Nike is a nerd, and a jerk. A jerk that says, does, whatever is the most harmful for a reaction.
Tristan is a player. One that makes up stories along the way with every lover of his, and with multiple people at that.
The two have hated each other s...
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Breathe in.
Breathe out.
"What are you doing here?" a voice says, I look up from my hands and onto mom's face, "nothing," I say.
She walks over and sits down on the stairs.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
"Nothing," I say, putting my head on my thigh.
She sighs; I flinch. Her hand rests on my shoulder.
"Well, if it was nothing you wouldn't be here being so anxious." She smiles, her hand touching my scalp gently.
"I–nothing."
Mom looks down, "you really don't want me to know?" she says. I nod.
"So uh, what are you doing here?"
"Nothing."
"Well, let's go home then."
"I'm nearly sixteen!"
"Yeah really, sure as hell don't feel like it."
I inhale.
"I'm not going home," I whisper, mom looks at me.
"Why not?"
"Because I have a date!"
"Can you believe it? I can't!"
"A date? Yes, a date!"
"Time is really moving, isn't..."
Yeah, time is really moving... And I'm not feeling any big emotions when it comes to these special things...
My eighth-grade graduation didn't feel like I was going to explode with excitement or dread for the future, the last one maybe because I always do, especially in those kinds of times–what a big lie.
I wasn't having any big emotions or any at all really... Numbness, and dread for the future are the only exceptions really, and I'm not even exactly sure about them either, they weren't large enough.
And excitement, especially excitement—no I only feel excitement when I'm not supposed to, like at 2 AM—well not anymore though, all I feel at 2 these days is repressed angry and numbness, that wants to take over desperately, real desperately that if I don't let it be free, I'll fall.
"Because–because I got something to do!" I mumble, "what?"
"A date!"
"Nothing."
A shining black car stops, "I got to go," I say.
"Got to go where?" mom says, stepping up.
Sigh, "to the arcade with someone."
"The arcade, which one and with who?" she asks, "Skyside D Arcade with my friends."
"Be back quick."
"I'll be back in an hour," I say waving to her, "you have your phone and pepper spray?"
