Smile of a King

Monday, September

3:39 PM

As Bret rolled down the window of the old and decrepit Toyota, he felt a reoccurring twinge of guilt in his chest. Ahead cars stood at a still, and behind, more cars. Even hell couldn't have traffic as bad as this.

Exhilarating rock-and-roll tunes wafted from the radio, the lead singer's voice never losing a grain of energy. Bret tapped his foot to the beat of the music, careful not to hit the gas. That was an event he didn't want to experience again.

He glanced out of the window with a lazy blue eye. Another car crawled past in the slowly moving lane. The driver, an elderly woman, looked at the source of the hard rock and scowled before moving out of sight. Bret grinned. Old-timer's easy rock quietly rolled out from her radio.

With a sigh, Bret rested his arm against the door of the car, running a rough finger along the contrarily smooth surface of the vehicle. It was hot under the July sun, like everything else in the slowly burning city of Toronto. His pen-pal in California, America, had asked if there was still snow on the ground. He had replied with a groan.

Bret had plenty of pen-pals; a girl in Korea, who he had met in the fifth grade when her teacher traveled overseas to talk at their school; a boy in England, who had introduced Bret to many musical artists; another girl in California who was as distantly related to him as possible. In a way, he preferred talking to them than the others at school. Maybe that's why he was a bit of a loner.

He knew how the others in his classes saw him – tall seventeen year old, skinny, with straight black hair covering eyes and the bridge of his long nose. A rebel. An average teen with a ninety average in music and art, and a sixty-five in everything else. He cared more for his guitar than any girl who stared at him from across the classroom.

The jolt in his chest came again- guilt. Bret pressed hard on the horn- which gave a sort of dysfunctional, mumbled groan- and leaned out the window. He could finally see what had caused the traffic.

A group of people in black robes had erected a roadblock further down the street. They seemed to be taking a survey as the cars drove by, letting people pass once their questions were satisfied. Pretty God damn stupid, Bret thought, as other cars began to add their own screams and honks of protest. But they robed men didn't seem to take notice.

Bret glanced at the clock. 3:45. Man, she's gunna be pissed…

Jessie wasn't surprised. She gently dropped her Lion King backpack and sat beside in on the curb on the side of the road. Her mom would be upset if she got dirt on the new blue dress grandmother had bought her… but it could always be washed.

She looked down at the folds of the dress over her lap. It was the colour of the sky with thin black outlines of elegant flowers here and there. It was the colour that made it so special; it complimented her blue eyes so perfectly, they seemed to glow like magic.

Footsteps made her look up, bright blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. A boy, also in grade two waved, jogging over, a bright smile on his young face. He insisted on sitting beside Jessie in every class. She didn't mind. She thought Charlie was very cute. And sweet, she thought after a moment, he makes me smile even when I don't feel like it.

Charlie stopped beside her, a little red showing in his cheeks. He huffed, and then plopped down beside her. After catching his breath, the smile he always wore came back. It made Jessie smile too.

"Do you want a drive home?" he asked. "My mom can take you. School ended twenty-five minutes ago."

"I know," Jessie replied, eyes glimmering. "What are you doing here then?"

"I was helping Miss Stiles clean the putty off of the ceiling," Charlie said proudly, pushing his chest out heroically. The act made Jessie giggle.

"You mean for detention?"

"…If you put it that way… yes."

"I told you not to pass notes."

"But- but…" Charlie fumbled for an excuse but found none. He frowned for a moment, but couldn't keep the expression when the corners of his lips tugged upwards again. "So, do you want a ride home?"

"No thank you. I'm waiting for my brother." Jessie brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"Oh. He's picking you up today." Charlie looked crestfallen.

Jessie hesitated, not knowing what to say. So, instead of saying, she leaned over and pecked Charlie on the cheek. His eyes went wide in shock, making Jessie giggle once more.

Over in the parking lot down the street, a woman appeared who looked remarkably like her son- brown hair, chocolate eyes, happy face. She waved, calling for Charlie to come. He sat frozen, basking in the moment, and then slowly turned to Jessie.

"S-see you tomorrow," he said weakly, standing. He blinked a couple times, and then ran across the grass to his mother. Halfway he leapt into the air, punched upwards with a fist, and shouted in delight. Jessie took on the same expression as him, perfectly content with waiting for her brother.

She had to plan out what to wear for tomorrow.

"So fucking great," Bret mumbled, turning down another street. The clock glared at him in an angry red, 3:58. Jessie's public school rose up ahead, and on the curb sat a small, wide-eyed girl with hair like beams of sunlight. He stopped the car right beside her. She stood, picked her Lion King bag up off the ground, and climbed in the passenger's seat. In seconds Bret pulled away again, speeding down the empty streets.

"Sorry I took so long."

"That's okay. That's better than okay." Jessie leaned as far forward as her seatbelt would allow and pressed on a button a few times. The song blaring stopped short and was replaced by a faster, more obnoxious tune. Bret smiled faintly at her choice. It was both of their favourite song.

He looked over at his sister. Ten years younger. All he could remember about that age was the sandbox in their backyard. That, however, had been replaced years ago by a patio that nobody used.

The cheerful smile on her lips and red in her cheeks made Bret wonder. "What's up? You look happy."

Jessie looked over at her brother. "You don't."

He grunted and turned back to the road.

"…Again?"

That simple question was aggravating enough. Bret turned the Toyota. They'd be home soon- but not soon enough to escape the steady gaze of his sister. He nodded shortly.

Jessie said nothing, and then flopped back against her seat. For a minute, a guitar solo filled the uncomfortable silence between them. Then she looked out the window, muttering a response that was barely audible.

"You should just tell them no, Bret."

A dark scowl crept to Bret's face, his hands clenching tighter against the leather steering wheel. "That doesn't always work when you get older, Jessie," he bit back.

"Yes it does, just stand up for yourself with words, not violence."

"You wouldn't know!" Bret snapped. "Older people don't resolve things with the word 'sorry' as easily as you kids do."

"But you can, you just tell them you don't want-!"

"That doesn't work, Jessie!"

The song had long ended without notice and a chilling silence pervaded the car. After a minute they pulled into the driveway of a stone two-story house. Jessie hopped out the second the car stopped, walked briskly up the walkway in a huff, and slammed the front door shut after her.

Bret waited until she was gone before punching the steering wheel in frustration. A twinge of regret passed through his chest this time. He gritted his teeth, sat still an instant, then grabbed the deserting Lion King bag from the passenger seat and followed his sister inside. From the backpack, the lion cub Simba stared up at Bret, his lifeless eyes smiling.