Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes
The day Casey found out Robbie had sex with Evelyn Yert was a cold, slushy day in mid-January. He came roaring up in that blue Mustang of his, exhaust cut short as if he thought the world wouldn’t notice him otherwise. He wore no coat, not even a rain jacket to hold off the mush occasionally sluicing down for minutes at a time.
Short-sleeved and angry, Casey banged on the door, setting off Mom’s angel prism to spinning tortured rainbows across the entrance. From down the hall came her voice, her ears attuned to the chaos that was Casey.
“You tell that rascal not to punch my door, Brendon. Tell him I’ll not invite him to a single casserole dinner if he can’t find some quiet in his crazy.”
Red-eyed and rough, Casey scowled the moment Brendon opened the door.
“Not inside. Can’t be cooped up. Not now. Come on.” He turned before he’d finished speaking, sure in the knowledge Brendon wouldn’t resist.
He was bouncing on his toes in the wet street, hands shoved into his pockets and breath coming out in dragon steam puffs by the time Brendon joined him, handing a second coat over. Casey merely laughed miserably and climbed into the driver’s seat, so that coat went into the back, crumpled to the floor where it lay forgotten for three weeks.
“Did you know?”
They pulled out of Brendon’s street, Mustang grumbling under the floorboards.
“About Evelyn!” Casey slammed a hand on the wheel. “About her and Robbie over break. About that stupid party Dylan fucking Westerman put on in his stupid fucking garage.”
“Dylan had a party?”
“Didn’t invite us.” Casey sneered and his foot moved just a little lower to the floor now they’d hopped to a larger road. “Of course he didn’t invite us. Why the fuck would he invite anyone from Castlebrock unless they live in the neighborhood’s crowned hill. Fuck Robbie. Fuck him into next year.”
“Guess he thought Robbie would tell us.”
Casey laughed bitterly. “Stop lying, Bren. You know he didn’t. He didn’t tell you so you wouldn’t tell me so he could pretend he’s better than us because daddy’s got a yacht and a profit-turning company and mommy’s got a PhD she didn’t have to pay for.”
Brendon swallowed down the strong lump of rising bile threatening to choke him. Then he shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. Can’t help where you’re born.” He looked at his hand where it rested next to the gearshift near Casey’s paler one. “It sucks. But it’s just the way it is. Sooner you realize it, the better.”
“And fuck you too for having that mentality.”
Next Chapter Coming Apr 21st!