four eyes | claire standish ✅

nineteen

"What are we having?" Bender's voice makes Angel avert her eyes from Claire, instead watching her friend torment Brian.

"Uh, it's your standard, regular lunch I guess," he shrugs.

Bender digs his hand into the brown bag, taking a thermos and placing it on the table. "Milk?"

"Soup," Brian corrects. Bender digs his hand in again. The boy tries to grab the bag, only to get smacked by John. Angel covers her mouth, forcing the laughter back where it came from.

"PB & J with the crusts cut off...Well, Brian, this is a very nutritious lunch, all the food groups are represented. Did your mom marry Mr. Rogers?"

"Uh, no. Mr. Johnson." Andrew chuckles silently, shaking his head at Brian's ignorance.

"Here's my impression of life at big Bri's house." He stands between the six tables, taking a moment to get into character before speaking.

"Son!

"Yeah Dad?

"How's your day, pal?

"Great Dad, how's yours?

"Super, say son, how'd you like to go fishing this weekend?

"Great Dad, but I've got homework to do!

"That's alright son, you can do it, on the boat!

"Geee!!!

"Dear, isn't our son swell?

"Yes Dear, isn't life swell?" Bender mimes the parents kissing, placing a smile on everyone's face before he pretends to punch the mother, wiping the smiles away. Angel looks away, not liking the story anymore.

"Alright, what about your family?" Andrew questions.

"Oh, mine? That's real easy." He rubs his jaw as if he has scruff before speaking, voice deep, scratchy and loud.

"Stupid, worthless, no good, God damned, freeloading, son of a bitch, retarded, bigmouth, know it all, asshole, jerk!

"You forgot ugly, lazy and disrespectful.

"Shut up bitch! Go fix me a turkey pot pie!" He smacks the air. Angel jumps, not liking how loud his voice is.

"What about you Dad?" he asks, being himself.

"Fuck you!

"No, Dad, what about you?

"Fuck you!

"No, Dad, what about you?

"FUCK YOU!!!" He punches the air, pretending he's being hit. Angel jumps again, covering her ears as she shuts her eyes.

"Is that for real?" Brian asks.

"You wanna come over sometime?"

"That's bullshit. It's all part of your image, I don't believe a word."

"You don't believe me?" Bender scoffs.

"No."

"No?"

"Did I stutter?"

Bender gives a look of hurt, only for it to turn to rage. Slowly, he walks over to Andrew, before pulling up his sleeve, showing a circular scar.

"Do you believe this? Huh? It's about the size of a cigar. You see, this is what you get in my house when you spill paint in the garage. See I don't think that I need to sit here with you fuckin' dildos anymore!" Moments pass as he walks backward before he lets out his anger; he screams, throwing maps and books off the table beside the stairs, before climbing up the side of the stairs to the second-floor balcony.

Angel slides into Bender's seat, letting her head hit the table as her body shakes softly. She bites the inside of her cheek hard, wanting to force the images from her head. She's able to distract herself, as the taste of blood seeps from her mouth.