Chapter 6:

One Bullet, Four Sugars

Midsummer Crisis


Waking up is a pretty exciting thing.

As you rise from your pillow, hardly knowing how you got there, it takes a minute to even recall who you are or what you were doing the day before. It’s a freeing, exhilarating experience to start the day out with. The sun already lighting up my room, I leap out of bed, strutting up to my window to look down at the town below. Right next to me, the house of the person I love more than anyone else in the world. A little ways down, the best friend I’ve had the pleasure of knowing my whole life. I already know where I’m going today. I put on a thin jacket and shorts, and swing my door wide open!

“Ahhh!”

The loud bang is over in an instant, but the following seconds are long and quiet. The magical-girl covered door slowly sways back and forth as the inertia of my now removed hand wears off. I hear sniffling and the shuffling of a small body behind it as it stand unmoving in the doorway.

“M-Mylie? Are you okay?”

“Nooo…”

I walk out of my room and close the door back. My sister’s curled up on the ground, clenching her head as some red starts to appear in between her fingers.

“Oh my god, are you alright?”

“I said no!”

“You’re bleeding! Here- come on, let’s get you some help!”

Me and my dad take half an hour to clean and patch up Mylie’s forehead, squeezing into the bathroom to work on her as she sits on the toilet. The sink drawers are open, with all our first aid supplies laid out inside.

“And this happened first thing in the morning? Maybe you oughta stop trying to wake your brother up, Mylie…”

“I didn’t even get a chance to… the door just slammed open.”

“I’m really sorry.” I tell her. “I didn’t know you’d be there.”

“I didn’t know you’d be up so early…”

“Yeah… Well, I’ll be more careful opening doors from now on.”

“Yeah, okay…”

The moment eventually ends, Mylie’s head recovering and dad returning to his morning work in the dining room. Commissions have been coming in like crazy ever since the party, but he’s refused to let me help at all. He says that from now on, I need to make my life out of things I actually like doing.

I suppose I can’t ignore his order, so I continue with my plans for the day. I was originally going to see Cleo first thing in the morning and then tell Kirk about whatever happened afterward, but for now, I think I really just need an old friend to chill with for a bit. So, I carefully exit my front door and start making my way there.

Going down the road, I once again notice Seth looking at Cleo’s house from the outside. I’m not necessarily afraid of him anymore, so I consider checking in with him, but I really just don’t want to talk to him anyway, so I keep walking. Doing the things I want to do also means not doing the things I don’t want to, does it not?

I’m pretty sure Kirk’s front door is either always unlocked or doesn’t have a lock, and I’m sure I’d be welcome there anytime, but I knock anyway. Unlike my first time at Cleo’s, I’m not anxious at all as I wait for a response. I’m sure someone heard me in such a small house, and while I don’t yet understand all of them, I like his family.

Without too much of a wait, the door opens. Behind it is Kirk’s father, whose eye contact is so intense it makes me a little afraid of what Kirk might end up looking like when he gets older.

“Uh… Mr. Lewis, hello.”

“Hello. Roscoe. What is it you’ve come here for today?”

“I’d… uh… like to see Kirk?” I ask, trying to figure out what he’s interrogating me for all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry, Kirk is busy today.”

“But… he uh, worked yesterday, right? And the day before that? This is his day off, isn’t it?”

“For work, yes. But today he is studying.”

“Studying? For, uh, college?

“Yes, that’s right. He’s finally been taking his future into his own hands lately.”

“That’s… uh, great. Can I talk to him later?” Mr. Lewis looks at me as if I have asked him the same pointless question twice. He immediately responds:

“No. Today is his study day. Go home.”

I try not to sigh. Man, this sucks. Three days in a row now I don’t get to see him. Even without talking to Cleo again, if I saw him now we’d still have so much to catch up on. But I guess it can’t be helped. I turn around, and I-

“Hey! Roscoe!”

I turn back around, and Kirk is looking right at me, looking over his dad’s arm as the strict, tall man holds the doorknob.

“What’s up?” He says.

“Kirk-“ his dad tries to get out. I don’t hear it in time.

“Kirk, hey! So happy to see you! Dude, yesterday I-“

“Kirk.”

We both freeze as Kirk’s father is forced to repeat himself. He looks at us both, before choosing his son as his target of conversation.

“You have a lot of work to do in figuring out what you’ll be doing this time next year. Son, I want you to go back to your room.”

“Oh- no, dad, it’s okay. It’s just Roscoe, I can talk to him for a-“

“No you cannot.” He points to me now. “This boy is the very reason I believe you have slipped up so much this year. You could have easily caught up in this time, but now you’re behind everyone again, frolicking about with this other slacker as you pass up your chance to get ahead. Kirk Alexander Lewis, you will go to your room this instant.”

“Sir…” I begin, trying to calm things down. “Um, Mr. Lewis, if you will, please accept my apology for disturbing- you and your son… I will try not to if you can-“

“Shut up and get off of my porch. I held my tongue while you were in my home because I thought that if I just ignored you you’d slip away and we’d never hear from you again. But now I see that you’re not content failing on your own. You want to bring others down too. I know your kind. You do nothing your whole life and then expect to be rewarded by the system- because you’re good, because you’re wealthy, because you’re white- well let me tell you this, Mr. Fletcher- you may be rewarded, and you may succeed even where others try harder and still fail- but you will not drag my son down and stand atop his corpse. Do you understand?”

I feel like someone threw a flashbang at me or something. I’m not thinking quick enough to perceive what’s going on. Kirk is still behind Mr. Lewis, looking… embarrassed? Offended? I’m not sure, but he’s certainly angry. He’s yelling at his dad. I’ve never seen him yell like this before. It’s not like when he apprehends a “punk” like Seth for some mundane crime, or when he gets way too passionate about something random. He’s starting to cry. I can tell why. Because even though Kirk is letting his heart out, Mr. Lewis is still just staring at me. His dad isn’t even listening to him, and it’s the most frustrating thing in the world. I can’t hear any of the individual words. I have no idea what Kirk actually thinks about all this, or how it really pertains to me. I don’t even know what to think anymore. I feel ugly. Wrong. I don’t like any of this. But for some reason, I don’t have the urge to run away. I’m uncomfortable, but not anxious. I want to work this out. I want to solve this. I want everyone to understand each other.

But the door is closed before I have a chance to make that happen. And this time- even though I know it’s probably not locked- I understand I can’t go in there, even if I want to.

I don’t immediately go to Cleo’s house like I had planned. I go home. I sit in my room, and I eat lunch, thinking about things. Normally, I can’t eat without having a steam or WebTube video open, but today, I do so in complete silence. My head is loud enough. I try to work out what’s going on with Kirk, and his family. I still know it’s not my business, and I don’t ever want to force myself into their lives, but I can’t help but to try and at least think on what I already know. There are a few words in particular Kirk’s father spoke that, though I don’t like lingering on, I can’t help but to admit I can’t stop repeating in my head.

You do nothing your whole life and then expect to be rewarded by the system- because you’re good, because you’re wealthy, because you’re white.

I don’t like these words. I don’t like them, not because they’re somehow lies, but because they’re things I never wanted to- never did- think about. Kirk’s father is an old man, older than mine. I don’t know what life was like for him. Of course, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s why he acts the way he does- whether he’s right or not. But it makes me uncomfortable because I didn’t ever have to wonder about that kind of thing until now. Like, when I think of Kirk, I don’t think, “my black friend Kirk” or, “my poor friend Kirk.” Only a weirdo or a total asshole would think like that. Kirk’s just my friend, and that’s the only way I’ve ever seen him. I’ve been taught my whole life that your circumstances don’t account for who you end up as- you know, grow up to be whatever you want to be, that sort of thing. But that’s not to say some people don’t have it worse than others, is it? Of course, Kirk has it alright at the end of the day, I think- his family seems to be making it, they’re just allocating their money to where it counts; even if it hurts them a little. While his life is far from perfect, and… yeah, maybe I have got it better in a lot of ways… wouldn’t putting it like that be kind of off? How much have my inherent qualities affected my experience in life? I hate that. I hate all of that. Kirk is my friend, and I’m his. Our races or financial status don’t have anything to do with it. It’s so… gross to think about.

I lay in my bed. Today sucks. The bottom line is, Mr. Lewis, no matter what his intentions are… to me, he’s just another person like Seth or Elias. He’s someone who I don’t understand and have to come to terms with in order to keep this summer a good one. And looking back at it all, I’ve done pretty well so far wrapping my head around people. I don’t always care for Seth- and Elias is someone so different from me it hurts to think about him- but I get them now. I know why they act the ways they do, or at least, I believe I do. If I can understand them… I can figure out Mr. Lewis, and maybe even help him. Because I love Kirk, and that love extends to his family, too. I gotta get that old guy to understand one thing- if there’s anyone who’s gonna be what they want to be in this world, it’s Kirk- and no amount of circumstances are going to stop him. I can’t say for sure how much of my good fortune in life was earned- but if you asked me who’s more likely to make it in the end- it’s not even a question. Kirk’s the toughest guy I know, no contest.

Pumping myself up, I get ready to go out again. One or two bad things are no longer enough to get me to hole up in my room. Cleo’s house, here I come.

The old house next to me is so big. I find myself looking up at it, and realize the upstairs bedroom is right next to my room in my own house, judging by the windows. No wonder I could hear her streaming from it that first night. Kinda makes me laugh how everytime I’m watching an Anata stream nowadays, she’s probably not even forty feet away from me.

This time, Cleo’s at the door as soon as I ring the bell. She wears a black tank top and denim shorts, I suppose a garment far more fitting for summer than her model’s gothic dress. I try to imagine her in that, but it just looks strange.

“What’s happening, Ross? Wanna… watch more anime or something?”

“Ross? Heh, uh… my dad calls me that.”

“Oh. Sorry, that must be weird. We’ll have to come up with some other name for you or something. Come on, come inside, Hahahoo!”

I smile, her laugh pulling me into her home. I’ve come to really like this place now, and it’s getting better every time I visit. There’s pictures on the walls and everything now. Nothing incriminating, of course- no ProdoTV logos anywhere- but she has some anime stuff near the couch. Her taste is, of course, about the same as she said it was in her debut- closer to Mylie’s than mine, a bit more “sophisticated” I guess, with stuff like New World Protesta, Heaven’s Gate and Dakira. Once I’m done admiring it all, I sit on the couch, careful to pick the same spot I did last time.

“Hey, Roscoe? You want some more coffee today?”

“Uh, sure.”

“How do you want it?”

“Just… however you did it last time, I guess. That was good.”

“Alright, four sugars then.”

I sit, awaiting my beverage like some spoiled princess. I realize that if I really ever want any shot at being seen as the man in this theoretical relationship, I’d better start doing things for myself, or at least helping. So I get up and walk into the kitchen, where I see Cleo just finished with brewing the coffee, as she pours it into a glass.

“Hey, need any help?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Uh, I could at least carry it-“

“Well- yeah, you are in here. Alright, here’s your coffee.”

As she holds the full cup towards me I try to wrap my hands around it, but my fingers happen to brush hers just as she starts to let go- and we end up dropping the cup onto the tile floor, shattering to to pieces.

“Oh shit!” I declare by reflex. “I mean- oh- oh no!” I stammer retroactively, trying to be more polite. I’m blushing and freaking out and hating every second of it. Okay, this is too much. This didn’t have to happen today. I mean, come on. I already hit my sister in the forehead first thing in the morning and got lectured by my friend’s dad and… and everything just sucks.

But Cleo’s laughing.

She’s wiping the floor, picking up the pieces, and laughing, just like Anata would.

Some people say Vtubers are always just putting on a performance, but that’s not entirely true. Truth is, it’s just too hard to hold back your whole self all the time. And while she might not be a vampire princess, Cleo’s still optimistic.

I help her clean, and afterwards, we end up sitting around doing nothing at all. No drinks. No anime. Just conversation. I want to ask her one thing, even though it’s simple.

“Cleo… I had a bad… no, I had a shit day today. I don’t know what to do and I feel bad about myself for things I can’t help. I- I dunno.”

“How have you felt as a whole recently?” She asks compassionately.

“Huh… actually… pretty good, I guess?”

“This is a fringe theory, but… sometimes I feel like the better life gets, the worse the bad bits do too. Yet, at the same time, those bad parts feel utterly meaningless when life as a whole becomes bad. What I’m trying to say is… either you have it good in life, but have bad days, or life gets so bad that the pain from the bad days of the past goes away entirely. So really… I mean, geez, don’t sweat it kid. I mean, I’m not gonna make you ignore it and pray tomorrow’s better- it could suck too- but just… I dunno, try to enjoy it? It’s different, isn’t it? A little exciting?”

“Well… I don’t get it, but yeah.”

“Actually, scratch all that- what I want to say is- well- no. Y’know, nevermind. Actually, you see Roscoe- I had a shit day too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid Seth has been… watching me. I think he… knows something I don’t like people knowing. And… honestly, I’m a little scared.”

“That’s… awful.” My mind starts racing again. Just when I thought today couldn’t get any worse. Is Seth… trying to dox Cleo? Why else would he be spying on her? But if that’s true… what reason does he have to dox her? I thought he wanted nothing to do with her.

“Yeah. Well, do you know what I’m gonna do about it?”

“What? Do you- um- want me to confront him?”

“Whahuh? Hell no. I’m just gonna drink and smoke and forget about it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I spend that night in bed with Bluetooth earbuds on listening to Anata’s karaoke steam. Even after all the fear that’s sure to have gone on in her day today… she sings like it’s nothing.

Adults are scary.