Member-only story
Fiction
The Invisible Life of Robert J. Crackhaur Jr.
A short story
For the second time this morning, he vomited in the wastebasket.
The sour smell filled the bedroom of the little doublewide where Robert J Crackhaur Jr. spent so many hours planning this day. Everything needed to be just right and even though he’d rehearsed it over and over again, there was a lot that could go wrong.
Robert rose from his slumped position over the wastebasket. He adjusted his glasses and looked at himself in the mirror on the back of his bedroom door. Today was the only thing on his mind for weeks now. The only thing he’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours was a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. His already slender features looked even more gaunt and pale than usual in the early morning light.
“Again,” he said to his reflection.
Turning to his bed, he picked up the binder of sheet music laying on top of his tuba case and rehearsed every note in his head. By the time the marching band played this song, all the students and teachers would be in the gym. The entire student body would be on their feet, clapping and singing from the bleachers.
“We will fight, fight, fight for the blue and the gold…”
