Perfectly Faulted

Chapter 9

New and extra-long chapter after my... pretty extended hiatus... 

To you confused critters, this chapter is written in RYAN'S POINT OF VIEW

Just making that clear

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It's already near Thanksgiving break. The air is chill and a light wind is blowing that's cold enough to send goosebumps across my arms. I can feel my cheeks turning pink, brighter than as if I were blushing. I reach to my wool scarf, wrapping it tighter around my neck and at the same time pulling it over my mouth and th bottom of my nose. I thrust my hands back into my jacket pockets, ballingmy fingers into fists, the whole process making me look like an Eskimo or something, especially with my hood pulled as far down as possible.

God, how I hate late fall. It's just so sad. I mean, the trees are completely bare, the grass is dead, and there's not even any snow to cover everything up. Everything about the end of November just brings me down: the cold, the deadness, the end-of-trimester exams... And my issues with Boris have just gotten worse; how the hell can my luck be so terrible that he caught me crying again?

What's happened to my life? My dad's in prison, my mom doesn't seem to have the strength to do anything except cook dinner and obsessively clean the house, and my school and social life are going downhill. I guess my three friends are the only light in this dark place I'm in: Evan, whose bubbliness makes us all brighten up a bit more, Skye, who - well, she just - she has this way about her that makes me feel better and my heart beats faster just thinking about her smile... and of course Tim, who's basically always been with me since first grade.

 In fact, I'm getting nearer to Tim's house right now, and I wait next to his driveway like I do every day, so that we can walk to Garrett High together. At 7:45 (at the same time every morning), he pops out of the house, screen door banging shut behind him, with a loud "Bye, Mom!" It really irks me how jealous I get of his ideal life sometimes. He has that kind of mother who greets him sweetly after he gets home, asks him a little something about his day, how his math exam went, tell him that there's a plate of cookies waiting for him in the kitchen, that kind of dad who thumps him on the back when he does well and tells him that everything will turn around when things don't go as smoothly, etc... Today, he runs out with a slice of bread and jam that he didn't have a chance to finish clamped between his teeth, pulling on a sweater and messily tying a scarf around his neck.

"You have jelly on your cheek," I say as a greeting.

"Mph - Good morning to you too," he replies between bites. He steals a glance at me, then turns again to face forward. "Is everything alright now?"

I know very well that he's talking about my damn "family issues." I swear, if I could just have my dad back, sober, back to the way he was before, it would seriously be amazing. But I just answer, "Yeah, things are okay now."

He looks at me once more, an eyebrow raised. God, he knows me so well that I just can't lie to him anymore, but its a good thing he knows not to ask too many questions. Actually, I'm surprised myself that I told Skye everything; usually I don't tell anyone anything. I guess that at one point, I'd need to spill everything out, and, well, she was the person I chose as a vessel for my frustration and sadness and anger and everything else.

"You know what you need?" Tim asks, his eyes on the last bite of his bread.

"Hmm?"

"A girlfriend."

"What?!" I sputter, shocked.

"Oh, come on, don't go all deaf on me."

"Sorry, sorry, but - what?!"