(Jason’s Point of View)
Eyes. Eyes everywhere. And where are those eyes pointed? At me, of course. But this time? I really wish they weren’t. The familiar pounding of the bass vibrated in my ears, bringing back the memories of all those parties I attended just a few months ago.
Before everything happened.
I took a deep breath as all the emotions came flooding in at the most inappropriate time as they always did. Just the little things could bring back the flood of tears that I experienced that night when the police officer showed up at me door. Come on, Jason. Don’t think of all that right now.
Shaking the memories from my head, I continued to walk further into the party. Skillfully, I dodged all the drunken teenagers that were knocking into each other like bumper cars. “Jason!” someone called my name. Turning around, I spotted my ex-best friend, Eric Manson, striding towards me with a confused expression masked with a friendly grin.
I kindly returned the smile, locking hands and patting him on the back, “What’s up, man?”
He patted me back then pulled away to look at my face, “Not much! Partying, as usual. What are you doing here? Haven’t seen you around since…uh, beginning of summer.”
Nice save Eric.
“Thought it was about time that I got out of the house,” I said as I glanced over Eric’s shoulder, remembering the real reason I was here. Reagan. Why would she come to a party like this? Had she ever been to one of Zack Henderson’s parties, before? They were always trouble and almost always ended with flashing red and blue lights on the front lawn.
“That’s good, man. Glad to see you here,” Eric smiled. I nodded and looked around once again, “Where Zack’s parents in town or something? Why’s the party here at your place?”
"Yeah,” Eric chuckled, “Last party his dad’s new Corvette might have got damaged. Zack pulled off the lie, but he didn’t want to risk anything like that happening two weeks in a row. Said something about the wind knocking down the ladder or something.” Bummer.
“That sucks,” I mumbled, absent mindedly. I wondered what Reagan was doing. Is she having a fun time like I use to? Use to being the key phrase. Parties were definitely not my thing anymore.
“Jason?” Eric sang, waving his hand in front of my face.
“Hmm?” I turned back to him.
“So, uh, how are you doing after…you know, everything,” Eric’s voice was drenched in pity as he asked the one thing I did not want to hear this evening. It was the one thing, if anyone ever had enough courage to talk to me, would ask. How are you? How are you doing? Do you need anything? I hope you are alright. Can our family get you anything? Are you okay?
My answer was always the same, “I’m fine, thanks.” Eric nodded, and gulped noticeably, his eyes darting around the crowded room. This was the part where things got awkward and no one wanted to stick around the boy who lost his parents. “I’ll see you later, okay?” I smiled, giving him a free ticket to get the heck out of here.
“Alright, man. If you need anything, feel free to ask me. Got it?” and there you go. I nodded at Eric, and watched him walk through the crowd that parted like the Red Sea for all his glory. That use to be me. I was always the one everyone would turn to when they wanted to get ‘high-up-there’ in the social pyramid. I was always the one people would part the crowd for. I was always the one who all eyes would be on when I walked into a room; and not for the reason of being an orphan.
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My Achilles Heel
HumorI learned a long time ago not to let things get to me. Things meaning people. People meaning Jason Richards. Sometimes I wonder if every human being created has been given that one person who might as well be the death of them. the strongest pers...
