moon river ; g.d.

one

River's POV
"Hey, Mark's having a party tonight at around eight, you should totally come."

I let my fingers linger on the cold lock, trying to remember if I had all my textbooks before I went home. I scanned the cracked and worn-down spines of each one, resting at the bottom of my dented up locker, and felt her tap my shoulder to get my attention. "I heard you, Martin." I replied, refusing to look in her direction.

"Then answer me?" She said like it was a question.

The several voices passing us after the final period Bell had rang was giving me a headache. I bent down and picked up one final book and slammed the door shut, toying with the lock until it was situated. I slung my backpack back on over my shoulder and winced at the weight of it. I had three to four different textbooks in that one small space, and I guess forgot that it wasn't as light as it was when there was only one. I flipped over the cover of the book I grabbed, reading the contents of whatever page I turned to.

"River!" She said, this time louder in order for me to hear her over all the noise.

"No," I said simply, giving her a passive-aggressive smile and turning away to head for the closest pair of exit doors. I didn't bother checking to make sure she was following behind me, and used my free hand to dig around in the side pocket of my backpack for my car keys. The hand connecting with my shoulder let me know she was though. She pulled lightly as if to try and get me to slow down, but I continued on with my regular pace.

"Will you at least consider it?" She eventually stuck her hand in my backpack pocket once she realized one of my keys was hung in the netting, and placed them in the hand I had held out for them. "It's been so long since you've gone anywhere."

"Where am I now?" I snapped.

"You know what I mean."

I rolled my eyes, to both myself and to her. She knew exactly what she was doing, and knew how pissed off I was, but she kept on. She kept on and kept on all the way down the sidewalk, and across the parking lot until we reached my car. By then she had come up with every ludicrous reason as to why I should go to this party with her, and I'd had it. I'd had it the moment she started, but I like her to feel like she at least has a chance at convincing me. It only makes my refusal seem more final.

"Stop, Martin! I'm not going to that damn party! Go with Brandi, or Isaiah!"

She scoffed, and leaned herself against the passenger door. "Im not going with either of them, thank you. Your brother's just my sloppy second compared to you ... my best friend."

Anger was boiling up in me even more, so much so that if it were actual boiling water it would have spilled over the pot and burnt the floor beneath the stove. "Get off my car and go to hell." I ripped open my door and threw the things I was carrying inside, landing in a pile in my passenger seat, leaving no room for her to try to sit there. She scoffed at me again, but I didn't give her any more time to try and persuade me. I slammed my door shut once I was behind the wheel and jammed the keys into the ignition.

I locked the doors and let the engine start up while she continuously tapped on my window, her muffled voice yelling at me from outside. I was unbothered, and could only really focus on how ridiculous she probably looked to everyone in the parking lot right now. Like a crazy girlfriend who's boyfriend won't speak to her for some whatever reason.

I stepped on the gas and drove away, watching her in my rearview mirror give me the finger before stomping to her own vehicle.

The radio blared music from a channel I didn't recognize, but I wasn't tempted to change it. The music wasn't annoying, or unlike what I'd normally listen to, and I could use some noise right now, regardless of what it was. How could she be like this? When she knows the exact reason as to why I don't do parties. It's such a cliche thing, the girl who doesn't go to them because she'd rather stay home with a book and a cup of tea, but it's better than any parties that Markus Banks had ever hosted.

Markus Banks is the epitome of what it means to be a douchebag. The sunglasses and letter jacket he wore every single day of his life was only the beginning of that cliche. He played sports, drove a nice car, had a new girlfriend every month, and knew how to throw a party. Those are his only real qualities, some not even qualifying as such.

I've gone to a few of them before, for Paige's sake only, and have only enjoyed myself once. The first time, and that was only because she actually stayed with me the whole night instead of running off like she did the other two times. We drank a little bit, danced, and came home. It was exactly how nights like that were supposed to end.

After the last time, I was turned off from parties. Not just stupid high school ones, but ones in general. Even whenever I pack up and head off to college, I'll continue to be the nerd who stays in her dorm and finishes up homework while everyone else is downstairs, wasted. Drinking won't earn you that master's degree.

I pulled into my driveway and turned off my car, the radio still playing whatever it started on. I pushed the dial, turning it off and scooped up everything in the seat next to me. I kicked the car door shut with my foot and opened the front door the same way.

"Need some help?"

"Please."

My dad took my book-filled backpack and slung it over his own shoulder while I shut the door. He smiled at me sweetly and kissed the top of my head. "How was school, cherry?"

Cherry has been my nickname ever since I was at least eleven years old. I was eleven years old when I first watched Breakfast at Tiffany's, and immediately after it was over I was determined to learn to speak French. I spent a good few weeks practicing, but could never get the tone of voice right. French people have the accent to match the language, and everytime I tried to call someone "cherié" it always ended up as "cherry."

"It was fine up until Paige pissed me off," I replied. He followed behind me as I headed to my room.

"What'd she do now?" He asked, like he'd heard this a million times before, which he probably had.

"Trying to get me to go to that damn party tonight at Mark's," I snapped, pushing my door open and throwing the one book I was carrying down on my bed. He effortlessly laid down my backpack and went to lean against the wood of my doorframe.

"Better wear down that potty mouth down before your mother gets home," he said jokingly.

I smiled and sighed. "Sorry."

"You fight with her, what, every week? You guys'll make up sooner or later and be on to the next thing."

This was true, had been for years. She was the first friend my brother and I had when we came to school here in the 3rd grade. We were the new kids, another cliche. No one wanted to sit with us at lunch, or play with us at recess, but she put in the effort to speak to us one day and the three of us have been tight ever since. She even has a guest bedroom all to herself because she's here so often.

"Yeah," I said, mindlessly staring around my room.

"I don't have anything planned for dinner, so youre pretty much left to fend for yourself." He smiled once more before turning around heading back to the living room. I sat my backpack upright and began slowly removing the books and loose papers. I started my homework as quickly as possible to keep myself distracted from picking up the phone and calling her, just to yell at her more.

WELCOME TO ANOER STORY TOYS AND SQUIRRELS. This one is very .... interesting, I guess. Fun fact I actually had a dream about this, and didn't remember said dream until a week later when I had the same dream, so it just felt like a sign. I hope you enjoy this rather odd, very far-fetched story from the depths of my imagination ♡