Another World | ✔️

Chapter Two

Trigger Warnings
Depression
Drugs

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I still just don't understand. Why does Connor want to "hang out" with me? Me out of all people? It has to be some sick joke.

But what if it's not?

That thought keeps coming back to me. What if it really isn't a joke? What if he seriously wants a friend? I mean, it's possible, right?

I finally decide that I have to go. I can't just say I'll be there and not show up. What kind of person would that make me? A horrible one. A monster, really. I can't do that. Even to Connor.

I get there a little early, smiling a bit at the "Welcome" sign that I refurbished this summer. I was so proud of the accomplishment. Out of all the memories I made here, it may have been the best. It would only be better had I received a different reply from my dad.

"Say hi to your new brother!"

No "nice job" or "looks nice." Nothing. He didn't even care. He probably didn't even look at it. He probably just saw my name on his phone and decided to share the news with me. But that doesn't matter right now.

As I enter the park, I spot Connor sitting on a nearby bench, staring at me. How long had he been waiting for me? Had Zoe dropped him off here after school? Did she know why they were here?

"Something special about that sign?"

"I was the one who refurbished it, actually," I reply. Connor doesn't show much emotion as I do. He simply shrugs it off and stands. I guess he just didn't know how else to start a conversation, and I understand that. It's hard to talk to someone, especially someone you've never said more than a handful of words to. "So, why did you want me to meet you here?"

"I just thought you might like to go for a walk. Seems like we could both need it." As Connor speaks, he looks at my cast. It takes me a moment, but I wonder if he might have read my letter before passing it on to me. Could he see how much it hurts? Does he hurt this way too?

I gaze off in the distance, knowing that tree is there. I shudder slightly at the thought, and he looks a tad confused, but nods. "Don't have to if you don't want," he says with a shrug. There's a hint of disappointment in his eyes, but he doesn't seem bothered. He seems numb to everything I say, and again I wonder why he asked me to come if he clearly doesn't want to talk to me.

"No, I was just thinking. I spent a lot of time here over the summer. Maybe we could walk somewhere else. Maybe down the sidewalk or something. O-or we could just meet somewhere else another day or-"

"Chill, dude."

I realize I've been rambling. "Sorry," I say quickly. "This is why I don't have friends."

"Come on. I know a place not far from here. We'll actually be pretty close to my house when we get there. I'm sure Cyn— I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind you coming over if you'd like."

I freeze. I don't think I have ever been invited to someone's house before. It seems. . . Odd. "Sure, we can head that way. I don't think I'll be able to come over though. I mean— my mom would be wondering where I am."

"Ha! At least she cares," Connor snorts, walking past me out of the park. I follow quickly, trying to process what he is saying. Surely his mom cares about him. Unless. . . She's like Dad.

I shake off the thought, following close behind Connor. In a few minutes, we come to a broken gate. Behind it are dozens of trees. I recognize many as different varieties of apple, old and dying. Between them are other trees; oak, maple, hickory. The place is empty, and I realize it must be closed.

Connor turns around and opens his arms like a tour guide. "Welcome to the orchard. My family used to have picnics here before it shut down. It's been maybe seven years? Eight? I come sometimes when the park is crowded. It's an easy place to smoke without getting caught."

I gaze in amazement at all the trees. It must have been beautiful when it was kept up. I can't imagine why anyone would let it get so run down.

"Wow. . ."

"Nice, huh?" he says, climbing up onto the gate. He freezes when he reaches the top and something falls from his pocket. I go to pick it up, barely hearing him tell me to stop. It's then that I realize that the object is an orange pill bottle. He quickly climbs down and swipes it away, shoving it back into his pocket. Those weren't bad drugs. Those were drugs that every household keeps in their medicine cabinet. Drugs you take only when you're sick or—

"Connor, why—"

"Lets go, it'll be getting dark soon. You can—"

"Why do you have that with you?" I press, seeing the panic and sadness in his eyes. His hands are shaking now, and he looks like he's about to break down right here in front of me. I never thought I would see this side of Connor Murphy. A broken, hurting side.

"If you want to talk. . ."

"No, it's fine," Connor says before I can finish. "I just had a headache, that's all."

I can tell he is lying, but he doesn't give me an opportunity to speak again. "I actually need to go. Are you sure you don't want me to see if Mom will have you over?"

"I-I better go home. It-it will be getting dark soon."

"Alright, well, see you tomorrow then I guess," Connor mutters. He blinks and turns away, barely giving me a chance to respond before he starts walking down the sidewalk once more.