detention

six - kai

i stand up, and pull out my wallet from my back pocket as i wait for elliot to finish his drink.

i put a $20 bill down on the table, and tuck in my chair, watching as elliot stands up to do the same.

it's now almost 3pm because we took so long messing around while eating, and as we're leaving elliot speaks up.

"i'm going to pay you back, how much was it?" he asks.

i hold up my hand in a fist, "zero."

"what? kai, i need to pay you back."

i frown, "no way."

i shake my head, and begin walking down the street. elliot takes a while to catch up.

"kai" he starts, but i cut him off.

"leo, it was my treat. you don't have to pay me anything, i promise."

he sighs at this, "are you sure?"

"of course." i nod, smiling.

he makes a face, causing me to laugh, which only makes elliot laugh harder.

we probably look like maniacs.

we find ourselves walking to the park again and when we arrive, we sit at the top of a skateboarding wall. nobody really comes here on weekends because it's so close to school. and not that many people skate anyways, or none that i know at least.

i swing my legs and notice elliot is doing the same. we're in silence but it's comfortable. we're both observing.

i've never really been a talker. why talk when you don't need to? as a child, i got sent to doctors a lot because my family began thinking there was something wrong with me.

even at school, i'd keep my mouth shut. i remember hearing my name at role-call. everybody knew my name, because there were like, 10 other kids in my class. they'd all look at me, expecting something. but nothing ever came.

everyone knew everyone, even if your name was kai and you refused to talk for the majority of your life.

i remember the doctors telling my mom that, in fact, there was nothing wrong with my speech and that maybe i was just a slow one. there was no need to be worried, some kids learn quicker than others- and that was perfectly okay.

until it wasn't. my mom had finally given up when i was 7.

"kai, you have to talk to other people." she'd say. just hearing this sentence would make me anxious.

"why?" i'd ask- which was about the maximum amount of words i'd say at one time.

she'd sigh, "sweetie, it's just how we communicate." i could tell she was getting tired of it.

that's as far as she really got. after that, she stopped trying to force me talk to my teachers or classmates. she stopped trying to make me speak in front of other family members.

she just stopped trying.

so, when i was almost 8, i answered my first role-call. to this day, i still have no idea how, or why.

or why it took me almost 8 years.

"dude! your first word!" a kid shouted from across the room.

the whole situation made the class riot, and for some reason it made me happy.

i remember going home later, expecting my mom to be passed out on the table, but instead she was waiting for me.

she finally looked proud of me.

she told me how my teacher phoned and they celebrated. she told me how happy she was for me, and how i was finally normal.

and it took me some time, but i slowly began talking some more, and i made my first friend. his name was cameron, and i've known him ever since.

making friends was always a big deal to me.

now, i still don't talk all too much. not to strangers, at least. and not to people who look angry, or scary.

but i try. and something about elliot made me especially keen to talk to him.

talking to him on the first day of class made me feel euphoric.

when i came home i was so excited to tell my mom i'd made another friend,
but this time she didn't wait up for me or ask me how my first day went.

instead, she was passed out on the kitchen table. i expected it, though. so i cleaned up the bottle she had spilt, and carried her to the couch, kissing her forehead before leaving her be.

now, i need to get a few things straight. my mom wasn't a drunk. at least, not all the time.

a few times a week maybe? she got drunk very quickly, so it didn't take a lot to get her wasted.

most nights, she wouldn't even be at home. it's been like this since dad left. i was 5. at first, mom coped well.

it wasn't until i started school, she started drinking or going out. but i could look after myself. it wasn't a big deal.

people cope in different ways. she drinks sometimes, to escape her thoughts. i skate and leave my worries behind.

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word count: 860
*edited*
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