Life with Franta

Chapter twenty-six.

College wasn't the same after Connor passed away a few years ago, and today was the anniversary of his two-year death. Currently I was on my way to Minnesota to meet up with Jc, Ricky and Andrea to host a party in honor of his death, and I haven't seen these people in quite a long time.

After the funeral that day, things became rough, and sitting there in that car with Jc was the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. I have been to therapy quite a few times since coming back to California to figure out these crazy dreams, but they still seem to happen. It's not as if I am psychic or anything, but there's something inside my brain that can almost predict anything. 

Anyway, as I'm sitting there in the car thinking about the day watching those people burry Connor in the cement, other things in my mind have been appearing and I can't seem to shut them off. Jc and I decided to host a party to get all of us together to really commemorate Connor, but I'm starting to wonder if it's really a party for those people who don't know me to really get to see who I really am. Thinking about all the things that drove me crazy in the dreams they are becoming real life and I don't know if I can handle it. 

I pull up to Jc's house and he's already in the process of posting a sign on the front door and I roll down the window to flag him down, and he turns around and he grins at me, waving back. When my taxi stops at the end of the driveway, he runs down his driveway and smiles when he sees me. I get out of the car and he takes me in his embrace. 

"Mackenzie!" He yells, pulling me tighter into his chest. 

"Hi Jc, I've missed you." I tell him.

"How have you been? It's been quite a long time. I am glad you decided to show up. I've been worried-I mean, we all were worried that you weren't going to show up."

I pause in consideration from his remark. He was worried about me? The same Jc that yelled at me in the car and called me a bitch? This was unlike him, especially after the funeral he's always been distant with me. 

"How about we get your bags," he smiles with a wide enough grin to spread across all of Minnesota. "We have so much to do with so little time."

"Agreed. We will talk when we get inside." 

I let go of him and grab the bags out of the trunk. Once the taxi driver pulls away, we walk up to the porch and walk inside a large entryway and I'm amazed at the architecture that was placed into the house. It was quite a large enough house; big enough to fit almost all the people I knew in my life, and I admire the marble staircase leading up to the second story. A large picture frame of him and Kian full of paint making funny faces was plastered above the large hallway. I laugh looking up at it and Jc notices.

"We took that a few weeks ago when Kian and I got arrested." He tells me. 

"Arrested?" I question him, wondering how these boys possibly could have gotten arrested.

"Yeah," he teases and pulls me into the living room. He walks to a medium sized length stand that has two glasses on it and a bottle of scotch. He pours himself a glass and offers me one. I decide to say yes to the offer and take a drink. "A few weeks ago Kian and I made a video with Cameron Dallas in his apartment. We played paint twister and destroyed the whole apartment with paint. Somehow the police thought we threw a paint bucket off the balcony and charged into the room and arrested us for battery. It was a nightmare."He confesses.

"Wow. So, did you throw the bucket?" I ask him. We sit on the blue soft couch and I'm trying to process the image of them getting arrested in my mind. I just never saw him as a rebel child. 

"No, that is why the whole things was ridiculous. I mean, we had to stay in jail overnight full of paint and no shoes. They took my phone with the picture that is above the staircase, and when we finally got it back a week ago we decided to blow it up and put it above the staircase."