My Favorite Everything

Chapter Eight

"Oh God," Wilder mumbled as he dramatically rolled out of bed Thursday morning. The start of his day blew by in a flash as he rushed out the door, forgetting to sneak a couple of Xanax into his mouth before heading out of his house. Dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, Wilder shivered as the cool air whipped at his exposed skin. The closer he reached the end of the street where Frankie would normally meet him, the more anxious he became. As Frankie turned the corner, he spotted Wilder just a few yards away. Waving to him, he quickened his pace to catch up with the boy.

    "Hey," he breathed with a smile as Wilder awkwardly greeted him. Frankie adjusted his glasses nervously, glancing at him. "So, when do you wanna come to my house? We don't have practice today or tomorrow, and I'm not going to be doing much this weekend except for packing."

Wilder tried to avoid the subject of Tammy as he kept his eyes on the pavement. "Tomorrow works good, or any day after that."

Frankie looked at him, slightly puzzled. "What do you have going on today?"

Wilder bit his lip as he knew he shouldn't lie to him. He had hoped that Frankie wouldn't be so curious, but a part of him saw it coming. "Tammy's coming over," he said, anxiously awaiting Frankie's response. The freckled boy was swarmed with bitterness and annoyance as he looked at the sky.

    "Just the other week we were talking about how obnoxious she is. Since when did you want to hang out with her?" he questioned, failing to conceal the jealousy that consumed him. Wilder noticed his hostile tone and wondered whether it meant something, but he quickly shook the thought away. What is wrong with you? You know he wouldn't feel like that, he chastised himself.

Shrugging his shoulders, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I... I don't know. She's friends with Rory, that should count for something."

    Frankie rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you two will hit it off. Everyone says she gets around, after all."

Wilder's eyebrows knitted together in the offense. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he questioned. Frankie shrugged, mocking Wilder as he stayed silent. The boy continued, the heat rising to his cheeks. "We'd get along 'cause she 'gets around'? What are you trying to say?"

Frankie snapped, his hands flying in the air. "I'm not trying to say anything! Nevermind!"

After a few footsteps in silence, Wilder spoke again. "You can't call her a slut just because you don't like her. Also, it's pretty clear you're hinting that I'm the one getting around just as much as she apparently is."

    "I didn't call her that- I would never say that! Why are you even defending her? Is she already that special to you?" he practically shouted, the jealousy spewing from his mouth before he could stop himself.

Wilder stared at him in confusion that was quickly masked with a hard glare. "This isn't about her! It's about what you think I do in my free time, and who I do it with," he said, intending for the last few words to sting.

    Chuckling condescendingly, Frankie crossed his arms. "Wow, because I'm so interested in your hookups! And I wouldn't know a thing about what you do, because you don't tell me shit! What kind of best friend keeps everything from them?"

    "Oh my god, we're doing this again? It's not my fault you're so damn obsessed with me!" Wilder projected as Frankie's eyes grew wide.

    "Obsessed with you?! Screw you!" he yelled, turning down a street that would lead him to Crossley High the long way.

    "What are you doing?" Wilder asked him, practically pleading with him to stop as he felt overwhelmed with guilt.

    "Going to school. Go walk with your girlfriend," he shouted, flipping him off as he continued on his way. Wilder bit the inside of his cheek as he watched the boy frustratedly trudge on.