Free The Line That Binds by J.M. Miller Page B

scanned the landscape of the property that I’d own before the end of the school year. It was peaceful, a huge change from the busy areas of Summerlin and Las Vegas. I was so accustomed to the loud sounds of the city: trains, planes, and sirens. The silence here would be difficult to get used to. It made me completely aware of myself, whether I wanted to be or not. Or maybe that self-awareness was internal. Either way, I was taking a hard look at myself for one of the first times, and I was ashamed.
    A thicket of brush caught my eye before I left the window. It lined part of the wood’s edge behind the mansion’s courtyard, past the stone gazebo. The mass of knotted vines and bushes were sloppy compared with the rest of the groomed property. Through some thin breaks in the trees, I could see a roof that looked like the top of a well. The well.

 
     
     
    “Benj! Where the hell have you been, man?” Sebastian, a.k.a. Spaz, called down the hallway in his usual I-don’t-give-a-crap voice.
    I nudged through the sea of underclassmen exiting the cafeteria, parting them easily with my height advantage. Most of them had their noses buried in their schedules, searching for their next classes. Only a few eyes bothered to see who Spaz was talking to.
    “Dude, I’ve been looking for you all morning. I thought maybe you decided to call it quits and drop out of this hole. Hey, ladies,” Spaz said, tossing a wink at a couple of girls walking beside us. They giggled at him and whispered to each other in response. Freshman.
    I shook my head at him and pointed to the table along the side wall of the cafeteria. His blond hair was a spiked mess, like he’d spent a few extra minutes primping in front of his bedroom mirror, perfecting the I-don’t-give-a-crap look to match his voice. I’d never call him out on it because I understood. Most people wanted to start a new school year with a good impression. It made me glad to have short hair so I truthfully didn’t have to give a crap.
    “So, spill. Did your street bike not start this morning or something? You could have called me for a ride,” he prompted after we dropped our books at the table and stepped up to the lunch line.
    “I had that appointment to get the jaw wire pulled today. I told you last week,” I answered, dropping a few single-serve puddings on my lunch tray with a bottle of water. “They gave me some bands to keep it braced when I’m not eating. They said it looks good though, and they’re pretty sure the arch bar can come off next week.”
    “Another week? Sorry, man. I shouldn’t have been that close to you on the turn. I can’t trust my bike to stay together anymore. Stupid piece of crap. How’s your bike? Did you replace the front brake lever yet?” He grabbed a sandwich and chips that I stared at enviously while we paid the cashier.
    “Yeah. It’s fine now. After I fixed it yesterday, I went for a ride. I couldn’t wait anymore. Pop got a little bent that I didn’t listen to the doctors, but I figured the full six weeks was a long enough wait.” When we got back to the table, I took a seat and grimaced at the three pudding flavors I’d get to enjoy for lunch.
    “How’d it go?”
    “Good. Great, actually. How about your bike? Did you fix the chain?” His bike chain had broken while we were riding, which caused the accident that broke my jaw. He was right to call his bike a piece of crap, but he was also gifted with an abnormal amount of bad luck. Something always ended up happening around Spaz.
    “Yeah, thanks again for ordering it for me. My mom would’ve cut my nuts off if she knew what happened.”
    “No problem. But that reminds me,” I said, thinking about his last trip to the property. “Simone said that you are never to park your truck in the main lot again. I guess the deer rack frightened a client. You’ll have to pull around my house from now on or she’ll probably cut my nuts off.”
    “Who’s going to cut your nuts off?”