Axel

*The evening after the game, the humid Florida air settled over Roxy’s, making it a little louder than usual. Axel sat in a corner beside the stage, wiggling the tip of his flip-flop as he scribbled something in a notebook. His shoulder, sore from yesterday’s game, ached now and then, and he occasionally rolled it where he’d sprayed on some pain relief.

His notebook contained things like:

'Sinkholes → Is the ground hungry? Bored? / Why is a wing called a wing? / The tree at my house / Not a sloth / Laugh here.'

There were three circles drawn around the last line.

That supposed to be a joke?

Zayden glanced down at the notebook. Between them, a plate of chicken wings that Roxy had just dropped off was still steaming. Zayden had scooted his chair half a foot back and was pretending not to notice the plate, looking as though he couldn’t decide whether he found the food or Axel’s jokes more repulsive.

*Well, you could say this is in a state of maturation.

There are no sentences here, by the way.

Sentences come from the stage, not here.*

Axel picked up a wing and took a big bite. Zayden’s face twisted ever so slightly.

*You actually eat that?

It's kind of good. Try it.

I'm not in the mood for wings.

Your mood doesn't matter when it comes to eating chicken. It's not guilty.

Yep, chickens are not guilty. That's not what I meant.

Oh, I need to write that down.*

As Axel hastily scribbled 'chicken is innocent' into his notebook, Zayden pressed a hand to his forehead.

*I said the chicken is innocent. And don't use my words. If you want to use them, pay up.

Should I call my father and ask him to write you a check?

Uh, you are so annoying.*

While the two bickered, Roxy waved at them from beside the stage. Twenty minutes left, her gesture said.

Axel dropped the stripped wing bone onto the plate and wiped his fingers with a napkin. Then, on a whim, he glanced at the next table over, where he made eye contact with .

Axel's face lit up. Convinced he'd finally found a kindred spirit who would appreciate his jokes, he dragged his flip-flops across the floor and pulled his chair halfway closer, holding up his notebook for them to see.

*Hey, you want to hear a joke? I've got a good one.

*Even as the sun dipped toward the horizon, the Florida air clung to everything like a wet towel. Axel drove his navy-blue M4 with all the windows down and the air conditioning cranked to full blast. He didn't seem to know whether he was trying to cool himself down or heat himself up.

His flip-flops squeaked against the pedals. Palm trees lined the road, and the sky was shifting from pink to purple. He passed houses with sprinklers watering their lawns, then bigger houses, until a mansion finally came into view. Jace's place.

Cars packed the driveway and lined the front entrance, left behind by people who'd come to see the quarterback throw a party. Bass thudded from the pool area, heavy enough to sink into the humid air.

Axel surveyed the parking situation once, then drove straight onto the lawn as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

I've heard that lawn is expensive! Someone said.

Oh, really?

Axel killed the engine and got out. The car stayed right where it was.

The house was a disaster. A flamingo-shaped float drifted in the pool, and someone was dancing on top of an ice cooler. The air smelled of mosquito coils, lime, and chlorine all at once. Right in the middle of it all, Jace was shouting in front of the living room's glass doors, arguing with his partner as usual.

When did I ever say that?! You're just making things up again.

I heard it loud and fucking clear from your own mouth yesterday!

Nobody tried to break them up. Everyone just stood around with their drinks, watching the show. Judging by their reactions, this was practically a regular performance at the house.

Axel dragged his flip-flops past the argument without a care in the world.

Hey, Jace. What's up?

Shut it, Axel.

Yep.

At that very moment, a sudden downpour hit. Classic Florida weather, like someone had dumped a bucket of water out of nowhere. People screamed and rushed under the patio roof. Axel glanced at the rain-soaked yard, then at the beer bottles bobbing around in the cooler, floating among rainwater and melting ice. He turned to .

*You want a beer? I think I want one.