The Company

Chapter Eight- I Go Emo Over Chicken

We cleared out around noon when we all left for lunch. Lionel and I were going to the mall block to the Chinese restaurant from before.

I noticed that on the way, I was stopped by more and more of Them. There was so many of Them that it practically hurt my teeth. We saw them everywhere, and worst of all, they were all interested in Lionel and myself, especially myself.

I poked at my General Tso's deep in thought. Why did I speak up? Why did I say something? Why did I do something? That wasn't me. I didn't speak up. I was quiet for the most part, just the guy that walked around and got smacked in the face with every single thing that's in my face's reach.

So why did I do something?

"So who's going emo over chicken now?"

Lionel's voice. His sweet, chunky peanut butter, hopeful voice, always giving me the same hope in his tone. I was so thankful that it was him in front of me at that table and laughing over some chicken and extremely flat Dr. Pepper.

I chuckled at the sound of it. "Hey, I've been emo over chicken the whole time!"

"I know," Lionel said. "But you seem a little more emo now than normal. What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," I lied. "Don't worry about it."

Lionel shrugged. "Alright. Whatever floats your boat."

I bit the inside of my cheek for a second before blurting out, "I lied."

"What?"

"I lied," I repeated. "I lied. I'm scared, and I'm nervous. I mean, look at how many of Them there are compared to Us! If they were to rise up against us, we'd be pretty much screwed!"

"Okay, calm down," Lionel said with a nervous laugh. "It'll be okay. I'm one hundred percent sure that they won't rise up against us. You're overthinking this like crazy!"

"I know, but-" I took off my hat and ran my fingers through my dark brown hair. I felt stressful tears coming on, but I didn't want anyone in this restaurant, especially Lionel, to see.

I guess we all have our fears, don't we? Some people are afraid of heights, some people are afraid of public speaking, but me? I, Michael Jones, am afraid of looking weak in front of people, especially people I care about. I can't do it. There's just something about not looking strong in front of people. I don't know if it's a dominance thing or a self-esteem thing, but I can't do it, and I couldn't do it in that Chinese restaurant in front of Lionel.

I felt something warm and familiar on my head. When I raised my head, I saw Lionel's arm.

"Michael," Lionel softly said. "Do you need to get out of here?"

I sighed as I felt the tears form like a big, round Petoskey stone in the middle of my throat. I nodded slowly as I got out of my chair.

When we got back to the protest, we stayed in silence. Lionel stayed by me, but we didn't speak. I gave him a few glances and tried to start conversations, but they were in vain.

We walked back to the dorms in an awkward silence. Lionel left me as he went up to his own dorm.

I went to my dorm and sat down on the bed with a sigh. I put on some music, a little The Black Parade. I was hoping it would let me calm down. I was scared, but I didn't know why. I didn't know if I'd somehow hurt Lionel, but I didn't want to.

I slowly conducted to the beat of the song playing. Ah, yes. 4/4 time. Allegro. So amazing.

I couldn't do it any longer. I needed to talk to Lionel. There was no way I could feel better without helping him feel better. I really wanted to help, but I didn't know how.