powerless

A Game of Sticks

"So?" my mother trails off expectantly as she shuts the door.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask.

"How was she? What did you guys talk about?" She asks eagerly.

"Nothing special. We talked about family and school and that's it," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Don't you get tone with me mister," she wags her finger in my face teasingly.

"Sorry your highness," I bow mockingly, then turn to leave. I climb the stairs quickly. After closing the door, I quickly rush over to my bedside table to swallow a handful of painkillers without water, again. Pulling open my side table's drawer, I grab my phone and replace the painkillers in their usual spot out of sight. I put them where I should've put them this morning, where she wouldn't have found them. I flop onto my bed with a sigh. i pulled up my calendar. there is nothing on the calendar. I knew I should carve out time to spend with shelly, to get her ready for the start of school and now there is no excuse not to.

"Mom!" I call, loud enough so she could hear me through the closed door of my room.

"Yes?" she replies.

"Could you ask Mrs. Simpson if i could have Shelly's number?" I ask

"Oh. her number, eh?" I could practically hear her eyebrows waggling. I cringe.

"Not like that mom!" I all but screech.

"Sure, son. whatever you say," she says. i hear the sound of a notification from my phone. The message is from my mother. It is shelly's contact. I click on it and make a contact for her. I begin typing out my message. Dear Shelly Simpson, no no. I'm not a theatre kid. Hello Shelly, no. It's sounds too formal. Hi, Shelly. perfect. this is Jack Daniels. you came over to my house earlier today. I am texting you because i figured we should set up a time to hang out before school. Does tomorrow at my house from ten thirty to whenever work for you? I sigh. It is certainly cringe worthy but it works. I click send and wait. And wait. And wait. After three hours I finally see the three dots I have been waiting for. the message comes up on the screen.

She says: ok.

Is that a good thing? I knew she talked cryptically in person, but this takes it to a new level. I figure this means she is coming. At least, I think so.

I wake the next morning and lazily reach for my phone. Ten fifteen. crap. During my scramble out of bed, I almost trip in my haste. I quickly wrench open my bedside drawer and snatch the little orange bottle out of its hiding spot. After choking back three or four pills, carelessly I toss the small capsule onto my bed. Once inside the bathroom, I quickly splash cold water on my face. I card through my hair, desperately attempting to tame it before Shelly arrives.

"Jack!" my mother calls in a singsong voice, "guess who's here?" and in a slightly quieter tone, "Up you go dear, first door to the left." I hear the unmistakable plodding of feet up the stairs. I take one at glance at my reflection. The stinging water did a fairly good job of making me look a little more alive. I sprint through the doorway and go to sit on my bed, but something sticks out. a little orange spec seems to taut me. conscious of the sound of the creaky floorboard ten feet away from my door being stepped upon, i throw open my bedside drawer and throw the little bottle in and slam it shut, not bothering to see if it was hidden. I rushed to the door and open it. it seems to fly open as though it were weightless. Shelly stumbles through and falls into my chest.

"I see you've fallen for me already," I say automatically. she looks up at me in shock. blushing berry red, she quickly extracts herself from my grip and begins frantically apologizing.