My Favorite Everything

Chapter Four

As the sunlight beamed through the slits of Frankie's blinds, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, groaning as he reached for his glasses. Sitting up, he checked his phone, contemplating whether his education was truly that important. He sighed, rising from his bed as he proceeded to walk towards the bathroom. Turning on the shower faucet, Frankie silently prayed that the day would go by quickly. He couldn't contain his excitement for the weekend- he had planned to do absolutely nothing. Frankie's anxiety was nearly diminished every time he felt like he was fully in charge of himself. He rarely drank or did anything that would cause him to let go of that control, so when he heard of Tammy Calvin's party, it was far too easy to pass on.

The time he spent at Crossley High passed uneventfully for him, except for a few lingering images of the drugs he now knew Wilder was taking. Other than that, Frankie's hopes were fulfilled and he was released by the bell, escaping without having to suffer through another school day.

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After class, Wilder approached his own home without expectations. His parents were absent in the morning, but the front door had somehow been locked after Wilder had left. He knocked on the door, scratching the back of his head with confusion. A twenty-something-year-old blonde woman opened it and smiled her perfect teeth down at him. Stepping closer towards the boy, her blue eyes traveled up his athletic figure.

    "Hi cutie, is there something you need?"

Upon realizing that it was just another temporary woman his father had brought home for the night, Wilder shoved past her. "Um, I live here. You don't," he said, stepping into his house and searching for any presence of his father. Just then, a powerful, brooding man stepped out from behind the kitchen. He shared the same dark hair and skin tone as his son. Wilder glared at him. "Could you maybe pretend like you aren't sleeping with other people that are only a couple of years older than me?" he bitterly remarked.

His father's gaze did not falter as he motioned for the woman to come towards him. "Son, I would appreciate it if you could pretend to be polite." He paused. "Introduce yourself."

Wilder looked at him incredulously as he dropped his backpack on the wooden floor. He turned towards the ditzy blonde, holding out his hand. "Pleasure," he said, shooting a look at his father. With that, he quickly made his way upstairs and into his room, abruptly slamming the door shut before his father could do something about it. Throwing himself onto his bed, he stared at the ceiling and pushed his hair back out of his face. It was only four o'clock, yet Wilder already felt swallowed whole by the amount of time there was in between then and the party. He desperately searched for a way to keep himself busy.

    Deciding to roll out of bed and walk over towards his desk, he remembered the Xanax bottle he had stashed in his left drawer. Yanking it open to reveal his favorite pastime, Wilder's fingers found their way to its cap. He gently traced its circumference, until something within him shouted that his actions must be urgent. Pulling the bottle out, he swiftly turned the top of it until it clicked off. Shaking out two pills, he set them into his mouth and took a sip out of a leftover water bottle that rested nearby. Only two, he thought. It's barely going to do anything.

About forty-five minutes later, Wilder was absentmindedly swiping through his phone. His vision had blurred in and out a few more times than he'd care to admit. Yawning, he decided to call Rory. She picked up on the third ring. "Hey, what's up?" she asked, as Wilder struggled to remember why he had called in the first place.

    "Oh. Uh, I don't exactly know the answer to that question. Are we still... going tonight?"

    The sound of a failed attempt to repress a giggle escaped from the speakers. "Oh, Jesus, Wiley. What are you on?"