Page 41 of Icarus

“I didn’t say anything.” Luca put his hands up, when Icarus glanced at him expectantly over his shoulder. “We’re past that, man.”

“Hmm.” Icarus knocked into Luca’s shoulder playfully. “Turning over a new leaf?”

Luca looked quietly thrilled at the contact, even glancing down at where they had touched. “Kind of. Anyway, I know you’re all . . . you. But I wanted to invite you to a party at my house? Homecoming after-party. There’ll be some people you know there . . .”

He trailed off, clearly expecting an immediate rejection.

“Who?” Icarus didn’t know Luca even knew who Icarus had talked to. At the moment, that was more pressing than saying no.

“Julian, Celestina, James, Rita, Noelle . . . I think Brian said he might come.” Luca scratched at his nose, then kicked a stick that was lying on the path.

Those were all previous acquaintances he’d had. Class friends, not real friends, all of whom he stopped talking to as soon as the class they shared was over. It was . . . uncomfortable that Luca was aware that they knew him.

“What is this, some kind of intervention? You cobble together everyone I’ve ever said hi to?” Icarus said in a voice he hoped sounded like he was joking.

“Not really? A lot of people are coming. And if it was an intervention I wouldn’t even tell you, it would have to be a surprise. Obviously.” He huffed. “I just asked Celestina and she rattled off some people who might make you feel comfortable enough to show up.”

Icarus grimaced. That was less terrible. Celestina was a social butterfly and on student council. It was on-brand for her to be in the know about who talks to who.

“Okay . . . maybe. I’ll think about it.”

Luca shrugged and dragged a hand through his curls. “I should also mention I’m going to homecoming with her.”

“Celestina?”

“You told me you weren’t dating her, so I figured I’d take my shot,” Luca said, a bit defensively.

Icarus stopped walking. “Dude, do what you want. Congratulations. I just didn’t think you guys knew each other. Until now.”

Luca shook his head. “Man, I forget sometimes,” he mumbled, clearly to himself, then looked hard at Icarus. “Everybody knows everybody here, Icarus. Just because we don’t hang out during the day doesn’t mean we don’t ever do stuff after hours.”

Icarus rolled his eyes, his face getting hot. “You don’t have to be a dick.”

Luca crossed his arms. “Come to my party. We’ll get drunk and get to talk to each other without having to be fucking walking the whole time.”

Icarus rubbed his temples. His father was gone for the week. He could probably get away with it. This might be the only time he could ever get away with it.

“If you don’t want to talk to Brian and Rita or whatever, we can just chill in my backyard and avoid them. Stick together the whole time like losers,” Luca said, with a grin. “Come be a loser at my house.”

Icarus took a deep breath.

Pink

Icarus’s house felt warm and comfortable with Angus Gallagher missing from it.

The afternoon sun poured in through the kitchen window, golden and soft. No humming machinery or whining of a drill, no sharp scent of vinegar or varnish.

Just quiet. It felt like a different space entirely.

Icarus bought fresh vegetables, fruit, and flowers for the table. He set about making a cucumber salad and pan-fried pork chops. Even dinner would be better like this. Sitting alone at their small wood table, listening to the sound of their neighbors moving above and below him. Kids getting home from school and screaming with laughter as they walked up the path to the apartment.

Icarus glanced across the room at the note his father had left on the door.

When Icarus moved out, he would get to have this all the time. He would make sure of it.

The new place he’d live would have tall wide windows to let in so much light. The walls would be bare, not cluttered with frames, and it would be so clean inside. He would pick a place close to a grocery store so he could go shopping every day after classes. He would keep ferns of course, but would also have vases of flowers and bowls of fruit and the whole house would smell like their ripening. He would take one painting of his mom, just one so it had more meaning.

His bedroom would be the biggest room in the house. Even if he had to share it with the kitchen or put his bed in the living room. He’d have a mattress big enough to make snow angels.