Page 72 of Silent Damage

Jason, I jot it down.

“Yeah. It’ll get you away from the trailer for a night. Felix can’t come, and I hate going alone. I hate going, period, but Tobias asked me. Will you come?”

I rarely go to the Kitty Cat Club with Torren. In fact, I think I’ve only gone with him twice. He tries to keep that part of his life separate from the life he’s building now.

My cheeks flush—I’m kind of honored.

I nod my head, yes.

“Nice. We’ll meet at the club around 9:30. The fights start at 10.” Torren pats me on the shoulder and says, “Don’t let that fuck face get to you. Take a ten and scarf down a donut. I’m gonna finish up on the floor.”

Torren walks off, leaving me alone with a bunch of donuts and my thoughts. I associate these donuts with Torren because he loves them so much, but there was a time when Jason and I used to go to Maggie’s Diner with my mom a lot.

The swivel chairs at the bar are my favorite part about coming to Maggie’s. Well, that and the chocolate donuts.

And Jason.

Always Jason.

Jason sits between Mom and me while I spin on the chair like I’m six years old.

Maggie saunters over, smelling like Newports, and wags her finger. “You’re gonna lose your lunch if you keep that up, Gabey.”

Mom reaches around Jason and sets her hand on my knee, stopping my fun. “Enough,” she says in a low tone with eyes that could kill.

My cheeks flush. “Sorry.”

Jason laughs at me and says, “I’m gonna eat your donut if you leave it sitting there any longer.”

“The fuck you will!”

My mom shouts, “Gabe!” and Jason howls with laughter.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” she asks. “We’re at a restaurant.”

“Okay, sorry!”

Mom rolls her eyes, but she’s still got a smile on her face. She’s right. I’m wild right now, but I’m excited. This is starting to become a weekly thing for us, and I love it. Jason and I get to hang out, and Mom gets some time away from Dad.

Plus donuts. Amazing donuts.

“Alright, boys, it’s time for homework.” Jason and I groan, but Mom cuts us off: “No whining. That’s the deal. You get donuts, but we need to do homework, too.”

We grab our backpacks off the floor. The inside of my bag is basically a single folder, a lunch box, and a hundred different drawings. I can barely find the stupid folder on some days.

Jason’s backpack is empty aside from the papers he has from school. I’ve never seen him have a folder, a Trapper Keeper, or anything like that.

He pulls the wad of paper out of his bag and starts smoothing the sheets on the counter.

“Jason,” my mom gasps. “You did it! Look at this.”

My mom takes a piece of paper and examines it. “You got a B, Jason!”

I turn to Jason, who is bright red. “It’s just a B.”

Mom playfully slaps the counter and scolds, “Bs are good! I’m so proud of you. I know you hate math. You got a D on the last quiz, and now a B? That’s incredible.”

It’s rare to see Jason look bashful. He rubs the back of his neck and says, “The only reason I did well is because you studied with me. I’m dumb on my own.”