At a Price

III. Photograph

Mason King POV: 

     Look, I never wanted to move. I mean, it's my junior year, moving now is just the worst. And on top of that, I had to leave my brother. What is he going to do without me? Oh gosh, what am I going to do without him? Andrew was basically the only one to talk to me. Sighing, I pull on my jacket.

"Mason, your room is a mess" my mom chastises me.

"We've only lived here for a week, and I haven't had enough time to unpack. Of course my room is a mess," I reply, rolling my eyes.

"Okay. Well hurry up, you're about to miss the bus," my mom says, walking out of the room.

"Oh joy, school" I mutter. I sit on my bed and tie my laces before taking out my phone. I want to text Andrew because it's my first day of school without him (except for that one time he was suspended), so I type in his number.

To: Broski A

Starting school suckssssss (erased)

Wish I was still over there (erased)

Hey wanna give me a ride to school lol (erased)

Sighing, I set my head in my hands. Great, now I can't even talk to my own brother.

     "Mason, you're going to miss the bus," my mom calls again. I dont respond. Instead, I grab my backpack and unzip it. I quickly shove in a notebook and pencil pouch before zipping it up and walking out the door. I bound down the stairs, grab the "first day lunch" she always makes (which consists of a ham sandwich, pear slices, goldfish crackers, and a snack pack of oreos), and give my mom a hug. I'm about to walk out the door when my mom calls out to me again.

     "Did you have breakfast?" I groan and grab an apple off the counter, holding it up for emphasis that I do, in fact, have breakfast. She rolls her eyes, but doesn't protest as I walk out the door. Instead, she calls out to wish me luck.

"Bye Mason. Have a great day!"

"Bye Mom."

     I barely make it to the bus stop. Nodding to the driver, I go to find a seat. Almost every seat is filled with kids. Some are on their phones, some throwing a football to each other, others just staring out the window. The rest are staring at me. There is only one spot left, next to the only girl who sits reading.

Oh no, they're staring... and there's a cute girl. What do I do? I have to sit there, what do I say?

"Uh, excuse me, m-may I sit there," I ask, pointing to the seat next to her. Great, I stuttered. Now she probably thinks I'm weird.  To my surprise, the girl looks up at me and smiles.

"Sure," she replies, shifting her stuff so there's a little more room for me. While she's shifting, I notice a small book. It looks like the one my old friend Braylee had. What was it again... a scrapbook? A scratchbook? A sketchbook! 

"Is that a sketchbook," I ask. The girl looked shocked, like she didn't expect me to know that. 

"Um... yeah. It is a sketchbook," the girl replies. Our eyes meet, and there's a pause of awkward silence, as if both of us are afraid to speak. A few moments later, she speaks up. 

"Would you like to see it?"
"Um, a-are you sure," I ask in disbelief.

"You look curious, and that stutter makes you seem like someone I can trust."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks and I looked down. She seemed to see this, and quickly backtracked, handing her book to me in the process.

"Wait, no I didn't mean that. What I meant was that with your stutter you seem to be very genuine, like you aren't hiding anything, and genuine people are usually trustworthy."