Nathaniel Jean's Senior Year

20: Nathaniel Jean's Actual Future

I woke up the next morning with an aching neck. My throat burned and itched, and my stomach growled with hunger.

     I needed to go somewhere, that much was obvious. But I wasn't sure I could get through a day of school. I was already way late, anyways. There was no point in going.

    There didn't seem to be much point in anything, really. I didn't feel like getting up, I didn't feel like getting food, I didn't feel like getting water. I spent a long time staring ahead, watching as people came and went, listening to the sounds of outside and trying not to let myself think.

    I fell asleep again after a while. When I woke up, it was mid-afternoon, and I felt even more tired than I had before. School would be ending soon.

     I forced myself to get up and get out of the car. I didn't have anything to do except walk around the gardens, but I figured I at least needed the fresh air. Besides, there had to be a water fountain around somewhere.

     People greeted me as I passed; people who knew me as Nathaniel Jean, the star-athlete son of a businessman; not Nathaniel Jean, the boy who just got kicked out of his home for being gay. They did double takes when they looked at me—when they saw my tear-stained cheeks and dark-rimmed eyes and pale skin. None of them stopped to ask, though. They continued on their way, and I continued on mine.

     Eventually, I found a water fountain. The water tasted disgusting, but it soothed my aching throat, and that made it delicious. It wasn't until someone cleared their throat behind me that I was forced to move.

     I found a bench next to a rose bush and sat with a heavy sigh. My phone was in my hands, but I didn't bother using it. I found myself once again with nothing to do but sit and stare ahead. And so I did, for who knows how long. I watched families admiring the flowers, insects buzzing through the air, plants swaying in the breeze, the sky turning orange, then red, then navy, sprinkled with stars. A smile made its way onto my lips when I thought of my conversation with Kenny the night before, and the fact that I would soon be in New York one way or another, even if I had to drown myself in work to make money.

     Then my smile fell, as I remembered that I was, in every sense of the word, broke. That my sister hated me. That I was living in my car, not far away from where I sat. I fought back tears, because I didn't want to cry over my family's betrayal. I didn't want to blame myself. But tears found me anyways, and I had to rush back to the parking lot so that no one would see me fall apart. Night had struck, and there really wasn't anyone around to see me fall apart, but I felt too vulnerable out in the open.

     I spent another night sleeping in my car. I didn't call Kenny—I didn't want to be pestered about finding a place to stay. I didn't respond to texts from Lucas, which were starting to build up now. Not just him—our friends were sending me messages now, asking where I'd been. Hell, even Trevor messaged me, wondering why I'd missed school and practice. I ignored them all.

       I was starting to wonder if I'd ever have a happy ending. Or if, every time I found something good, something bad would arise to burn it town. Maybe it was just me and my unkind fate. Maybe I brought others down with me, too. Maybe the world was trying to tell me not to grab hold onto anything that I would ruin. Maybe it was trying to tell me that I would ruin Lucas, some way, somehow. Maybe it was trying to drag us apart before I caused any real damage. Maybe he was too good, and I was too goddamn tragic.

      Tragic. I was tragic.

I woke up with a horrible taste in my mouth. My stomach burned with hunger, relentlessly reminding me that I couldn't live in my car.