Sixty-Two ☼ Phan

Eleven

When I was six years old, I stole a king size Twix bar from the convenient store.

My mom had a headache and wanted some painkillers. I was trailing behind her, looking around, jumping from dark square to dark square of the checkered flooring. Then, I saw it, same isle as the medicine and behind a bottle of cough syrup. The candy bar. Abandoned, in the wrong place, probably left behind by another kid like me. After their parents told them no, maybe.

I don't really know why I took it. It was there, and when my mom turned around I just shoved it in my pocket. It was my favorite candy at the time. All I know is that, after that, when we got home, I felt so bad for getting away with it that I cried. I cried and cried and when my parents asked me what was wrong I told them I was hungry.

They believed me. And you know what they did? They bought me a Twix bar. Because they were my favorite.

I ate it. They wanted me to, so I put on the fakest smile ever and finished the whole thing with licked lips, because, if I didn't, they would have known I was a liar. Later that day I ate the other one, too. It gave me a terrible stomachache. I stopped liking Twix after that. To this day, I still won't eat them.

I suppose that's karma, right? Bad things happen to people that do bad things. Good things happen to people that do good things.

So then, if that's true, why did my dad have to die?

"Dan?"

I opened my eyes. Chris was stood leaning over me, and upon seeing him I jumped backwards, hitting my head on the wall. He snickered, consequently earning another set of laughter from who I assumed to be Peej.

"What?" I groaned, sitting up and rubbing my skull.

"You slept passed the bell. It's breakfast." Peej walked over.

I blinked, taken aback. "I slept passed the bell?"

"Weird, right?" Chris said. "That thing could wake me up even if I was dead asleep three miles away."

I frowned.

"Did you dream?" Peej asked curiously as I slid from the bed, hitting the wood with my bare feet then slipping on some jeans and shoes.

We walked together, as always. "No."

Or maybe I did dream. I didn't remember. I never remember my dreams, even if I do have them. They're there for a minute when I wake up, then are gone. Never enough time to write them down.

I was famished. Not eating yesterday did an angry number on my stomach, and I was beginning to feel its after effects, throbbing into my head and pounding on the spot I'd just hit it on. I'd never been so happy to see two scoops of soggy scrambled eggs than I was as I sat down.

Phil was already waiting at the table with his own breakfast. It was half eaten, and I was once more reminded of my little debacle of not hearing that annoying battle-screech bell. He watched me eat for a moment before turning and poking halfheartedly at the tray with his fork.

James was there, too. He came in, fashionably late, and sat down. An actual tray today instead of potato chips. All those pesky carbohydrates must have finally gotten to him.

When I finished, I think my head cleared up a little. Hunger was washed away, no longer my main priority, and I found myself looking over to Phil. Peej, Chris, and James all weren't talking, though I didn't take much notice.

He pretended to ignore me while I turned to him, looking up at the ceiling. I frowned, tipping my head sideways a little as to get him a better view of my face. He looked up further.