Free Styrofoam Throne by David Bone Page B

sunscreen on today? You look like a lobster.”
    I went to check my reflection in the mirror. My pale skin had turned bright red and I suddenly began to feel my face throb. I was supposed to be inside the Castle and hadn’t thought of sunscreen the whole day. I’d gotten too occupied with embarrassment and pizza guitar techniques.
    “I’ve never been this sunburned in my life! What am I gonna do tomorrow?”
    “Wear sunscreen I hope, ha!”
    “Seriously, Tony.”
    “I don’t know, but this pizza sure as shit doesn’t sell itself.”

    The next morning, I passed the screams coming from the Castle and shuffled in sunburned pain down the pier to Castle Pizza.
    Tony erupted in laughter when he saw me.
    “Holy shit, kid! You look like a cartoon character that got angry.”
    “Yeah, maybe I should do something else today?”
    “Nah. I’ll set up the picnic parasol and you’ll be good.”
    “I don’t know if I can move a lot.”
    “Oh, don’t worry about that, it’s attention we want and that face is gonna get it.”
    I stood in place, hardly opening my mouth as people repeatedly came by to make comments.
    I spotted Todd, one of the jock assholes from high school, and then he saw me. I clutched my cardboard guitar and looked away.
    “Hot ’n Ready,” I muttered.
    Just then, Todd clipped me with his shoulder.  
    “What the fuck!” he said, acting like it was my fault. “Hey, guys, check it out. The Prince of Dorkness.”
    “Yeah! Look at that fucking dork!” said another jock as Todd pushed me into the sun.
    “Ow!”
    “Holy shit, you are fucking burned,” Todd said, grabbing my arm. “That feel good?”
    I collapsed under the grip.
    “You guys, come on. I’m working.”
    “A fucking pizza guitar?” Todd said while giving it a punch.
    “Come on, guys. Please.”
    Tony interrupted the scene.
    “Donovan, stop socializing and sell some fucking pizza.” Tony’s attention went back to filling orders.  
    “Just leave me alone, seriously.”
    “Or what?”
    “Yeah! Or what?” the other jock said.
    “Hot ’n Ready! Hot ’n Ready!!” It seemed like a good defense in the moment. This time, I hoped drawing attention to myself would keep me out of trouble.
    “This fuckin’ guy. You gave my girlfriend nightmares for weeks with that shit you pulled at the talent show.”
    I couldn’t help but smile.
    “You think that’s funny?”
    “Uh . . .”
    Tony butted in. “Donovan, if I have to tell you one more time!”
    “Hotnreadyhotnreadyhotnready!” Why didn’t Tony know this was code for “Help!”?
    I scurried out from the shade, away from the jocks and into the sun. It burned and made me think of Dracula’s famous sensitivity to daylight.
    “Where do you think you’re going?”
    “Dude, seriously. I’m fucking working.” Maybe a little bark back would get me out of this. It didn’t.
    “Oh, that’s it. Boys, let’s show him how to surf.”
    I might have been taller, but these guys’ low gravity was dangerous for my stilt-like legs.
    The jocks all grabbed me and tossed me off the pier while passersby just laughed. Whose side should they have been on? The letterman jackets, or the sunburned freak, playing a cardboard pizza guitar? Tony was too busy to cast a vote.
    The jocks looked down on me as I plummeted. They high-fived and yelled, “Shoot the pier, bro! Hahahaha!”
    I hit the water with the pizza guitar still in hand. I thought my skin was going to melt off from the pain of the water contact. If it had been low tide, I would have broken my neck. Instead, I was swept among the barnacle-covered pillars holding up the pier. Above me, clusters of sleeping bats covered the bottom of the pier.
    The waves continued to push me against the pillars. One finally got me good across my arm when I braced myself for the blow. The only thing more painful than an extreme sunburn was a gash across it with saltwater pouring in.
    After what seemed like eternity in tumult lost at sea, I crawled