Shape Shifter

Chapter 3 - Conversation

“So can you come?” Matilda leans forward so she can see me around the friends that surround her. Their mascara-shrouded eyes all turn to me. I shift in my seat in discomfort from their stares. It was her idea to have me sit with her and her friends. They're too bubbly. They ask too many questions.

“I can’t. Not this weekend.” And not ever again if Dad has his way. 

Her face falls. “Oh." Right away, her easy smile returns. “That’s okay. What about we hang out next week?” 

“I don’t know.” I shrug. Her friends are causing me to squirm under their careful stares. 

Matilda moves on to another topic. The friends beside and across her chatter a mile a minute as if it's a contest to get the most words into the conversation. It didn’t take them long to realize I wasn’t very interesting. Just a rich boy with the friendliness of a doorframe.

As young teenagers, most girls my age are always trying to talk to guys and vice versa. I've long since prevented anyone from approaching me. Its incredible how fast you will fade into the background if one makes an effort to refuse conversation.

Yes, it wouldn't hurt to engage in some friendly chatter. But at the cost of giving them the impression that I am inviting them into my life is too risky. The only exception is Matilda. We've been friends for  years. Somehow, against all odds, she became my friend. I tried, i really did, to stop her, but all it did was encourage her further. I’ve never met a person who didn't give up after a few weeks.

Now, however, I feel like an idiot sitting amung those girls doing nothing. My uneaten lunch sets on a tray in front of me, I stare it, angry with myself. Just because Dad doesn’t want me making friends, doesn’t mean I can’t talk to anybody. A coward. I'm just afraid that someone will find out that I have the disease.

It takes a lot of effort to take a bite of my macoroni and swallow it. I don’t taste anything and it makes me sick to eat it. Enough of this. I get up from the table, ignoring casual gazes as I pass other tables. At the trash cans, I dump the food. It might be something I later regret, but as of right now I don’t care.

I make my way through groups of kids standing around talking and laughing. The halls are crowded with students spending their lunch break fooling around. Hands in my pockets, I keep my head low to avoid conversation. Faces are hidden from my view, I begin seeing everyone as a duplicate of the other. Blend in, I tell myself without convinction. It has been a goal that has eluded me since an early age. 

My feet take me through the crowds and turn into an empty hall. The sudden quiet is shocking and for a second I stand there unsure of what to do. I walk down a few strides, slow and uncertain. Then it's as if I can't move anymore. I back up against the wall and slide down until I’m sitting on the floor.

I put my head in my hands. By walking out, I made a fool of myself worse than if I had stayed. Matilda and her friend didn’t do anything wrong. Matilda must think all of a sudden that I hate her.

The oppisite couldn't be more true. More than anything I want right now is to just do something normal like hanging out with a friend. After last night’s conversation- arguement- with dad, I know he won't let me. In fact he would be appaled if he knew that I had a friend that I saw out of school. In our pitiful, twisted lifestyle, my father would rather see me alone and socially awkward than happy with friends. I haven’t even told him that I’ve been to her house. 

It was three years ago, we were eleven. I had fallen off my bike and she took me to her house to clean up. Mostly I remember the warm homy feeling when I walked through the door.  She lives with her mom and sister, her dad passed away when she was little. We had planned to pair my dad with her mom. This makes me smile a bit. We were so stupid.