Pentience and Requiem

St. Louis 1918

Rocky drags his feet against the sidewalk, scuffing the already worn leather of his shoes. He is tired, and he knows nothing good waits for him at home. His aunt will see the black eye and split lip, and promptly tell him to get out again. She wouldn't have someone looking like that in her house. It won't be the first time Rocky had spent the night on a park bench because of his aunts' sensibilities, and he strongly suspects it won't be the last.

Freckle comes running down the steps as soon as he hears the screen door slam, stopping short when he sees the slumped shoulders and hat pulled too low.

“Rocky?” he asks, voice small and innocent as nine year olds are wont to be.

“Heya, Freckle.” He somehow manages to summon a grin. It's a pathetic attempt, a ghost of his normal expression, but it stands between them like a flag of truce. Heavier footsteps clip neatly out of the kitchen, a soldiers march across the battle field of child rearing. They to stop abruptly, as if their owner became suddenly distracted.

“Roark Rickaby!” His aunts' voice is shrill.

“I'll go pack a bag, auntie.” Rocky offers up a better grin, and wonders if the corners of his mouth are beginning to wear thin; if one day they'll simply crack and split, rendering him unable to smile. He wonders if that would be such a bad thing.

“How do you get yourself into such trouble, boy?” Rocky's smile wavers. He started tenth grade this year. He was still a little too fast, a little too noisy. He was always getting farther and farther ahead until finally the distance between himself and everybody else was too great and someone had to knock him back down.

Rocky collects bruises as reminders, the way some people tie string around thei...

... middle of paper ...

... grades and doesn't back-chat the teachers. They've been talking about bumping him up a grade level again. Saying maybe if he struggled with his school work a little his peers wouldn't be jealous of him and he'd have an easier time. Jealous is an odd word, Rocky takes a moment to reflect. It implies he has something worth wanting.

“You can stop by the house tomorrow to pick up anything I might have missed.” She's saying. Rocky missed whatever explanation she gave. “Try and come when Calvin is at school.” She knows he won't leave without telling Freckle good bye.

“Sure thing, auntie.” He smiles, humming in the back of his throat.

“Be good. I love you.” She looks sad. He can't imagine why she would look sad.

“Love you too.” He says instead, and goes back to playing. This time it's something a little sad and melancholy. He doesn't feel lucky anymore.