I wake up to the sound of Mike swearing. Nothing new there. He always burns himself trying to cook food, or drops something. And on the rare occasion, he breaks something expensive. I pull myself out of bed, praying nothing too bad happened this morning.
I don't bother to get dressed or do anything to get ready for school yet. Knowing Mike and the shit that happens with him in the morning, I'll be late anyway. At least I'm wearing a shirt. I don't like him, or anyone, seeing me shirtless.
I get to the bottom of the stairs. What is it this time? Injury? Dropped items? Broken objects? I look at the scene in the kitchen. The answer: all of the above.
Mike's trying to clean up the mess of eggs on the floor while simultaneously blowing on his burnt hand. The frying pan is on the floor next to him in two pieces. How anyone could manage to breaking a frying pan is beyond me. But if anyone could, Mike could.
I sigh. I'm too used to this by now to react any other way. Mike looks at me. He's also too used to it, so he doesn't apologize or tell me to help him. I just get on the floor and start. This has become part of the morning routine.
"Why don't you let me handle breakfast from now on," I say to him as we finish cleaning.
"Because you sleep too long. And I get hungry," Mike whines. He's such a child. Well, he's not an actual child. He's sixteen. But he acts like he's eight sometimes. I'm only a year older than him, but I feel like his parent sometimes. I kind of am. Our parents aren't around a lot. We're old enough to take care of ourselves, and they need to work. We understand.
"Whatever," I mutter, closing the garbage can lid.
I'm about to go back upstairs to get ready, but Mike stops me.
"Wait, Vic, you forgot something."
I look back at him.
"There's still some trash," he points to me. "You forgot to throw it out."
I flip him off while he laughs at his own joke, then make my way upstairs.
I don't pay too much attention to how I look. I don't really make the effort to look good. It's just school. I'm graduating this year anyway. I throw on a band t-shirt and my usual skinny jeans. I wear these everyday. They're really comfy. But they're also the only pants I own.
I put on some bracelets, covering my wrists, and slip on my converse. After I brush my teeth, I'm done.
I grab my backpack and go back downstairs. Mike's eating cereal now.
"You're going to be late," I say to him. "Go get dressed."
He groans.
"Come on Mike. School's important."
"Whatever mom," Mike gets up and climbs upstairs.
I head out the front door, not waiting for him. Mike's friends, Tony and Jaime, usually give him a ride. My friends, Kellin and Oli, give me a ride. Neither one of us can afford a car, and we hate taking the bus, so it's a good thing we have them.
Kellin pulls up, as if on cue.
"Get in loser, we're going shopping," Oli says from the passenger seat.
Kellin and I both groan. Ever since we made him watch Mean Girls, he hasn't stopped quoting it.
I slide into the backseat. Oli's clearly pleased with himself. Kellin's just shaking his head.
"You're lucky I love you," Kellin says, kissing Oli's cheek.
"That's gay," Oli says, completely deadpan.
YOU ARE READING
Stay Away From My Friends (Jenna McDougall and Vic Fuentes)
Storie d'amoreHigh school can be hard. It's especially hard when the girl you like is dating your worst enemy. But it's even harder when everyone has secrets. **some trigger warnings**