hand over the drawing and shrugged, trying to avoid her attention. He had a whole sketchbook full of the story of Split-lip and the dead boy.

"My brother read a ton of those. I'd love to see more—your drawing looks really good."

He met her warm interest with a flat, guarded look. He hadn't shown the drawings to anyone—even his counsellor. "It's a pretty fucked-up story. I think you wouldn't like it."

Her eyes crinkled at him in what was not quite a smile. "Maybe you shouldn't be so quick to judge."

Jon came out of the washroom and his eyebrows lowered. He dropped onto the couch with his back to Cary like he wasn't there. "You want to try something else?"

Kadee sauntered over to join him. "Sure. I don't care." She leaned her head back to look at Cary. "You want to play?"

"Cary doesn't play," Jon said without looking away from the screen. "He didn't exactly have a normal childhood. So he doesn't know how."

Kadee raised an eyebrow, looking at the side of Jon's set face. "That's kind of a rude way of putting it."

Jon turned his head a fraction toward Cary, raising his voice over the music. "How would you put it, Cary?"

Cary set his feet on the floor, moving carefully like Jon was a snake that might strike if he stepped wrong. "Sure, what you said." His voice was flat.

"Put Cary in the ring for real, and he would kick your ass for sure." Jon went on relentlessly. He waved the plastic controller. "This thing, not so much." Jon raised his voice again. "Hey, are they charging you for busting down that bus shelter? Is that the kind of thing you go to court for? Or will my parents just, like, pay the fine?"

Cary had his shoulders pressed back in the chair, buried under the familiar feeling of being too slow to duck and too dumb to leave. "No court. I'm paying the fine."

Kadee looked from Jon to him, her almond eyes wide. "What'd you do?"

Cary opened his mouth to make himself answer her, but Jon was faster. "Cary punched down a bus shelter. Better than the last time, right? How long did that kid have his face all wired in place because you broke like every bone?"