Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 49: sisterly love

That first day back home was spent, for the most part, on my phone listening to music. What else was I to do, though? My entire livelihood was torn away from me--and that was honestly more painful than the muscles in my legs being torn. 

So, I did what most teenagers who have nothing else to do resort to: I listened to music. I wish this were the part in the story when I used this as an opportunity to learn a new skill, and discovered I have a gift for playing music. 

But that's not what happened. Sorry to burst your idealistic bubble. 

What I did do, was mope around all day, and all night, and the next day, with the legitimate excuse that I was too sore to do much. Mom and dad thought they were being quiet when they talked about their concerns for me, but as hushed as they wanted to think their voices were, I could hear clearly what they were saying. Every worry about the drug withdrawals (as though I was having some sort of violent meth withdrawals), every irrational fear that I was going to get depressed, and every mention of my lack of appetite. 

I rolled my eyes so hard, I'm surprised they didn't get stuck in the back of my head. 

Looking back, I can understand why they were so concerned. Imagine your son going from an overachiever, working out all day, every day, to not talking or moving unless addressed or made to move. I didn't leave my room except for meals, which I picked and prodded more than chewed, and shot bored glares at everyone who dared speak to me. 

I was a moody teenager, to say the least. 

By the afternoon of my second day back, Haley came up to my room. 

I just wanted to be left alone, left to listen to my music and wallow in my troubles. I didn't have am excuse to lash out this time, though, because she knocked before entering. That's how I knew before she opened the door that it was either her or mom. Jamie wouldn't have the courtesy to knock first, and typically barged in without second thought. 

I did my best to keep the what do you want? look off my face. Evidently, my best wasn't enough. 

"I can leave if you want," she said, nodding her head of blonde hair in the direction of the door. 

I forced a polite demeanor and said, "No, it's fine." I took my headphones off completely, unsure of how long this would take. 

 Welcoming herself inside, she took a seat in the desk chair across from me. "So," she began, looking around the room as though she'd never seen it before, "How are you doing?"

"Fine," I said, barely loud enough for her to hear. On reflex, I returned the question. 

She gave a lopsided smile. "I'm not the one who was in the hospital." 

Ouch. 

Maybe she's just looking to tease me. Nothing unusual. 

"Touche." I was hoping that maybe admitting defeat would give her the laugh she wanted, and would then leave me alone. 

This was not the case. 

"I knew you were really into sports and fitness, but I didn't know that you would do...something like this," she said, eyes continuing to search around the room for something. Maybe it was the right words she was looking for. 

"I'm not into sports," I corrected. It was a good thing I wasn't, because adding competition with other guys and myself would have been adding insult to injury. "I'm into lifting. And why are you saying were? I'm still into it." 

"So you can't lift, but you're still into it?" she clarified. 

"Yes," I said simply. She didn't need more of an answer than that.