We're Okay

Describe Him

  My science class had been studying density earlier that day. We watched snooze-worthy videos covering what density was and which elements on the periodic table were dense and why and blah blah blah.

   So what is density? I'll give the definition for reasons to be explained soon.

   Definition 1: closely compacted in substance.

   Definition 2: having the constituent parts crowded closely together.

   Definition 3: (of a person) stupid.

   Now we're getting to what I'm trying to say. That's right. I'm dense and I know it. Not in the closely compact way, but in the stupid way.

   'Why are you calling yourself dense?' you may be asking. To that, I have an answer. Many answers, really, but one specific answer.

   I leaned my head against my hand on the counter at my workplace, trying not to look uninterested or asleep. My cheek was numb from being squished by my fist for so long. When Reed has said that no one stops by this place, he hadn't been kidding.

   After an hour, I left my spot from behind the cash register to browse the limited aisles.

   There were things you would expect there. Candy, sodas, chips, pretzels, trail mix. There were also candies that I wanted to rip open myself without paying and devour like a ravenous beast.

   Needless to say, I didn't. I'm not dumb enough to get caught. I took the package of Hot Tamales and stuffed it under the counter. I had a five dollar bill on me because I had seen the candies the day before and had planned to buy them.

   I placed the bill in the cash register and made my own receipt.

   The Hot Tamales sang my name from beneath the counter. At last, I pulled them out to taste just one.

   As I continued to eat more than one, I wondered if Ira liked Hot Tamales. Thinking of him randomly was strange, although it had happened before. Banishing the thought, I continued to shovel Hot Tamales into my already blazing mouth.

   The burn was nice and distracted me from a certain redhead.

   The minutes ticked by slowly, and I sat wishing someone was there for me to talk to. If the silence became too much, I would end up talking to myself.

   Eventually, I did.

   "Why do you feel so lonely all the time?" I hissed quietly at myself, "You already told Bailey you could handle yourself. You can. You know you can. You've made it this long without anybody but your therapist and sister, which sounds depressing and is depressing at the same time. Is that why I'm sad? I'm not sad, I'm fine. I'm sad. Am I sad? I think I'm sad. You're sad. Why are you sad? I'm sad because me talking to myself is more sad than the quiet."

   I concluded my personal monologue feeling more stupid than I had been when I thought about Ira.

  Damn, I was thinking about Ira again.

   "What's up, kid?" Reed asked casually, popping out of nowhere with smoke curling from the side of his mouth. I tried not to cough from surprise and the stench.

   "Trying not to lose my mind," I replied, knowing very well what he was there for.

   "Sounds about right. Hey, what's the update on your boyfriend?"

   "He's not my boyfriend!" I exclaimed. My cheeks flooded with embarrassment. I'd expected him to ask about what was going on, but I hadn't foreseen...that.