How gay- I mean how may I help you?

Favor

BY THE WAY BY LIKE THE THIRD OR SECOND CHAPTER EVERYTHING WON'T BE SO CONFUSING TO READ I AM SORRY . But the confusion is kind of the point. I try to become the character and say what they would say or how they would explain and when.

"What the fuck are you doing with the gay boy?" Troy says when I walk back to him and the boys. 

We're the meanest of them all, I mean, how mean can they get? Bullying you for your looks, smack a girls ass here, maybe pick on the gay boy. Probably steal your lunch money. Well that's mostly Trick- his dad doesn't make much money, and he's practically crippled. So Trick has to work at a market store that barely gets any buyers, but at least he gets to bring home the almost rotten tomatoes.

Trick got his name one day when Troy and I were walking around our neighborhood. (We'd been friends since first grade when I punched him in the nose. I only did it because I knew he believed everyone in the class was a pussy, and that was partly why he didn't think he needed a friend.) Anyway we passed a BMX court and saw Trick on his skateboard.

Trick is pretty raggedy, he always has a dark blue, beat up beanie and ripped sleeveless shirts on. His hair is probably the only part of him he actually cleans. He wears dark, skinny ass jeans and Converse. ("They're not a style man, they're a living," Trick once said when Troy asked why he didn't just wear sneakers to skate.) So, always converse. It's our motto. Trick isn't as buff as Troy and I though, he's lean and not too skinny.

We were watching Trick from across the court, thinking he'd do a BMX thing for us, when we saw him walk up to a girl. They talked for a minute, then we saw Trick point to her bike. We thought he was just asking about it or something, but then the girl turned fully and scratched at it for a minute. While she was turned around, Trick snatched her wallet from her bag and put it in his back pocket. I was shocked, I mean I've stolen before, but never in public or from a girl.

Long story short, Troy wanted to know how he did it, and he ended up telling us a whole shit ton of other things he'd done, along with vandalising and shit.

"Hey, Bone! D'ya hear me? What the fuck were you doing with gay boy?" I got my name when I punched Troy in the nose. I broke his nose.

Funny thing is that out of all of us; Trick, me, Puff, and Stk, and Troy. Troy is the only one without a nickname. I asked him about this once, but he just brushed me off, "I name y'all my man. Feel me?"

"Aw, leave the man alone will ya?" Trick held back a snicker, "He just got rejected by his man." He let out a burst of laughter, setting off Puff and making Troy smirk.

"Piss off Trick," I spat, "Just an accidental convo bro." I waved Troy down, seeming as that's what it seemed he needed.

Troy may be a anger problem, mama problem animal, but when it comes down to it; I'm his foundation. I have to be his constant. Between me and him, everyone has left him, and he has this irrational fear I'll leave him. I smirk at him, "How's your sis?"

I sit down on the picnic table they're all gathered at, Troy and I in our own conversation, "Oh, y'know, annoying." I laughed at that, "She's still hanging in there." I watched as Troy's blue eyes fogged over and I knew he was thinking about little 'Livia. He worries about her more than me. Senior year and he's still carrying around that worry. I clamp my hand on his shoulder, "Aye, man. She'll be fine."

He looks up at me for a moment, his blond curls falling away when he brushes them back, "Yeah... yeah." He clears his throat before turning back to the boys.

"What was really going on there man?" Stk asks, holding back a laugh, "Seemed like something really interesting."

He was talking about Jasper. I'd heard that his mom died and he was moving in beside me with his aunt.

"Hey," I'd said, "I'm-" I choked on my words, looking at his deep green eyes for any type of patience or comfort, "I'm sorry for your loss." It felt so dull, and over said. Now I'm not a dick, I like to have fun, but I'm not a bully. That's not  my thing. I'm a person, I'm human, a decent human at that. I don't go around telling people they're ugly, or even gay guys that they're a faggot. That's why Troy and Stk do, not the rest of us. I will admit I don't do anything but walk away though.

"Why," he'd said. His voice was different than I thought it would be. Damn, I feel like an actual dick, actually listening to the guys (even subconsciously) when they mocked his voice in a high pitched moan, "Did you do anything to cause it?" I even thought he'd be more vulnerable. Well, like, y'know.... Not like bowing to me or anything but seeming intimidated at least. Not daring as he seemed with the choice of words he was using.

I've always thought about what I would do in situations. Like in a horror movie when the monster comes at you. Are you a freezer? Or are you a fighter? Or do you flee? I always thought I'd fight, or at least flee. But in this situation, and every other similar situation- I choked. I always do. (*wink, wink*) Now I know at least, I would not survive a horror film.

"I- I. I was just saying-" I began.

"Y'know you don't have to be such a dick all the time. I've heard things about you Lucas."(You are what you eat) He pulled his gums back over his lips, "You're not as bad, or as good, as you think you are. You can't just stand back and turn your head and think that's fucking justice. Fucking do something about it. Just 'cuz they're your buddies doesn't mean shit."

I'd been shocked, truly shocked, that I'd barely noticed that he'd come forward and was whispering in my ear, "So sorry doesn't mean shit. People like you are the reason why people like me and my mom exist." Then he sauntered away.

I guess the thing that was the most catching was the fact that he didn't break, his voice didn't catch and he didn't show mercy through any of it. His straight black hair was left untouched, his short sleeved flannel wasn't wrinkled and his grey skinny jeans were left nice.

"It was nothing," I finally said, too loud. I cleared my voice, "Nothing."

H-0-M-3

I walked home from school, opening the front door quickly then shutting it. I started up the stairs before hearing my mom calling for me. I walked into the kitchen to her, adjusting my bag and putting on my best poker face for her.

"Lucas I need you to do something for me," she began while sorting through the mail, she didn't even give me a glance, "You know my best friend's daughter Reagan?"

I closed my eyes and tried my best not to wince, "Well she's doing the tech part of the play thingy and I want you to sign up. Just be nice to her you know. You know her mom is my best friend? And she kinda has a little crush on you." She repeated. Everytime she asked me for something about her "best friend" she had to keep implying that it was, in fact, her best friend. As if repeating this, like a chant, would convince me to do it. Like hell.

The thing about Reagan and her "little crush" is that it's not so little. Everytime we're alone and she spots me she's always up in my face. It's bad because she's not even ugly, but she's obsessive and overly nice. I'll be honest, I like it when they know what they want, but she's just too much. And she's really nerdy and her hair is too curly. She's exactly my height too, which is a hell no. She also has boring brown eyes. She bakes me cookies that I don't even like.

Fact of the matter is- I don't like her.

My mom is looking at me now, "Come on- she's my best friend."

"Fine," I grumble.

"Oh thank you." She squeals. What's in it for you?