Conner In No Man's Land (Working Title)

Chapter 1; Space's Between Planets

It was the last party of the summer before school starts. Four months of my Third year at Edman Wales High School, and counting the next year and a half before I go off to a collage far far away. My grades have never been better (no surprise) and my social statues triumphant to it's decent level of limelight. Majority of which I do confess has to do with my pitch perfect attendance record (my grades-not my social approval). My parents were very thrilled, anyone else just thought it creepy or unrealistic. Perhaps they've never seen a student at Wales that actually wanted to achieve something in life. I laugh, because, yes, it is funny, but not the way you think. It's funny, because it's pathetic. Why? Well because-(am I'm saying 'because' a lot?)-I can not recall the last Three years of my high school career that lasted long enough to fit in my schedule. I sigh shamefully into my sippy cup, because we were out of proper beer cups.

We're at someone's house on a street that is not my neighborhood, and I'm on my second beer not feeling a buzz while I listen to this girl with dark hair that I think called herself Helena, talking about something she did with her friends last summer. God, I hope so, because that is a nice name. We were discussing the test results on our chemistry exam that we apparently shared the same class for, almost shouting over this crappy pop song that I know Cornelius would HATE if he wasn't already miserable from just being here. Just something ells to complain about, I guess.

"I think I got number 7 wrong" I-Think-Her-Name-Was-Helena said, sipping her beer that did not smell like beer. Cranberry juice?

"I think it was Higragine?" I shouted, squinting at my own harshly ill voice. My sister must have given me her Strep Throat. Anyway, I didn't really remember the answer, I just hoped she got it right so she could enjoy the party like I was trying to do. If not, this was going to be another sad night. Far all of us.

"Is that the stuff you put in balloons on birthday's?" She asked, a burp escaped her throat. Luckily her hand caught the ever so rising vomit poking out.

"Are you okay?" I asked, sincere as I am, It was still very awkward. She just waves me off, walking out to the back yard so she could let it out over the rail of the patio. A couple seemed to have been making out on the other side, because all I heard and seen is the two of them covered in I-Think-Her-Name-Is-Helena's vomit, shouting and cursing at her. I lost my apatite and set my beer down to walked to a occupied doorway that inhabited some of my favorite people, at least the ones I could remember. A guy with a red Star Trek shirt that seemed to be torn from the collar, stood leaning by the door talking to Conner 2.o who, not surprisingly, took up the entire entry way.

Red Shirt spoke immediately, "Hey Conner. Have you met Conner?"He laughed, acting like the most lame joke of the night was abstract enough it merit an applause by the Hipster's for being so bad it was good. I saw Conner 2.o roll his eyes with me as I frowned at the drunk and joked back with confidence, "Oh, Red Shirt. Did somebody not tell you what that color meant in an episode?" It was bad, so I didn't smile.

Red Shirt laughed anyway, to my surprise, "Haha. Huegara's comedic talent, everyone!" He gestures ironically to the hallway of nobody's. He knew my name? Haha, indeed. I decide to ignore him so he could forget me in two seconds and turn to nod to Conner 2.o, witch he obligated an awkward nod; Respect among Conner's.

The hallways by the living room and the staircase were crowded with people, drinking and producing so much smoke that it filled the room in an instant. A fire could have been mistaken by passers-by across the street-it was so thick. I could barely breathed, so Conner 2.o and I huddled under the basement stairs with Red Shirt's ex Lila-or was it Lance now? I didn't know for sure, so I didn't ask. Lila-excuse me, Lance-was going on about what an ass-hole Red Shirt had been and how glade to be finally happy with himself-new self. As if it wasn't obvious to anyone at school already who 'Lance' was before he knew it. Nevertheless, I showed my support. We then talked about colleges, which made me cringe. A common topic like this was so grating-that the conversation could shred cheese then be served on a sub that didn't taste very good-what I'm saying is, I don't like talking about something I already talked about with my parents time and again. So I could not stop shrugging at Lance's art Degree he plans to achieve, and Conner 2.o's Bachlers. It was all so trivial to me. Constantly looking far ahead in the future was all I did. Every day of my life since I started middle school and for a while, I was okay with that. But-yeah-a big but...