How to Live | Slow Updates

chapter one

It happened on a morning. A windy, cloudy, September morning—the first to be exact. It supposed it was the perfect day for something like this to happen. The weather made everyone feel down—well except the goths, but then again, they're the goths—and I was no exception.

I had no intention of greeting my friends at the door, high-fiving the guys in the football team, gossiping with the cheerleaders before first period, comparing homework answers with the smart kids in my calculus class. I just wanted to go sit down at my desk in the back of my AP History class, pull up my hoodie, and sleep. The teacher didn't care about me, and I didn't care about her.

As I walked into school, a few kids did come up and try to talk to me, but I just gave them tight-lipped smiles, and ended the conversations as fast as I could. The good thing was, everyone was in the same mood as me. There were no smiles. There were no smirks, and grins, and playful shoves in the hallways. Just sleep deprived teenagers with Starbucks in their hands, badly or not-at-all concealed eye bags, and a slight dislike and annoyance at the world around them.

There was a party last night, and I'm real glad I didn't go. It's a Thursday, and what kind of idiot holds a party on a school night? I would hate being hungover in this type of weather. I'm sure plenty of kids went to the party though—Tony Smith was hosting it. And everyone knew that the Smith mansion was the place for a party. Usually, I don't skip out on parties, but one, it was a weekday. And two, I was too busy helping my best friend study for an AP Statistics test.

I would drop everything for René. She was a quiet, nerdy girl, with large, innocent brown eyes, and unruly blonde hair. She never went to any parties unless it was to drive me home when I'm drunk, or to go call out one of the football players for not helping out on a project. She also happened to be the person I trusted the most in my life, and the one I knew for the longest—aside from my parents.

As I walked into class, most people were lying face down on their desks. Even the teacher seemed was busy scrolling on her phone. There was a video paused on the screen, and I sighed as I threw myself onto my seat.

Great I thought as I fiddled with the strings on my hoodie. We'd get to take notes on a stupid video.

The late bell rang, and the teacher looked up sleepily from her phone as she waited a few seconds for the last few kids to pile into the classroom. She impatiently tapped her fingers on the desk, her fingers hovering over the mouse to turn in the attendance, and start the video. Usually, Mrs. Miller was an attentive teacher, ready to get her class working. On some days I appreciated her enthusiasm. Most of the days, I didn't. However, her enthusiasm was much preferred to taking notes on some boring video.

Eventually, most of my classmates made it to their seats, and Miller played the video. It was dull, and boring, like I expected it to be. I disregarded the worksheet on the video that had been passed out, and smiled when I realized that René probably would fill out the worksheet, and double check her answers afterwards.

I wondered what it was like caring about everything all the time. How did one survive being so cautious and anxious? If I were in her shoes, that kind of stress would kill me. I wouldn't last a single day, worrying about everything, and focusing on all the details. Maybe that's why René and I were friends; we were exact opposites, like the opposite ends of a magnet.

I looked up, expecting to see René attentively watching the video and taking notes on the worksheet, and was surprised to see that the only thing taking up space on her chair were the legs of the guy who sat behind her.