Scowling, Danny picked up a small rock and chucked it. Thump, fwoosh, splash! Startled by it shooting through the bush, a rabbit bolted. And, just like that, Arly tore off. Finally. The dog had been attached and stuck to Danny's side, leaning on him and persistent.
Angry and sullen, Danny ripped at the loose grass near him and shoved the heels of his shoes into the moist ground.
He couldn't stand to be in the Kauffman house. Not now. But this was only so much better.
All the parental support and cheer, the sibling bickering and trying to get him on a side...
No.
He couldn't be in there.
Danny burrowed a hand into dirt and tightened, the wet earth and grass squeezing through fingers. His other hand pressed at his chest, fingers clawing at chest and cloth as he bent over. Hunched in on himself.
Hand filled with dirt lifted, punching down at the ground next to where he sat.
"Hey! Danny, right? You doing alright down there?"
He shot up, head up and twisting around, finding a man in a large red truck waving at him from way up on the road.
Arly came darting back, sprinting by Danny and up the ditch to bark once, tail wagging in greeting.
"Hey Arly." The man's face turned away to reach across to the passenger side, then tossed something out the window. Arly jumped, catching it in his mouth, tail still wagging. Then remained by the driver door, appearing hopeful for more treats.
Danny stood, swiping his hand off on his black sweat pants. Squinted up. The man had on a dusty plaid shirt, had a tanned face with wrinkles yet no gray hair, a smudge of grease by a temple. And seemed vaguely familiar, particularly in the shape of his jaw and nose.
"Who are you?"
"Oh. Sorry. I'm Rodger. One of Dale's older brothers. I live down the road a ways." A hand came up and out the rolled down window, gesturing behind. "The house right on the corner."
Not sure how to respond, Danny simply stood, forcing down anything that might come out.
Of course this guy was family. Of course he was a Kauffman. Of course he knew Danny's name. Of course he asked how Danny was doing. Because everyone seemed to know everyone and everything around here.
"Just wanted to make sure you were doing alright down there."
Anger pressured and bubbled up in Danny's chest, tight and awful and painful and wanting out, needing something to pummel, thrumming outwards to fill up his limbs.
Or someone. An opponent. Enemy to take out his aggression. Shift the pain, the hurt, the...
He jammed his hands behind him.
"Fine!" He called out.
And waited, everything inside building, waiting for the truck to disappear down the dusty road.
Then whipped around, slamming a green fist into a tree.
Shaking, Danny slowly forced himself to pull his hand away, staring at the trunk. Where a hole was now. Splinters sharp and jagged. He noticed, but he didn't feel them, not past all the thrumming inside him.
He pressed the hand to his chest, holding it there, the slight pressure on the spot making him feel a bit more stable.
He breathed. Deep and slow. In and out.
He was fine, he was fine, he was fine.
At some point in his mantra, Arly pressed himself back against Danny, remaining leg close the rest of the time at the creek and Danny's eventual return back. Back to the Kauffman house. Where he closed himself off in his room and threw all his attention to his weekend homework.
...oh my god, sad Danny is really coming through lately in pounding out whatever. Duuuuude. Danny. My poor child.