Only Oscar (Wattys 2022 Shortlist!)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Going home was a bad move.

Even with the guarantee his mom gave him that Callie wouldn't be there, Oscar's gaze continually searched the crowd. He told himself he wasn't looking for her, that he was just looking for other people he knew, but he was lying. And it was time to get real.

She didn't love him the way he loved her. It was over. He had to learn to live without her. A long, lonely, empty life because he was a fucking idiot. They could have stayed friends, been there for each other into their old age. But oh, no. He just had to open that goddamn door in his head and see what was on the other side. 

Curiosity. And he was the fucking cat.  An apt description. Cos the walking dead. That was him.

All around him, the living were having fun, smiling and laughing like it was the best day ever. The annual block party had always been a big draw. Stars and Stripes fluttered everywhere and the street was packed with people, the humid air filled with the sound of music and laughter and cheerful voices. 

He'd never felt more alone.

He tossed a weak smile at a kid wearing a Captain America T-Shirt, then frowned when a pig-tailed girl appeared to drag the boy away. Cap had no idea what he was getting into and for a second, Oscar was tempted to pull him aside and warn him. Instead, he turned his attention to the burgers sizzling on the gas barbecue in front of him, raised the bottle dangling from his fingers and took a long drink of beer.

Getting ass-faced and picking a fight with someone held a great deal of appeal when neither the weather nor his allocated duties as chef were doing anything to cool the rage burning inside him. But like always, his mother took one look at his face when he arrived and knew she had to keep him occupied until the storm passed. 

Probably best she didn't hold her breath this time.

She appeared at his side. "You okay?"

Oscar sighed heavily. It was somewhere in the region of the twentieth time she'd asked. And it was starting to grate on his nerves. "I'm fine."

Judging by her face, she wasn't buying it. "Do you need anything?"

"Nope, I think we're good 'til the pre-fireworks rush."

A couple of teenagers appeared at the table piled with buns, salad and condiments, mumbled their orders and stared at him while he got what they wanted off the grill. Since it happened at regular intervals, Oscar waited for them to ask.

"Are you the gopher guy?"

"Yup." He put burgers on buns. "What level you stuck on?"

"Four."

"Six."

"Whack the white rabbit in level four and he'll spit out a bonus." He handed over their food. "And in six, dig up the flowerbed by the fountain for a bag of extra lives."

"Thanks!"

Oscar forced another smile. "No problem."

"My son, the celebrity." His mother patted him on the shoulder. "Your dad would be so proud."

"Dad would say I should have a tip jar on that table for the service I'm providing," Oscar said dryly.

He would need the money if everyone got together and swapped information. There was enough of it out there now to make the new game as easy as pie. Just as well it was pre-ordered.

As he lifted his beer and scanned the crowd again, the bottle froze an inch from his mouth. 

"Shit."