Page 40 of Icarus

“Always,” he promised. “I’ll see you soon. Go back to sleep.”

Spell

Icarus wrapped his arms around himself in the early morning chill and jogged quickly across the street. Helios had been a bit off with his timing: the world was already light blue even though the sun hadn’t come over the horizon yet. It was bright enough to see.

“Hey!”

“Hey kid!” Louder this time.

Icarus looked up.

A sweaty-looking man with a comb-over had his keys in the door of the diner. When Icarus made eye contact, he hooked his fingers to call him over.

Icarus gritted his teeth and changed direction.

“Do you need anything, sir?”

The man seemed to rethink what he was about to say, then shook his head resolutely.

“I know how it is. Young love and all that, probably sneaking into your girlfriend’s house all hours of the night. Believe me, I’ve been a teenager, I get it,” he said.

Icarus’s heart raced in his chest but he forced his face into complete blankness.

The man, clearly the diner owner, rubbed a hammy palm across his forehead. “You should be careful with that one. I know she might seem worth it, buddy, I do. But the guy who lives in that house? He’s not a gentleman, that’s for sure.”

“Okay,” Icarus said, with a sharp nod. “Can I go, sir?”

“I mean it. Yous two can see each other at school or, hell, maybe even get a booth in the back here. It’s not worth it.” He shook his head and unlocked the door. “Fuckin’ maniac,” he muttered.

“Yes, sir . . . thanks for the warning.” Icarus looked down the street, then reconsidered and asked, “Do . . . you see him often?”

The owner scoffed. “Oh no, him? He’s banned. Ten years now. Broke a waitress’s wrist, he grabbed her so hard. Just spilled a little coffee on him, once. I mean, it was her fault but y’don’t have to get physical over all that. It’s a matter of respect.”

He pointed a finger at Icarus’s chest. “I says to him, ‘You can’t treat the girls like that. Not in my house, not under my roof.’ Then he broke a few glasses here and there, hollering. But he ain’t been in since. We got a picture in the back so the new girls know not to let him in.”

Icarus grimaced. “Okay. Thank you.”

The owner sighed and reached out to pat Icarus hard on the shoulder. “You have a good day, kid. See you round.”

Lost

Angus wasn’t home when Icarus got in. It was more disconcerting than if he had been there and angry that Icarus was out all night.

Icarus headed straight to the bathroom and took a quick shower. He hoped that if his father had just stopped out for breakfast he’d be able to convince him he’d spent the night on the roof.

Icarus had nearly finished getting ready for school when he finally saw the note taped to the inside of the front door.

“Small emergency, be back on Friday. No visitors. Use the joint account if necessary. —Angus.”

Well.

He let his bag slide off his shoulder, undressed, curled up in his closet, and went back to sleep.

Bright

“Heads up!”

Icarus reached into the sky and plucked the football out of the air. He lobbed it back to the kids playing on the pitch nearby.