Lock the Doors - Mattdock

Chapter Sixteen - Mr. Owl Ate My Metal Worm

When we got outside—my bag in hand, Johnny pointed his keys in the direction of his car and unlocked it. We went to the car and got inside.

He pulled out of his driveway and had to ask me, again, for my address so he could enter it into his GPS. I told him and he typed it in.

"You can play music if you want," Johnny said.

"Okay."

We still were on his street, so he unlocked his phone and then handed it to me. I went to the Music app and started scrolling through his music. I stopped when I saw something that caught my eye.

"Y-you have Destroy Rebuild?" I asked him.

"Until God Shows? Yeah, I listened to them when you recommended them. Pretty solid band. Too bad they broke up about five years ago."

He listened to me? He actually cared about my opinion?

That's a first, I thought.

"I didn't recommend them. I just answered a question you asked."

"Eh, same thing," he said.

I pressed the 'Shuffle' button on their self-titled album, immediately hearing Mr. Owl Ate My Metal Worm blast through the car speakers.

Johnny tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song.

"Is this Graveyard Dancing?"

"No."

"Aw, dang it. Which one?"

"Mr. Owl Ate My Metal Worm."

"Nice."

"Yeah," I said, not knowing what else I could say.

Great. Now I just made everything awkward and uncomfortable.

For the rest of the drive we were silent, just listening to the album on shuffle.

When he pulled into my driveway, he parked and I got out. I turned to him and he waved at me. I waved back and walked to my front door. I got out the keys and unlocked the front door, got inside the house, and saw Johnny pull out of the driveway.

I took off my shoes and went to my room.

Oh yeah. There were papers and clothes and shit everywhere. I forgot about that.

I sighed and dropped the bag on the floor, running my hand through my hair before walking towards my bed. I groaned. I don't want to do this.

I reluctantly started pulling the clothes into a pile. I gathered them into a pile and went into the basement, then to the wash room and put the clothes onto a pile on the floor.

I'll do laundry later. Or tomorrow—probably tomorrow, because just that's the type of person I am.

I went back upstairs and to my room, then realized that there was still papers on my bed.

I sighed. I sat down and started organizing papers into piles based on the class.

Algebra 2, English 10, World History, Spanish 2, etc...

Once the papers were in order according to class, I took the Spanish pile and started organizing the papers according to the date. It took about ten minutes. I set that pile aside and started sorting the others.

By the time 5:43 came around, I had assorted and organized all of the papers. I sighed, putting each of the piles in folders.

After the reference papers were in separate folders, I went to where the bag was and dumped the stuff on my bed.

Great. Now I'm back where I started. With shit all over my bed.

I started opening the packages, making a new trash pile on my bed. I organized everything—highlighters, pens, pencils, erasers, folders, notebooks, mechanical pencil refills...

Everything was neat and in piles, except for the fucking trash pile, which took up more space on the bed than any supplies I had.

I separated the cardboard and plastic as best as I could, trying not to rip the cardboard in more pieces than necessary.

I gathered up the trash and put it into a bag and tied it closed, carrying it to the recycling bin located near the back door. I placed the bag in the bin.

I went back to my room, setting the supplies in their piles on my desk.

I just want to go to sleep. I'm tired and I just want this stupid day to be over.

I laid down on the now-clean bed, closing my eyes and trying to fall asleep.

Five minutes. Can't sleep.

Twenty minutes. Can't sleep.

Thirty minutes. Can't sleep.

Forty-five minu—

"Nick! Come down for dinner!" my mom yelled.

Fuck.

I opened my eyes, blinking a couple of times.

How the hell do I get out of this?

I got up and went to the dining room. My parents were already eating. I sat down at my chair, looking at what was on my plate.

Spaghetti. With meatballs. And cheese.

I'm not eating this.

"M-Mom?"

"Yeah?" she asked.

"This isn't vegan..."

"Oh, you're still refusing to eat meat? I thought you got over that phase. Just take the meatballs off."

"Vegan means no meat or dairy."

"That's not healthy. You're eating what I made for you. You can take the meat off if it bothers you, but you're eating the rest of it."

I looked back at my food, then back at her. "Please?"

My mom sighed. Dad rolled his eyes.

"Fine. But you're fixing your own dinner," Mom said.

"Okay."

"Nicholas, just eat the food that your mother spent so hard making!" my dad said.

"I—"

Mom started glaring at Dad. "Nick, it's fine, you can have something else."

"Okay," I said as I started walking back to my room.

"You baby him too much. He needs to learn to follow the rules once in a damn while," I heard my dad say.

Why do I always fucking ruin everything?

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

Here, have a chapter of Nick fucking cleaning.

I'm on spring break though, so that's relieving.