The Absence of Truth | S. Stilinski

VIII. | erica

VIII. | erica

                    PRESLEY AND I got to school around lunch time the next day, him sitting in the passenger seat, instructing me how to use the Jeep. His hip was still injured, but the pain medication he'd been given at the hospital during his morning checkup was what kept him from driving. Next to me, his head lulled back as we pulled into a parking spot. On the wheel, my left hand was shaking. I was surprised that we'd made it to school alive.

"Are we dead?" Presley asked the cloth ceiling of the car. "Have we finally died?"

"Shut it," I said, hopping down from driver's seat and moving to the passenger side of the car where Presley was attempting to shoulder his backpack. I took the bag from him and started walking - slower than I usually would so he could keep up. "You hungry?"

He stumbled along behind me, grabbing the hem of my sweater to keep himself from falling. "Starving," he said. "Where are we going?"

"Lunch room," I explained, walking us through the halls of the school. He shuffled his feet on the ground next to me in response. "Why are you walking like that?" I asked him, slowly down to straighten him up before he destroyed his somehow impressive reputation. I made him stand up straight and fixed his hair so it wasn't so mussed. "There," I said, "That's better."

When he started shuffling his feet again, I grabbed his arm and hauled him forward so he'd walk normally. He groaned, but complied, and we made our way to the cafeteria, where we could already hear the bustle of high school conversations.

As we walked past groups of squealing students, my eyes zeroed in on a conversation taking place at a nearly empty table close to our proximity. Stiles was sitting across from a student, speaking animatedly. The table was completely empty save for those two, so I ambled over to talk to them. Presley followed closely behind me, trying to reach for his backpack that I still had resting on my shoulder.

"I said fifty - with a 'fuh' sound?" The boy sitting across from Stiles wasn't smiling, and the twenty dollar bill sitting between them on the table seemed measly. "Hear the difference? If you can't, I can demonstrate some other words with a 'fuh' sound."

Stiles looked like a fish gasping for air as I saddled up to the table. Neither of them seemed to notice as Stiles reached into his back pocket and pulled out another twenty. "Oh, no, no, no, I think I'm recalling it now. Maybe I just got it confused with fuh-orty." The boy didn't say anything, but Stiles was obviously perturbed. "Come on, dude," he said, "Have you seen the piece of crap Jeep that I drive?"

The boy retaliated with, "Have you seen the piece of crap bus that I take?"

Without thinking, I laughed, bringing the attention of the table to me. Stiles looked surprised, but the other boy only stared as I dug through the front pocket of Presley's bag, pulling out a ten dollar bill and dropping it on the table. "There." I looked at Stiles. "You owe me."

Presley gasped. "He owes me." Then he grabbed his book bag and stalked off to a nearby table where Danny was sitting with Jackson and a few other lacrosse players.

Stiles grabbed a lanyard full of keys from the boy, then grabbed my elbow and walked me to a table where Scott was sitting. "Who was that?" I asked him turning to look as the boy from the last table collected the bills.

"Boyd," he said. "And you didn't have to do that - I was hassling him."

"You were making a fool of yourself," I said back. "What are the keys for?"

Stiles didn't answer, and instead sat down at the seat in front of Scott. I sat down next to him as he said, "Got it. I'll pick you up right after work tonight and we'll meet them at the rink. Cool?" He spoke so fast, I didn't have the energy to pay attention to him fully. My eyes gazed over to the cafeteria doors, where I could see a crowd of heads turning to look. Stiles snapped his fingers in front of my eyes. "Hey, do you wanna come too?"