Remember

Its working

MATTHEW DAVIS
——

It's currently 4am, and instead of sleeping like a sane person would, I'm smoking a joint out of the window of my room.

And maybe I'm doing some thinking as well.

I got a text from a blocked number, saying that at 12:30pm tomorrow a car will pick me up from my house and take me to the Connecticut headquarters of the FBI. Total bullshit right? But then V said she got the same text and turns out the number was Ethan's.
Yay.

I figure, James and Allie will be there along with me and V, but if I'm being honest, I really don't wanna see them. Normally I'd ditch except it's the FBI and I'm not a total asshat.

I put out my cigarette against the bottom of the ledge before flicking it out onto the roof. I shut my window and wrap myself with my duvet, and I stare at the roof, contemplating any ways out of this.

I can't think of any.

I sigh and then, bliss. I fall asleep feeling light and relaxed, like the past 5 months haven't happened.
I feel normal.
—
I wake up to the sun brightly shining out my window, still groggy from the after affect of my decisions last night, I reach for my phone and check the time.
It's 12pm. Shit.

I practically jump out of bed and run to the the bathroom.

After 8 minutes of showering, and 8.5 seconds of shoving on my clothes, (yes I counted) I ran to my kitchen and shoved a slice of bread in the toaster.

"Morning Honey!" My mom's heels click against the marble floor, as she held a coffee cup that had 'I heart me' on it.

"Morning? It's practically lunch time" my dad's voice chimed from the stool at the kitchen island while reading the newspaper. "No more waking up at 12 bullshit. Do you hear me!" He looked up at me before flipping the page. "You should be up playing basketball, working hard to keep your scholarship!"

"yeah about that" I started, but hesitated.

"What is it, Matthew." My mom urges.

"I-"

"Spit it out already, son" my dad yells

"I quit college." I blurt.

Their faces drop, and for the first time, my dad looked caught off guard.

"That's not something to joke about, honey." My mom puts her mug down of the island and walks over to me.

"I'm not joking."

"Like hell you are!" My dad yelled and threw his newspaper on the table.

"Matthew," mom takes my hands in hers and looks me in my eyes. "We know the past few months have been hard but-"

"Hard?! My best friend died! So yeah it's safe to say it's been 'hard'!" I scream.

"Matthew! You don't scream at your mother like that!" Dad gets up from his stool and walks over to me too.

"We let you get away with too much when you were younger! He points his finger in my face, to make me feel inferior.