HIDING - every scar has a story

11. Pete's pancakes.

{Cary}

Cary woke up to the sound of someone passing in the hallway outside his door. He lay still a second, looking up at the pin holes of light coming through an unfamiliar curtain, trying to remember where he was. He untangled himself from the nest of blankets on the floor and got up, fully dressed. He'd gone to sleep in his clothes even though he knew in this house probably nothing would wake him up in the night. He left Jon, still asleep in his bed, to get a smoke.

Jon's dad was in the kitchen, at the stove, dropping pancake batter onto a hot griddle. It sizzled as it hit the pan. He looked around and smiled when he saw Cary. "An early riser. Did you have a good sleep?"

"Yes sir." The shadows under Pete's eyes told Cary not to ask how he slept in return. He didn't know how to have a conversation with a father, so he edged out the door.

Dew bent the grass in Jon's backyard. Cary buttoned his jacket against the chill and lit his smoke, watching the dew steam off the grass, as the sun lifted over the trees.

He tried to imagine what it would be like to be Jon, waking up in this tiny house every day. Safe. Cary drew a breath. He'd been afraid for so long it had started to feel like normal. He felt fifty pounds lighter at Jon's house—like he could leave off the stone face and just be Cary. If he even knew how.

He stubbed his cigarette and went back into the house. Jon was sitting at the kitchen table; his hair rumpled up over his cowlick. He smiled. "Morning."

The kitchen was warm and fragrant with the smell of pancakes. Cary hunched his shoulders, suddenly conscious of the stink of cigarettes in his jacket. "Okay if I shower?"

"These pancakes'll be ready in five minutes." Pete said.

"I'll be fast." Cary said.

Jon took him to find towels and shampoo. "You sleep okay on my floor?" Jon said.

One side of Cary's mouth pulled up. Almost a smile. "Yup, nice and soft."

"So what do you want to do today?"

Cary hesitated. "My mom had the baby yesterday. I think I should go see her."

"Wow, okay." Jon thought a second. "Things might get a little crazy with a new baby at your house. If you need a place to crash, you know you can come here right?"

Cary looked him in the face. He couldn't say the words for how much he would like that. He said, "Sure, thanks." 

///

He came out of the bathroom in his shirtsleeves. Jon was lying on the couch watching cartoons. "Dad says pancakes are ready for us."

Cary closed his hands, feeling naked with the open air touching the skin on his arms. "Do you have a sweater I could borrow?"

Jon swung his legs off the couch. "Yeah sure, in my room."

Jon waited for him to pull the sweater on, sitting on top of his desk. "Your scars. What happened?"

Cary checked his arms for what was showing. Just his wrists. "Skate accident. Hit the concrete. Broke to shit." The lie came easy; he'd been doing it his whole life. "There's pins in them now." That part at least was true.

Jon grimaced. "Yikes. I guess that'll teach you not to wear wrist guards."

Tuck and roll, Cary thought. That's what he'd learned that time. His face was hot. "Sorry for swearing."

Jon lifted a shoulder with a laugh. "Like I haven't heard it before."

They went upstairs for pancakes. 

*Who wants to spend the weekend at Jon's house? (Me!)*

618 words.