A Child's Thoughts
Jude
Most of all, he liked the way the gym made him feel — powerful and worthy. He felt worthy when someone would notice him growing and compliment him; when someone assumed he was on a sports team; when Mom asked him to move her heavy packages around the house for her. It validated all the time he spent there — time that Dad believed would be better spent on studies. Dad resented that, for all his son’s strength, Syros was not actually on any sports team. His muscles did nothing but take up space and consume copious amounts of food. Without a team, his pecs and delts wouldn’t be getting him into any schools. Wasted potential. Wasted space. Wasted time.
Jude
He tried to sweep the ashes off the countertop in front of him, but the moisture from his hands turned it into a terrible smear. Fate told him it was too late to put in last-ditch efforts, so he just turned off the TV and sat there. When Julie stepped in, the only sound was her keys jangling between her fingers. She closed her eyes, the smell of funky man-BO mixed with cannabis hitting her, and let her duffel hit the floor. “Jude. You’ve gotta be fricken kidding me.” Her eyes were still closed, but she was vibrating with rage and frustration. Jude could see it. It was very familiar.
Sierra
Sierra was staring at the ceiling, hands folded across her chest, thinking about tomorrow. It was her first night at Uni, and she was so excited she couldn’t sleep. Though she was a regular insomniac, her melatonin usually had her out by 2:00 A.M.. It was 3:17.
