The Vituperator (NaNoWriMo 2015)

two \\ glimpse

3:00PM. A beautiful sight. Lerner stops his lecture with a tired sigh and waves his hands at us dismissively. Without a second to waste we all start out of the room, our bags were zipped up and ready to leave minutes ago.

"Warren, make sure you actually do the reading for next class this time."

"Sure, Mr. Lerner," the kid's already out of the room.

The hallway's over crowded and streaming with other students trying to haul ass. Unfortunately, my locker is all the way at the other side of the floor, so I spend about five minutes weaving my way through bags and people. I start going through my mental list of what I need to bring home for school — writing things down was never my thing. I find that the diary is a priority, mostly out of curiosity. I never cared much for Alona, seeing that I only spoke to her once before she went up and vanished. She was a total bitch to me, it wasn't that surprising.

"Hey, Olivia," a sudden hand on my shoulder startles me. I hold back the urge to turn around to see who it is, the hallway feels like it's beginning to close in on me.

"What," I start to dial in the code to my locker, I don't mean to sound crabby, it's just a natural thing.

"Um, could you look at me when we're having a conversation? That's typically the polite thing to do, you know," it was Sasha, I could practically hear her inspecting her nails in the classic, prissy way.

Opening the locker door, I shoot her a look over my shoulder. Satisfied?

"Alright, I get it. You're busy. Clearly your locker is more important than whatever I have to say."

"Now you're getting it," I shove a couple textbooks into my bag. My palms feel a little sweaty, I want to leave.

"Whatever, okay, the guys and I are planning to head to Nick's in a bit and we're wondering if you want to come along."

I have to stop myself from bursting out into ugly laughter right then and there.

"The reluctance in your voice is evident," I say, half turning to grace her with some eye contact before slamming my locker shut. "Bryson put you up to this?"

I would tell her to tell Bryson to just leave me alone, but that's not her job.

"Yes," she says, strained friendliness replaced by a deadpan expression.

"Shocker."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but..." she shrugs.

"Well, it's okay," I say, leaning back against my locker. How does one try to look casual? Tilt my head bag and one-strap my bag? That image is a little too douchey. I wonder briefly if I'm doing it right. "I'm not gonna pester you today with my lowly presence while you and your friends hang out. I've got stuff to do."

"Stuff," she parrots, unconvinced.

"Stuff," I firmly repeat. Wonderful stuff, really. Lounging in my room, all alone, reading a book, some Netflix, maybe — the works.

"Great."

"Fantastic."

"Don't take it personally, Olivia. I don't hate you," Sasha begins, shifting awkwardly. It's weird that she's trying to be nice to me. She doesn't have to do this. I'm okay with what we have. I could cherish it, even. I don't need people like them as friends, reluctant acquaintanceship is enough for me.

"But you don't like me either," I finish for her, "It's okay, Sasha, don't waste your time."

"Right, okay," she nods, she looks comfortable now that she knows she doesn't have to pretend.

I give her a parting nod and power walk out of there without another word.

My house is in a neighborhood not too far from the school, meaning not too far from the richer neighborhood as well. At first I was a little irked I'd be living this close to other people from Irisburgh, but I found that they never really leave they're clean-cut neighborhood that much anyway.

"Hey sweetie, I don't want to be rude, but could you maybe leave the house for a bit?" Pauline tells me as soon as I shut the front door behind me.

"Sure, but can I just drop some stuff in my room first? And also why do I need to go?"

"See, your friend Bryson —"

"— Not my friend. Sorry, uh, carry on."

"Your classmate called the landline earlier today and told us that you'd both be going to a friend's after class."

"A complete stranger called and told you that I wouldn't be coming home today and you believed him?"

Pauline pales. "I should have realized how bizarre — he just sounded so earnest —"

"I don't blame you. That guy is known for being incredibly charming I hear," I wave a dismissive hand and start going for my room. "So naturally, you made date night plans with Mom here?"

"Yes," she smiles sheepishly. It's only then I notice she's got oven mitts on. I find myself smiling at her, she's really good for my mom.

"I'll leave you two in a few minutes, then," I say, before walking away, "and I'll be back my ten at the latest. Hopefully you guys will keep it PG if you're around me when I'm back?"

I hear my mom laughing from the kitchen while I continue my way upstairs.

My room is messy; so messy that on good days you can actually see the majority of my fluffy red rug, when not covered in whatever I have tossed on the floor. Why don't I put things on my desk? My bed? My shelves? They're already full of crap. I try to put the least of my useless items on my bed, because when I go to sleep in it at night I just swipe everything off and onto the floor.

I'm a hoarder. It's not a terrible problem, not enough to become a reality TV star, but just enough to have caused my parents pain when we moved. But you don't need that, sweetie! But what if I do? What if it has sentimental value, making me an asshole if I leave it behind? Oh, I can't toss that out, it might come of use to me someday!

It's awful, really.

I guess that's why I took the diary. I don't find it useful, especially since I'm not actually helping look for Alona — I'm just curious. I've never lived the life she has, everything she does on a daily basis — from how she holds herself to her nightlife — I've never had that. It's the kind of life I see on TV. I don't want to live it.

I just want to see what I missed out on, without the anxious breakdown afterwards (or during).

My small backpack — the dark grey one that closes with a single buckle strap — hangs of my bed frame. I drop my messenger bag onto the floor and pick it up, putting only the diary, my wallet and keys, a book, and earphones inside. Strapping it on, I make my way over to the park. It's on the same route I take to school, being closer to Irisburgh than my neighborhood, so I pass by some familiar faces as I draw nearer to the park. I perch myself by the tree closest to the street, mostly because there would be more sunlight for me to read from there.

Leafing through the diary isn't as interesting as I thought. I'm only at the beginning so far, I know I could just skip to present day for some more recent events, but I treat it like a regular book. Alona writes some fairly long entries and the lengthy effort is appreciated on my part. I'm several entries in, and I've finally reached the entry where she and Bryson kick off their relationship. I find myself wondering what he's like through the eyes of someone who actually likes him.

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next chapter: a diary excerpt!

let me know what you think so far :)