The New Yorker

Article 3

I step outside in shock. What exactly just happened? The cab ride home is a blur, nothing out of the ordinary on the busy streets. Hobos on the corners begging for money to get drunk with, people in business suits running across streets holding briefcases, tourists taking pictures of random tall buildings.

The cab pulls up to my Manhattan apartment building. Fancy huh? This is how my parents show their "love" for me. With money. I suppose plenty of kids would love to be showered with loads of clothes, unnecessary décor, and an unlimited spending budget. But not me. What's the use of having it all? I don't have any siblings to share it with, no pets, no boyfriend either. The closest I have to friends that I can actually stand to be around are my cousins. And they don't even live in New York, so they don't count. Well I guess I do have A friend. Alex hardly counts as a friend though. He is closer to a brother or an extra limb than a friend.

Alex and I lived in the same apartment building growing up. Both shared the experience of being raised by nannies while our parents were out being the social climbers that they are. No one really bothered with either of us, and we were ok with it. It gave us plenty of time to roam up and down the streets of New York. The first time we snuck out was at age 7. Back then we could have walked around our own houses naked and on fire and still neither of us would have been looked at twice.

Janet, the doorman, well doorwoman, greets me as usual with her perky smile and blue eyes. She really could do much better. She actually is rather bright. I often lend her books when I finish them so she doesn't get bored while just standing there.

I take the stairs up the 4th floor of the building. I never take the elevator because I have an odd fear of being trapped in the elevator and missing important life things. Its not being trapped in the elevator that particularly terrifies me, its more the fact that I could miss writing opportunities that terrifies me. Weird, I know, but that me for you.

I put the key in, and juggle the doorknob. For such a high end place you would think I would be able to open a door without it sticking!

Midnight, my black cat, greets me at the door. She snuggles her face in-between my legs and makes figure eights as I walk. The apartment is rather large for someone who lives on their own. But I don't mind since Alex always seems to be around, either that or it gives me time to write.

Speaking of the devil himself, Alex is perched in the window seat in the living room area. The afternoon sun shines through the glass window, lighting up Alex's über blonde hair. He looks up at me for a moment, as if he is going to acknowledge me, but decides against it and looks back down at his laptop.

"Hello to you too!" I say as sarcastically as possible. I can tell by the way he doesn't even smirk the slightest that something's up with him.

"What now Kidd?" I always call him by his last name. The name Alex is reserved for serious yelling circumstances only.

"Nothing." He mumbles. He still hasn't looked up again.

"Liar. I know you better than anyone. There is something up. Spill the beans Kidd." I speak to him as you would speak to any friend that's a girl. He doesn't judge me, I don't judge him. Works out pretty well, even if we do happen to have strong personalities. I throw a pillow at his head when he doesn't reply to my teasing.

"Fine then. Someone is PMSing." I add as I turn to go into the kitchen. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until Alex decided to annoy me. He is so closed off sometimes. The opposite of me. I am as blunt as a button. Not that buttons talk but...

I open the freezer and pull out one the many containers of ice cream that always seem to be there. I have an unusually slim figure for the amount of junk food I eat. Must have a really fast metabolism or something since I am one of the most un coordinated people ever. Sports and exercise isn't my thing.

Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, I pull a stool out from the big granite island in the middle of the kitchen. I never really eat in here, its usually in the living room with my laptop working on some article or homework. But since Alex is occupying it with his attitude the kitchen will have to do for now.    

Just as I take off the lid of the Mint Chip ice cream I hear the sound of Alex's feet on the hardwood floor. Lets hope he isn't just coming in here to yell. Or be annoying. Knowing him, it's probably both. I know that it may be questionable on how we are best friends if say this about him, but I really do like him. Just not his moods.

He walks into the kitchen and heads straight for the freezer. He doesn't make any eye contact, which means he is still in his own bubble of sass. He pulls out Ben & Jerry's Coffee Oreo, which has always bee his favorite. He picks up a spoon on the way over to sit next to me. Well this is progress. He sits down and I realize that I still haven't even taken a bite of ice cream, I have been watching his every move. And as if he can read my thoughts he looks at me through his glasses and snaps a "What?" in my direction.

"Nothing, just wondering what your problem is," I say, which is the truth.

"Wanna know my problem? I just found out my mom has cancer. That's my problem," He says turning away from me.