Noah

“Get him! Don’t let him get away!” I run after Sunday while protecting my chest. It’s hard to see in the dark, but everything is bathed in neon colors that help only a little.

“Which way did he go?” Sunday whisper-screams the question at me as we take cover and hide behind a wall, panting and searching for our adversaries.

I step out from our cover, and immediately, the contraption around my body begins to ring out and flash light. I’ve been hit—again.

“Oh, crap.” The gun in my hand falls to my side in defeat. “He got me.”

Sunday jumps out from our hiding spot and takes aim. She unloads on the group of young teenage boys we’ve been in a standoff with. Electronic noises ring out, and flashes of blue fly across the room. She takes out three of them before her own device rings out, signaling she’s been hit.

I never thought laser tag could be so fun, but as we stand here, laughing about our defeat, I can hardly deny what a great time I’ve been having. I’m glad Sunday suggested this outing.

“These brats are ours this time! Move out! Go, go, go!” There is a laugh to her playful words.

I think these boys might have a little crush because they’ve been targeting us since we stepped into the mazelike laser-tag field. We take off in opposite directions to take these little punks out. I’m like a ninja, ducking for cover and leaping through open-area zones—or at least, I’m killing it in my mind. I line the laser gun up with my nose, like they do in the movies, and poke my head around a corner where I see one of my targets. I get low and put him in my sights before I shoot, taking him out before I take off at a run to find my next victim. Sunday runs past me, and we slap hands in celebration. These boys are going down!

And, this time, that’s exactly what happens. Five against two, Sunday and I finally get our victory, and an hour later, we’re celebrating our win over cold drinks—soda for me and a beer for Sunday—and hot wings. I pull my hair off my neck and put it up high on my head so that I can dig into my meal. There is nothing worse than hair in your mouth while you’re trying to grub out, and chicken wings are messy. They’re tasty but so incredibly sloppy.

“I’m glad we did this,” I tell my laser-tag mission accomplice between bites.

“I am too, but I know Brazen told you about what I’m planning to do. I’m sorry that you and I won’t be able to get to know each other more, especially because I know you love my best friend. I also have to admit, I have ulterior motives again for asking you to hang out.”

“Lay it on me, girl.”

She wipes the wing sauce from her fingers before she gets to it. “I need you to watch out for Brazen, especially right after things go down. When I saw him with you the first time, I knew he felt something special for you. I got involved a little more than I normally would because, even though Brazen didn’t, I knew this day was coming. I knew I was leaving, and I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get in his own way with you before I left. I need to know he’ll be okay, and it makes me feel a little better that he’s loved by you. Please make sure he doesn’t go after Matt and that he doesn’t dwell on this. Matt has had control over everything for way too long. When I leave, I want this to be over—not only for me, but also for Brazen.”

Sunday wants this fresh start. I know she wants to be free from Matt, but the look on her face tells me she made this drastic decision more so for Brazen. She doesn’t want her safety constantly looming over his head. I’d tell her that Brazen would happily do it forever without complaint or resentment, but I know her mind is already made up.

“He’ll be all right, Sunday. I’ll make sure of it.” I clean the sauce from my fingers.

She nods curtly at me, and the heavy talk is over. I’ve reassured Sunday that I’ll take care of Brazen. Hopefully, that’s enough to bring her some peace, wherever it is she’s going. This situation makes me hate someone for the first time in my life, and it’s a man I’ve never even met before—Matt. He’s ruining lives just by existing.

“Come on, I’m going to murder you in a game of air hockey,” Sunday says, nodding to the game room.

“What’s air hockey?”

“Damn, Noah. What the hell did you do as a child? Air hockey was like a staple in my childhood! Let’s go, so I can make myself feel good, kicking butt against a newbie.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Sunday and I go through quarters like men go through dollar bills at a strip club. She kills me at air hockey five times. We play that dancing game with the flashing lights and a few rounds of Skee-Ball. We even take pictures in the photo booth. Funny faces. Happy faces. Kissy faces. We hit them all.

It’s a pretty damn perfect day.

In the back of my mind though, I know this day is Sunday’s way of saying good-bye.

I want to stay out late, so she doesn’t leave. Still, far too soon, Sunday is driving me home. As we stand on my porch, a wave of sadness hits me. I’m clued in to the emotion hitting Sunday, too, as she clears her throat. I give her a big hug and hold on tight. Despite the newness of our relationship, there is a pain in the pit of my stomach when I think about her leaving.

I can only imagine how Brazen feels.

“Thank you—for today and for everything I won’t get to thank you for in the future.”

“That’s what friends are for. Don’t mention it. Good-bye, Sunday.”