Scream: A Drake & Josh Story

The Invitation

"You sure you're up for this?" Josh asked for the hundredth time that morning. It was getting a little annoying honestly.

"Yes, Josh. If I didn't feel like going to school, I would tell you." He couldn't keep the irritation from his voice. Usually, Drake would use any excuse he could to get out of going to school, but he felt safer there. At least this way, he'll be surrounded by other people. His dad wouldn't dare approach him with so many witnesses.

"How's your leg?"

"I'm fine."

He turned towards the window, watching as the other cars drove past. No wonder his stepbrother likes to leave for school so early. He drives slow as hell. Drake wasn't really in a rush, but he wasn't in the mood to discuss what had happened last night, so he was ready for this car ride to be over.

"That's good," Josh said.

He was quiet then, although he clearly had more to say. Drake didn't push because it was most likely something he didn't want to think about right now. He could tell that there had been a silent question on Josh's lips all morning — that his brother had been trying to figure out how to casually throw it into whatever conversation they were having, but Josh could never quite get the pieces to fit together.

"Have you been taking you medicine?" He tried to say this with nonchalance, but it came out awkward.

"Wow, very subtle transition."

Josh rolled his eyes. "Well, have you?"

There was a silence then, which was enough of an answer on its own, but Drake finally broke it, these words providing even more confirmation. "That's not your fucking business."

"I just don't understand why you don't wanna take them."

"Because I don't need them," his stepbrother said.

"The doctor prescribed them for a reason—"

"Look at me," Drake said, turning to him. "Do I look like I need to be on antipsychotics?"

Josh could only give him a quick glance, for he had to keep his eyes on the road, but the expression he saw wasn't what he expected, and it didn't match the voice. Drake spoke with frustration, but his features were softer, as if searching for validation. He didn't seem so sure about his choice to stop the pills.

"They said the antipsychotic was just to aid the antidepressant so that it works better."

This wasn't the response Drake was hoping for. "I'm not fucking depressed." He straightened in his seat.

"Drake..."

"Look, I don't wanna talk about this, okay?"

To make sure Josh got this message, he turned on the radio. Usually, he would scan until he found a song he liked, but he froze when he heard the words that were coming through the speakers.

"—Winston Parker, who escaped from San Quentin State Prison on Saturday. Parker has been awaiting trial after the vicious slaying of ex-wife Audrey Nichols. He was last seen in the Novato area, likely heading north. Police are asking for any information—"

With the sudden silence, Drake looked over at his stepbrother, who had turned off the radio. He didn't protest. It was probably for the best. "Why are they saying his last known location is Novato? He literally fucking attacked me."

"They just don't have enough proof to confidently say that publicly yet."

"What further proof do they need? It was him. You believe me, right?"

He hesitated, trying to figure out how to best say his answer. "I believe that you believe—"

Drake shook his head and turned toward the window again, then moodily rested his temple on his fist.