The Narrator

23 - Daniel Draws Paper On A Napkin

Journal Entry

January 1st, 11:52 PM

00:02:13:08:53

I hate checking that fucking clock.

School started up again today. Of course, I wasn't there... I wonder if they think about Alex and me. Those old friends... Becky, Jake, Isabella, Amanda... I wonder if they've even realized we're gone.

I guess their lives wouldn't change much whether we were in them or not.

It's weird how something that affects one person so much means virtually nothing to another.

I guess it's better that way. Otherwise, we'd all feel too much pain.

Or we'd all feel nothing.

Alex hasn't spoken to me in days. He's barely looked at me since that death stare two days ago.

I wonder what he dreams about, if he dreams at all.

I know I dream. Every night.

Why do they call them nightmares? Isn't a mare a horse? Maybe the first guy to ever have nightmares dreamed about an evil horse at night.

Shakespeare is fed up with me.

We've tried everything. EVERYTHING! I can't do anything. I'm absolutely hopeless.

She's mad. I know she's mad.

I'm trying so hard.

The snow keeps falling.

It keeps melting.

I can't sleep.

"We've got our spots picked out," Tolkien said at breakfast. She had a small smile on her face. How could she stay so happy?! It made me want to punch her in her perfect teeth!

I was sure she could hear what I was thinking but I didn't care. I was a mess, I was stressed, and god-fucking-dammit I hated these skinny jeans!

"Make sure you keep an eye on Alex when we go," Shakespeare grumbled. Even she was starting to look beaten down. Her hair was a curly mess and she just looked so tired and fed up and almost angry.

"The place will be lit up, so that's good." Scott sounded like he really didn't want to be here. "I got some binoculars, though I doubt we'll need them. T, you got your car fixed, right?"

Tolkien nodded. "Bertha's lookin' beautiful as ever. Not a bullet hole in sight."

Tolkien named her pickup truck... I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"I got yo GPS all ready to go. It's got yo routes all set an' there ain't gonna be that stupid voice that tells ya to turn left an' shit." Daniel spoke up.

"No cussing at the table." Shakespeare scolded. "You want to cuss, you go do it outside!" She sounded harsh, meaner than I was used to.

Daniel held up his hands. "Aight, Girl, no problem."

Shakespeare huffed and put her fist on her cheek. Her voice softened a little. "How are you feeling, Alex?"

Everyone turned to Alex. He looked so dead. So tired. So lost. He stared at his untouched food, not realizing anyone had spoken to him.

Tolkien put a hand on his thigh. "Alex," He lifted his head slightly to her. That was the most movement I'd seen from him in a long while. "How do you feel?" Tolkien asked gently, leaning towards him.