Sal woke to the sound of someone knocking on the window. He must've dozed off. When he looked up, he saw Carl pressing his face against the glass, his nose pointed upward so Sal could stare right up his nostrils. He rolled down the window. “Hey," he said, "what’s up?”
“My panties and they're staying that way.” Carl swayed as he laughed. The harsh scent of vodka oozed from him.
“Are you drunk?” How the hell could Carl be drunk already? Sal had only been gone an hour.
“Yes. I drink in silence, hoping the answer lies at the bottom of the glass and then at the bottom of the bottle.”
“Where are Rosie and Jack? Weren’t you supposed to eat together?” Sal searched around for his phone.
“Looking for this?” Carl held up his phone, dangling it between two fingers.
“You dropped it when you dropped us off. You really need to be more careful. Drop it, drop us.” Carl laughed like he was playing the role of some clown. It was creepy.
Sal was at a loss. “How the hell did you get so drunk that fast?” He pushed the car door open nearly knocking Carl over and got out of the bus.
“I ditched them, and then I went for a drink. It’s amazing what people will do for you when you're Sal Williams’ brother.”
“Okay, Carl, I need the phone. I have to call Jack and Rosie and let them know you're here. They're probably looking for you.”
“You've always been such a fucking star. Lord knows you've had your fair share of star-fuckers.”
“Carl, please.” Sal desperately tried to grab the phone, but Carl shoved it down his pants.
“How does it feel, Mr. Popular, when someone’s pants are off-limits to you? Mr. Perfect—getting everything right, never getting into trouble…”
Sal felt the tears press behind his eyelids. What the hell had happened to Carl? He didn’t recognize him anymore.
“Then someone finally sees you for what you are—a fucking whore—and leaves you behind crying like a little baby.”
“Leave Seth out of this.” Sal felt anger building up inside of him.
“Or what, Sal? I’m really curious to know what you’ll do. Am I going to regret it? Ted certainly did.”
Sal suppressed his anger. He had to, or it would force him to say or do things he didn't mean. The alcohol seemed to have opened up every single hatch inside of Carl, and all of his anger and frustration flooded out.
“This isn’t funny, Carl.” Sal tried to plead with him. “Give me the phone,” but it only seemed to add fuel to Carl’s wrath.
“Does it look like I’m joking?” Carl snarled. “You always had it so fucking easy.” He glared at Sal with hatred in his eyes. Now he wasn’t just angry—he was about to get nasty.
“We’re not even brothers, you and me. My parents simply stole you from some low-life. I think Charlie burned down that house on purpose—he hated you that much—but you just keep on coming back like some unwanted germ.” Carl waited for Sal’s reaction, but Sal didn’t move.
When Carl couldn’t detect a reaction, he went in for the kill. "How ironic it is that you finally fall in love, and you get ditched like an old rag doll. Do you know what I think? I think Seth's found someone new, and when they’re done laughing at you, they fuck.
"My God, do you think they suck each other? You never got that far, did you?”
Sal stood with his hands hanging limply over his knees. His eyes were red and staring straight in front of him as the insults rained down. This wasn’t Carl anymore, but some a stranger he didn’t know.
The slap was loud, and it stung his face. “Love fucking hurts, doesn’t it, Sal.”
They were starting to become the center of attention, now. People gathered around them outside of The Diner to see what was going on.
“Come on—get angry, you big pussy,” Carl screamed.
Sal didn’t let out so much as a gasp of pain. “I won’t take any pleasure in taking you down,” he said quietly.
Carl clenched his fists. The first punch connected with Sal’s jaw. He drew his fist back again, and it plowed into Sal’s stomach, forcing him to double over.
Sal just took the punches as they flew, he didn’t even attempt to block them. He only moved his head a little to avoid the straight ones. His shield which protected him was off.
“Fight back, you whore.” Carl continued his battering until he'd collapsed on the ground.
Sal heard a voice speaking to him from far away. “Sal, can you hear me? Are you all right?” He looked up to stare into Rosie's face. She helped him to his feet.
“What the hell happened here? And why are all these people just standing around?” Jack’s voice echoed from somewhere.
“It’s called the bystander effect. It’s a phenomenon in which individuals are less likely to offer help to a victim when other people are present. Or maybe people here are just plain stupid,” Rosie spat.
Jack pulled Carl to a standing position. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Williams?”
Carl looked like he was going to say something, but instead, he doubled over and vomited. It splashed on the pavement, spraying his jeans.
Sal looked in the bus’s side mirror. His lip was swollen, and he had a bloody nose, but other than that, he was fine.
Carl was a different story. He looked pale. All of the blood had drained from his face and a cream-colored liquid spilled from his mouth. He bit down on his lip, trying not to burst into tears. The smell of vomit coming from him was unbearable.
“Sal, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” Carl started to sob.
“Now, what?” Jack shrieked.
“Just get him the fuck out of here before the cops turn up.” Sal tossed Jack the keys to the bus.
“What about you?” Rosie yelled back.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I just can’t look at him right now.”
Rosie and Jack each grabbed one of Carl's arms and pushed him inside the bus.
“Sal, I’m sorry.” Carl pounded his hands against the windows as the bus backed away from The Diner. “I didn’t mean it.”
Sal watched the bus drive away, and the hurt cut right through him. His brain found it hard to grasp the situation.
His best friend had just attacked him.
People still hung around, looking at him like he was prize cattle, and the sudden urge to beat the shit out of something came over him. Instead of giving in to the urge, he started to run. His legs were heavy, and there was a rising feeling of nausea in his stomach. Tears began to blind him. Sweat collected on the front of his t-shirt, and his heart beat frantically as he ran to the only place he could think of that would provide him with comfort: the treehouse.
The place where he and Carl had, time and again, watched the world crumble only to save it. There, they had saved each other from monsters, hidden from their parents, and shared the troubles of the world.
Once he'd stopped running, the perspiration lay cool on his skin, and he began to shiver. The grief came in waves, threatening to consume him entirely.
All he could think about was how his phone was still in Carl’s pants.