A french fry bounced off my cheek and landed in the congealing grease on my pizza slice. I looked up from my tray, startled. “What’s up, bro?” Zach asked, as he wiped his hands on a napkin. “I called your name, like, three times.” “Just tired,” I said. “Long day.” A burst of laughter came from the other end of our cafeteria table, where Caleb, Derek, Scott, and Matt were all talking about something that seemed to involve fireworks and a poorly placed sofa cushion. “There’s tired, and then there’s the walking dead,” Zach said around a mouthful of burger. “You are the latter today, my friend. What’s up?” Audrey gave a nervous bark of laughter, pushing her hair back from her face. “Zach.” I shook my head, negating her concern over Zach’s choice of words. My anger from yesterday afternoon had faded, leaving a heavy gray haze over everything. My dad had driven me home in a mutual tense silence. Then the three of us had taken turns trying to talk Sarah into coming out from under the bed.
