Lionheart

Chapter 8

               The next morning finds Nick leaning against the back of his family’s couch, drinking a steaming mug of coffee. His mother, Lisa, crosses her legs, staring at Nick knowingly over the steam wafting from her own piping hot mug. Nick raises an eyebrow at her before letting his eyes fall to the fraying ends of their rug. He toes at them languidly in an attempt to clear his mind.

               He already decided on making up for his idiotic, slipshod, “cunt-bag” self. No matter what Mallory told him yesterday, whatever. He still really doesn’t want to do anything that would have to involve any contact with Seth or anyone else for that matter. There’s no use dithering and he really is aware of that. He wants to choose not to act, but at the same time he kind of wishes that he actually even has a choice in the first place.

         If someone were to ask him if he feels shackled by all of the disastrous incidents as of late, he’d unwaveringly say that yes, he does. He still wouldn’t even be ready to admit that most these incidents were prolonged by his being imprudent. And that’s probably the reason why he’s so indisposed to this whole arrangement that has somehow become inevitable for him.

               There’s always the option of playing hooky, but when Nick spares a glance at his mom smiling at him, he remembers not to ignite her wrath.

               The world is a sarcastic son of a bitch. It’s probably getting back at him for the Kawasaki Ninja.

               Nick takes a sober gulp of his coffee, letting it sear his tongue and throat until it pools at the bottom of his stomach. He probably won’t be able to taste anything for the next two days, but at this point it’s hard to care about a lot of things.

               “Woah, there,” Lisa mutters, maternal instincts kicking in so early in the morning. She prepares to stand, but Nick places a hand on her shoulder to make her to settle down as he kisses her forehead.

               He rolls his eyes at her as he hoists his bag over his shoulder. “I have to go. You take care.”

               Lisa forces a smile. “Sure you’re okay? Do you want to talk about it? It’s a Friday.”

               Nick shrugs.

               For the first few hours since Nick dismounted his bike outside of the school, he’s seen neither hide nor hair of Mallory or Seth. Nick can’t help but think, Wow, perfect.

        No, really. Things are working out in his favor… kind of. The only time that might happen for sure is if Seth and Mallory transfer to another school a million miles from Pointtree. Frankly, despite his current not-so-inflamed disposition, Nick feels at the very least a modicum of paranoia. It’s a shit feeling; why can’t he just go back to his peaceful days?

                    He can always forget about atoning for his lapses in logic and character. He just has to gauge the possibility of shutting his intrusive conscience (what little amount of which he has) down forasmuch as he can’t obliterate it.

                    As he walks to the library, Nick thinks a little more of the way he’s dealing with all of this: griping like the douche he is. It’s getting repetitive and tedious the way he steps on his own toes to keep away from his responsibilities as a human being, but since when did Nick Saunders conform?

                    One of the doors to the library open before Nick gets the chance to reach for them. Wide, familiar gray eyes blink at him and their owner steps back with his hand still on a door. It might just be Nick but he feels more discomfort than he usually does. Seth looks totally fine and maybe that’s a good thing. But it still doesn't really sit right with Nick.