Bugs Bite

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Here Comes The Storm

'It's not safe, deary. And it's also against the rules.'

Avish smiled at his Mom, even as his foot pulled the brake. 'Rules are meant to be broken, right?'

He had been practicing this for quite some time, now. Driving. This was the countryside, so no patrols and little on-road vehicles made it easy to learn. Of course, it was illegal. He was underage. But he had to learn one day or the other, right? And it acted as a consummate distraction from all the suffering he was going through.

Especially to keep his mind off of what Bhoo had said. There's a storm coming.

Like, what the hell, man?

And he wouldn't even explain what he meant by that. Just: brace yourself. From what, you fucking idiot? Avish hadn't called upon Bhoo after that, concluding he was a useless pawn. He won't help him with anything, literally. Avish had never before been this pissed at anyone.

So yes, driving acted a distraction. It wasn't felony if no one knew about it, right?

Besides, he had nothing else to do all day long. No friends there at the new school, which sucked, by the way. Kids there were still behaving like he was a freak, an outsider, and with good reason, too. Since he mostly just kept to himself, fiddling with stuff, unresponsive to teachers. Not scoring in exams, so unlike his older self.

You, my friend, are still stuck up on the past, which is never a good thing for anyone, let alone a fifteen-year-old.

What did he know? What did that bastard know of pain?

Pain was when your erstwhile friends called you and you couldn't even pick up, knowing that if you did, there would be a flood of memories and a flood of tears and . . . Pain, huh? Pain was when you had to delete the contacts of those former friends, erase your playful banter with them from your mind. Knowing that if these were retained, they'd never let go and . . . Pain, eh? Bastard comes to talk of past and pain. What does he know?

Just thinking of Bhoo made Avish clench his fists, and he couldn't not think of him. It was a reflex. Anything happened, and somehow it would relate to Bhoo. He'd see a random person standing outside his school gates and get reminded of Bhoo. He'd see a kid, smiling and savoring an ice-cream, and he'd be reminded. He'd see a fly, a random, goddamn fly, and think of the time Bhoo had caught one with his throat.

Hell, one day he saw this child, in class four, five, maybe, cornered by a bunch of seventh/eight-graders, and he'd think of the Boogies. And he'd miss them. Actually miss the Boogies. At least they had been able to see him. Here, he was invisible. He didn't exist.

The child's eyes had pleaded to him; save me, had said those eyes. Rescue me, please stranger. Tightening his jaw Avish had passed the child. It's for your own good, kiddo. Don't let me give you hope. Don't let anyone. That's just how life is.

There was a girl in his class, a very pretty girl indeed. And whenever Avish looked at her, his brain went on a senseless chant of one word: Radha. Radha. Radha . . .

The similarity was too much. The same almond-colored hair, the same doe eyes, the same sleek torso. It was almost tormenting, how alike they were. She was even popular, like Radha had been. Like Radha was. Even so, the girl was nothing like Radha at all. Her attitude spoke loud and clear, at least to Avish: I'm not interested in conversing with discarded looking freaks like you, Mister.

Yet does the stupid heart ever condone with the sensible heart? Radha, Radha, Radha . . . each hammer against his chest boomed.

At home - grandma's home, he still wasn't used to living in it, never would be - he held his phone in his hands, long and steady, ready to dial Radha. But what would he say? Hey, listen. I'm lonely, I'm miserable, I have zero friends, so will you please talk to me?