Daddy Issues»©

Chapter 3

//John//

"And just what problem do you have with spiderman?" Tyrone asked me sipping his chocolate milkshake with Carmel, whip cream and fudge.

"He was a quitter. He left without a word to the city he swore to protect. He is a coward, the world's worst superhero in my opinion, not only was he a menace, but he chooses who is worth saving. He abuses his power and it's sickening" I ranted.

I should have held back a bit I was in the moment and i gave them my complete thought. Spiderman let them die when I called for him. Where was he?

"The silence does have a voice after all." Clayton joked bluntly.

Tyrone joined his laugh and the two were rocking in there seats.

"So what about you Tyrone do you like him?" I asked. "Is he good to you?"

"No, when I saw him swing over me I don't have that smile."

Clayton stood up and threw his drink in the trash.

"So we all agree spiderman is new York's worst hero?"

I guess he was right because we sure didn't like him. Atleast the new spiderman made an effort. Only now his name isn't seen with hope. It was poisoned and now people won't know if he is there beacon of peace or death.

***
C

ole insisted we go to the arcade so that's were we went. He and Tyrone were challenging eachother for the dominant score on Pac-man Deluxe.

I ate an entire pizza alone with a big gulp soda.

"You've been playing for hours can we leave?" I complained.

"Bro until I win we are living here so get comfortable." Tyrone yelled back.

I wasn't a gamer. I wanted to go home but we all live on the same block and i refuse to walk home alone. I was not scared to, I just felt awkward walking alone.

They were so joyful playing with that machine. Eyes wide as well as their smiles. I hope that joy last, it never does.

They played a few rounds before giving in and agreeing we all go home.

"Okay I'm done, let's go home." Tyrone pledge.

Clayton and I agreed and we were finnaly on our way.

-

Tyrone left into his home and told us by as his mother welcomed him in. Me and Clayton stayed on my porch. He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. He looked concerned and bothered. His face was falling and his eyes were glued to the floor.

"I can't go home." He mummbled.

"Can I ask why?"

He shifted to the side and played with his thumbs. He looked. Across the street to his home. It was grey and dark, the lights were shut off the curtains were closed and there was one car in the driveway.

"Papa" he said simply.

Clayton father was not very forgiving or caring for that matter. He once disowned Clayton and he spent the week after at the school sleeping in the locker rooms. Tyrone and I found him sleeping in the closet. He talked it out with his dad but that doesn't mean that bad blood was not still there.

He never told us what happened but it had to be pretty bad to be left alone for a week.

"You wanna stay here, don't you? I'll tell my dad" I asked opening the door.

"Does your parents have to know?"

Of course they do. They trust me though they would be pissed if I lied to them. I rarely lie to them, I feel dirt even when I do. They never lied to me.

"They can't find out--," I pawned. "If they do it'll crush them, I never lies before"

He nodded shamefully. Thankfully all three of them were in the kitchen preparing dinner so I snuck him to my room.

Just as Clayton crept behind the doors my father Ned walked out the kitchen and welcomed me with a shocked expression.

"I didn't know you were home. Why hadn't u called?"

I hadn't prepared to lie to him .ore than once an it looked like i was going to be doing this for a while.

"I must have forgot, I'm sorry dad." I lied to him again. It left my throat dry and sticky.

He rose one brow before heading back to the kitchen. "I'll call you when dinners ready."

Just as he turned around I ran into my to and closed the doors and locked them. From the movies I've seen parents loved to walk in at the worst time without knocking.

Clayton was looking at my walls. They were empty and unkept. I had drawers and shelves full of books. No posters paintings or art of any kind.

My room we pretty basic. All black and light blue. Everything was neat and matched. Sets, and a smart tv. It looked like an adult lived here rather than a 15 year old.

"This room screams your name." Clayton whispered.

"And what does that supposed to mean?"

He didn't reply. Not that regretted what he said. He didn't care enough to explain further that's just how he is. It felt weird having him in my home considering how much younger i was compared to him. He was a Junior, Tyrone was a senior and i was a sophomore. Some would think i was sheepish and used them as body guards. Which technically they kind of were, they were there for me. It was my turn to be there for them.

"How long do you need?" i asked as i pulled the spare mattress from beneath my bed. He sat down and began to undress on the spot. I pulled a comforter from my closet. it was warm and neatly folded. Why am i so neat, that is such a white supremacist stereotypical word, "Neat".

He couldn't fit any of my clothes so i didn't dare ask if he needed any. He would just have to sleep in his underwear for the night.