The Vituperator (NaNoWriMo 2015)

five \\ truce

THE NEXT COUPLE DAYS are uneventful. Since that night at Nick's house I haven't talked to any of them that much. My guess is they've still been hanging out, but without Bryson, so without me. Not that I mind, I've been pretty relaxed. I haven't even bothered to take another peek into Alona's diary, which is a good thing. It's interesting, but I really do feel intrusive when I read it.

The sun has been pretty darn bright today, and going against my better judgement I decided it would be nice to take a short nap on the bleachers. I may be skipping Lit class, but I heard someone say we're just watching a movie today. No one's ever in the mood for low-budget Shakespeare. Well I'm not, at least.

There's a Phys Ed class of exhausted freshman doing suicides on the field. I spotted the coach yelling like a drill sergeant when I was climbing up here, I snickered at the sight of it — oh, am I glad that I don't have to do that anymore. It's sheer luck this school doesn't make that class mandatory for juniors and seniors; one of the few things I like about moving here.

I shift the weight in my bag under my head; not the comfiest pillow, but it will suffice. What I've been doing for the past twenty minutes is more conscious resting rather than napping, the sounds of suffering on the field below me isn't as relaxing as it could be. I usually like to laugh at the ordeals of my struggling underclassmen, mostly in the sense of I'm so glad that isn't me anymore, but a little bit off just enjoying their pain.

"How the heck are you able to sleep on this thing?" A voice — Tae, I recognize — calls out from the bottom of the bleachers. I don't even crack an eye open in response, but he seems to know that I'm awake.

There's a part of me groaning internally, the moment of solitude torn away from me once again, but there's also another part of me wondering why he's talking to me. The little question in my head isn't of a rude or abrasive tone, just absolute confusion. It's been a couple days already since I was watching a movie with them. The thing is, if they want to still talk to me, they could have, but they only seem to when Bryson's pushed me towards them. I figure we're friends out of necessity because of this, which begs the question: why is Tae being all friendly now?

Of course, I'm getting ahead of myself. He could just need something. I drape my arm over my eyes, shielding them from the sun. The bleacher groans and wobbles — he's making his way up. Hearing rustling next to me, I move my arm away and open my eyes — Tae's brushing his hair out of his eyes with his fingers, looking down at the field. He squints under the sun.

"You ready to stop radio silence?" he says.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Radio silence means like —"

"I fucking know that. I mean why are you asking me this?"

"You've been ignoring us for days."

"To ignore you, you'd have to speak to me first, but I don't think that's the case."

"We thought you didn't want to talk to us, or something," Tae shrugs, looking lost.

"Well, I never feeling like talking to anyone."

"Yeah, but you didn't really have friends before us."

"I have friends," I frown, I really shouldn't feel this stung by that statement, "just not in this town."

"You've got friends here now, though."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "That's putting the term a little loosely."

"Huh, Bryson said that you're like this. Though I thought you'd get better over time."