SIDEKICK

Chapter Seven: I'm Just a Poor Boy Nobody Loves Me

CHAPTER SEVEN

I’m Just a Poor Boy Nobody Loves Me

When George kicks me out, I end up holding the plastic bag full of my belongings in front of Ridler High. I check the time on my phone. It’s nearly nine.

My thumb wanders over the contacts list. Peter’s name pops up.

Should I give him a ring?

Granted, he is my only friend. And he did offer for me to stay the night at his place in the city.

I rustle through my plastic bag, look for my spare wallet. The other one in my pocket has no cash in it. I find it and open it, expecting the extra cash I’ve saved up from the social services allowances, the little parts where George hasn’t stolen.

No cash.

Damnit George.

“Shit,” I curse and pack the wallet away.

Okay, no cash, no food.

No place to live.

The battery on my phone is dwindling at 10%.

No phone either.

All my belongings are in a plastic bag.

I’m now officially homeless.

The solution to my temporary situation is that I sneak into the school and spend my Sunday night sleeping in the AV room. It’s warm, and there’s a rumour that the AV club members often stay over and keep a supply of blankets in the change locker inside. I open it and find the blankets.

Jackpot.

So, after raiding the school cafeteria, I return to the AV room.

I turn on the TV and watch the news. The bar Peter accidentally blew up is all over the news. The reporter concludes that it was a fault in the architecture and an old pipe line.

I turn it off.  My chair is uncomfortable to sleep in, but it’s not really a choice in my situation. I eventually drift off to sleep.

Homelessness has its perks.

When I wake up, I can hear people beyond the AV door. I wipe away the drool down the side of my chin and quickly attempt to get changed.

After a long battle with my sweaty loose jeans, I admit defeat and keep them on.

I pull out the phone from underneath me, and press the on button. I pray for it to switch on.

My prayers are unanswered as it lies dead in my hands.

The phone tucks into my front pocket and I quickly stuff the blanket in the locker.

With the leftover food I ate last night on my lap, I roll out of the room and join the river of students, my hobo bag behind my back.

I make it to my locker and stuff everything inside. Just as I go to grab my books, someone looms over me.

I look up, and it’s Peter.

“Hey,” he smiles.

The books make their way into my hands. “Hey.”

He pushes my chair along as we head up the elevator to the roof. When we get upstairs, he lies down in the open sun, completely carefree and ignorant of how stupid he looks right now.

I frown. What’s he so happy about?

I wheel towards him but stay a few feet away. He rolls over the ground; the happy go-lucky grin is plastered on his face. His weirdly optimistic attitude is not like him at all.