A rapping on the door awoke Fletcher. He placed both palms on his hardwood floor and pushed his stiff body to a standing position. He brought his cheeks to his shoulders to c***k his neck from sleeping on the floor all night, and he didn’t have to check the clock to see it was morning already; the small rainbows on his walls from the triangular prism hanging in the window took care of that.
The rapping came again. “Fletcher? You up?”
“Yeah, Dad.” He shuffled to the door and opened it. “What’s up?”
“Slept in your clothes?”
Fletcher looked down. “I guess so. I don’t really remember.”
Arnold harrumphed. “Well, change into something fresh. You’re coming to morning mass with me.”
Fletcher ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think my heart is in—”
“This isn’t your mum suggesting I ask y
