First Day On Earth Read Online Free Page B

there, with my mother on the floor. Surely he wasn’t going to leave me all by myself.
    And there, watching that man with those stupid sparklers, I knew for sure, my dad wasn’t ever coming back. He didn’t care at all. He could be standing right in front of me and he could see how much I hurt and he wouldn’t care.
    I looked back at my mom, the sauerkraut at her feet. The dog only half eaten but two big cups of beer next to her on the table. And I imagined that if I felt this bad, she felt a million times worse. And suddenly it was like there was a piano sitting on my chest. The only way to breathe was to walk, to make sure that oxygen was coming into my body. So I started to walk. But I couldn’t see which direction I was going in. I just kept walking. I didn’t have a flashlight. I tore my pants. The stars were so bright that I could swear they were changing colors. And then the fireworks stopped. I couldn’t hear the voices of everyone gathered to watch them. I was winded. I was farther away from anywhere than I’d ever been before.
    I knew that there were scorpions and rattlers all around. And I was too heavy. My limbs were so heavy. My eyes so heavy. My heart so heavy.
    I dropped to the ground.
    Ready to die.
    But instead, the lights came.
    They were small at first. And then they came.

18.
     
    There are kids everywhere on the lawn, on the sidewalk, on the stairs, at the picnic tables because it is fifth-period lunch. I am sitting by the flagpole next to a garbage can, by myself, eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Josh and his boys are at the picnic tables right in front of me. The boys are trying to pinch the girls who are with them. Posey is sitting on the ground. She is eating a roast beef sandwich. There is mayonnaise on her face.
    Darwyn is sitting on the ground between me and them. It looks like he might be with them. But I know he’s not. That’s where his spot is, though.
    I’m close enough to observe everything. It makes me glad to not have friends.
    “Hey, Darwyn,” Josh yells. Darwyn perks up at the sound of his name.
    “Yes, Josh?” Darwyn says, and takes it as an invitation to move just a little bit closer to that special circle.
    “We’re going to have a party at my house next Friday night,” Josh says. “My parents are going out of town for the weekend. You can come if you bring the beer again.”
    Darwyn brightens.
    “I can get some from my dad’s store,” he says. “No problem.”
    “Outstanding,” Josh says. Posey gets up, maybe to throw away her napkin. Josh takes his legs and squeezes them around her, to trap her. She laughs and pretends to beat him away. Finally, he lets her go. She goes to the garbage can. She picks up something else that didn’t make it in and places it in there, too. I like that she sees things like that.
    “Bring more beer than you did last time,” Josh says. “Loads of it.”
    Darwyn nods his head a couple of times. Then he looks at me for confirmation that he was really invited. Because he assumes that I must’ve heard it.
    I give him the thumbs-up. He gives it back to me.
    He doesn’t go back to reading his book. He just stands around, hovering. Laughing with the group. Interjecting here and there. And today they’re encouraging him. So he’s going on and on about something or other.
    Right now I hear them doing trivia, and Darwyn is answering every question right. Sometimes they treat him like he’s an idiot savant.
    And they laugh right at him, right in front of him, right in his face, and they say, “Lung knows it all!”
    I can’t remember the last time I ate lunch with someone. Mark and Sameer never eat outside. They say that it depresses them too much. They eat in the library. But I like the sun. The sun is a star. I wonder what constellation we’re in.
    It seems strange to sit here and listen to Josh and the other kids share everything that is boring and mundane when all Iwant to do is talk. But if I do, I want to talk