Maybe if he put a pillow over his head. His eyes were fixed on the white drywall of his bedroom ceiling, his iPod earbuds pressed into his ears so tightly that they were beginning to hurt. He was trying to block out the sound of Layne’s father’s voice, which kept replaying in his head like it was on some kind of loop. His door opened, and Michael filled the doorway. Gabriel yanked the headphones out of his ears, but music still poured out against his comforter. “Ever hear of knocking?” He wanted his voice to be sharp, but he couldn’t generate the usual anger. He’s not worthless. And you’re out of line. “I did knock,” said Michael. “Three times.” Oh. Gabriel pushed PAUSE on the iPod and looked back at the ceiling. “Sorry.” He was ready for the lecture about the lightning, about lying, but Michael just stood there, keys jingling in his hand. “I still need to go to Home Depot. Want to come?” He didn’t want to. But the alternative was sitting alone in his bedroom, feeling lightning in the air.
