Yonderly (NOT YET UPDATED)

- The Argument -

The first 2 months have gone by in a blur. I only really like two classes, Art and Social Studies.

Science - C
Math - C-
English - A
Gym - B
Art - A
Social Studies - A
Music - B+

I wish I didn't have to show my mother. "You won't get anywhere in life with these grades!" Again with the yelling. "I know-" "So why aren't you doing anything?" If she keeps this up I'm going to cry. "You don't do anything! The most you've done is cook dinner now and then, but you can barely even do that." No. Don't. If she just didn't yell at me we wouldn't have a problem. I manuver myself around her and run up the stairs to my room. "Come back here, you brat," I can hear her from down the stairs. Hurry. I lock the door, and tuck my chair under the handle just in case. I open my window, grab my house key and lighter, and go onto the bump-out roof. You never know when your own mother will lock you out of your house. "I can't deal with her." I go to rub my eyes, but find them overflowing with tears. Wimp. I hear a bang on my door, which is when I decide to put my earbuds in and leave.

I run for a little bit, making sure my mother isn't looking out the windows. I start to slow down once I can't see my house in the distance. It's never been this bad, only once have I had to leave. You should have stayed and pay for the consequences. I can't anymore.

I stay out for the next 7 hours. I can't bear to be in that house with her. Some people think it's weird, but I find igniting my lighter fun. It makes a nice sound. It's calming, in a way. Flick. I walk around for a while, then stop at the store to get a Diet Coke. I decide to go sit outside for a while. Flick. I hear someone swear, and out from under my hair I see Robbie fumbling with a lighter. "You need help?" I call out. He jumps, but starts to walk over. "Uh, nah but what are you doing out this late?" He's odd. Cute, yea, but odd. "Just... Attempting to escape reality." I shrug, revealing my Coke and lighter. He chuckles, his eyes misty and luminous. "Yeah, I get that. You know, I think I can help with that." "Oh?" "Come on." He gets up and holds out his hand. I take it.

We end up walking in silence for a few minutes, hands unclasped, until he breaks it. "So, diet coke?" He's alright. "Yeah, what about it?" I say jokingly, flashing him a slight smirk. "I see you with one a lot. What's the deal with it anyways?" Lie. "I don't know, I just think it tastes better than regular." Good, now divert the conversation. "Where are we going, anyway?" He never actually told me. "My house." I give him a curious look. "Don't worry about it. You said you were looking for a reality escape? I got you."

Robbie unlocks the door. No one seems to be home. In fact, the house looks barely lived in. "My dad's a truck driver, barely home, barely pays the bills, but hey, it's fine!" He seems to panic for a second, but appears calm once he turns around and starts walking into the house. "Here, my room's down here." "The basement?" "Yup." He brings me downstairs. The first thing I see is an old map of the world, with writing and drawings all over it. The stairs squeak as we walk down them. "Oh damn, this is sweet," the room has plants and candles scattered everywhere, the walls covered in old band posters and records. A few skateboards line the wall next to his bed. "Wait you have a record player? Literal room goals." I laugh. He looks at me, admiringly. "So, uh... What type of music do you like," he was going to say something else. "Chevelle, Deftones, Radiohead?" I follow him with my eyes, while he walks over to his bed. There's a skateboard, trucks missing, on it. I assume he was fixing it. He takes the board and detached trucks and rests them on a chair. "Hmm... Deftones," I say, beaming like a little girl. "Good choice. I've smoked to Deftones before and it was actually indescribable." Ah, I see. An escape from reality. He puts the record on, volume not too high nor too low.

He takes a blunt off of a tray on his desk, and fumbles with his lighter. "You need help?" I ask, grinning. He laughs, defeated, "Yeah, thanks." I try to flick it on, and it sputters. He puts the record on the player. "I think it might be out of fluid. You'll have to get a new one, you can't refill these ones. I can use mine, though." Robbie makes his way over to the floor next to me. I reach into my sweatshirt pocket and pull out my lighter. "Ooh, a Zippo? Classic," I look up at him, smiling. "You know your stuff, don't you, Robbie?" I flick open the lighter and ignite it the first time. I look up at Robbie, who's not only holding it but also looking at me in amazement. "Heads up, folks, we got ourselves a frequent flier!" We both start laughing. He lights it. My smile fades as I get a text from Caleb, and then Lincoln. They don't like you; they're just trying to use you. "Hey, what's up?" Robbie is the type of friend to always worry about you, even if nothing truly is wrong. Friend? I smile softly, trying to calm his concerns, "Nothing, don't worry about it." You can be more convincing than that. I leave the group chat. 7 missed calls from my mother. I turn my phone off. Eh, maybe not. We lay down, laughing, talking, listening to music. I get to forget about home and my mother for a few hours.

It's around 11 pm now, and we're both lying on the floor of Robbie's basement surrounded by smoke, eyes red. He stands up and takes the record off the player, which by now was playing Chevelle's Wonder What's Next album. "It's been forever since we've actually talked," he says. I sit up, knowing if I try to stand up immediately I'll likely pass out. "Yea, I guess it has." He wanders over to a small stool next to his bed and picks up a box of cigarettes. "These are for you," he says as he walks back over and hands me the box. "I can always get more," he says with a smile, "And since I can't always get the special ones, I figured these might help." I look into his eyes, now much closer than they were before, but just as sapphire as always. "Thank you," I say, unsure of what else to say. He holds out his hand, and I take it and stand. We stay like that for a moment, looking into each other's eyes like lovestruck Disney characters. "Do you want to get out of here?" He says, with a sweet, somewhat mischievous grin. "Sure."
(not finished)