a heart's end

Four

Monty

The cab ride was long, but it was better than driving. My eyes were glued to the window, fixated at the sights passing right by me. My ears tried so hard to focus in on what the other guys were trying to tell me, it was near impossible. The clock on the cab dash read 7:16 PM and the city was bustling. People coming home from work, their heavy suitcases weighing their shoulders down and they constantly looked at their phone. Tourist with bulky cameras around their necks and their selfie sticks stretched to the maximum length. Hippies in central park, some guy throwing up on the side of the road, and homeless people on every corner. New York didn't stop for anything.

"So," Lucca started, grabbing my shoulder. I turned my attention towards him and noticed that Arno and Auden were looking at me as well. They had this smile on their face that led me to believe they were discussing me earlier, eager to ask me all of my personal information. To find out what I like, and if I'm a serial killer. I nodded at Lucca, giving him permission to finish his question.

"What brings you to New York?" He said, his voice was filled with genuine curiosity. No harm in a simple question, I guess. I looked at floor, wondering how I was going to answer this question.

Because my whole life I've felt like an outsider looking in. My whole life is just this one big wrong-place-wrong-time scheme. I'm awkward and lanky, unlike Mathis. I have zero social skills, I stutter and trip over my words. I'm not talented; I'm tone deaf, and I can't throw a ball to save my life, unlike Marco. I am so painfully average that I almost hate myself for it. All I have to work in my favor is a pen, a notebook, and my brain. I wanted to tell him I'm tired of being a nobody. My life has been a constant rut for the past nineteen years. Mathis has no problem staying in Mississippi, living with my parents for the rest of his life. Not me, never me. I wanted to people to know my name, to remember me for generations. And what better place to start than New York?

But those thoughts are just that-thoughts. I don't pour my heart out to these guys. What I do is nonchalantly shrug my shoulders.

"A change, I guess. I want to be a playwright." I mumbled looking at their faces as they took in my answer. Or, lack of an answer.

"Well. this definitely does it. Coming from the deep south to New York, I'm surprised culture shock hasn't set in yet." Auden commented, leaning over Lucca to see my face. They all halfheartedly laughed, including me. I think culture shock has set in.

That's pretty much how the whole cab ride went. Them mocking me, but it wasn't in a mean way. It felt normal even brotherly. I felt like I was in this cab with Marco and Mathis, not three strangers I met a couple hours ago. I shook my head and smiled at their jabs. I'm losing it.

"So, where are we even going?" I asked, I should've asked back at the dorm. By the way they all looked at each other and smiled, I knew I was in for a long night. Hopefully they're not going to take me somewhere and kill me. What if they're in a gang? What if they're part of a mob? I looked over at them, I could definitely see Lucca being in a mob. He was all relaxed, smoking on his third cigarette even though there are signs on the seats saying no smoking allowed. However, as Arno was rapping the third verse to "Ice Ice, Baby" as Auden beat-boxed, I knew there was no mob involved here. It still didn't stop my heart from racing at the thought of not knowing our destination.

As we pulled to the curb and Lucca tipped the cab driver, I noticed we were walking towards a building. It was about a few stories high, most definitely one of the shorter buildings in the city. The neon lights that illuminated it hurt my eyes and gave me an instant headache. There were people all around, hanging with friends, taking pictures, drunkenly slumped over on the curb. My face twisted in disgust and I had a instant urge to just go back to the dorm. I've read about night clubs in books, I've seen them in all the cliche teen movies, but never have I been to one. I looked at my roomates and they looked right at home. How obvious could it be that they've done this probably hundreds of times? I just had to look like them; cool, calm, and collective.