- Adrenaline -

Chapter 9: Ditchers Remorse.

~*~

     I got home. Mom tried asking me why I was back so early. I told her I didn't want to talk about it. So she watched me trudge my way back up the stairs and into my tiny little room. She must have heard the screaming.
     I try to wait till my face is locked with a pillow before I let it out. Sometimes I don't always make it. I'm just- just so angry! I'm so stupid! And gay, apparently!
     Fuck, fuck, FUCK, I have so many questions. Dammit, where do I even start. What even happened?
     Jumping out of my bed, I scramble to lock the door, in case my mom dares try to comfort me. Slowly I back up until I hit the straw chair at my desk, slamming my light body onto it. My lungs are still grasping for air, my stomach churning with insects. I try to run my hands through my hair, ripping the white scarf off in the process. With my ears free, I drag my fingers lightly across my scalp, struggling to get a grip on some sort of reality.
     I'm belittling him. Making fun of him and his silly scheme to get me to come over more often. Was he too embarrassed to ask me? Was he more comfortable hiding it under the guise of a study session?
     He put his hands on me. Those big strong hands. I feel my face heat up just thinking about it. He wanted me to stay. I laughed at him. My hands touched his shoulders. Then his face. I could feel some slight stubble on his otherwise clear skin. Johns eyes- oh god his eyes.
     I remove my hands from my hair and stick them to my face, as if I were hiding from someone. So beautiful, dark and brooding. Brown eyes are so under appreciated
     Then I think we both saw ourselves. We both saw our position. And it only got worse from there.

      Worse... do I mean that? Or am I trying to convince myself that it wasn't the best moment of my stupid fucking life? His lips tasted like vanilla, his tongue like alcohol and candy- oh my god.

     I get up and rip the white sheet off my mirror, sitting right in front of me. I look disheveled, overheated, dazed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The only person I've really liked and it's a boy. A boy!
     This isn't just my mind running, this is- this is it. I'm heavily attracted to John and now he probably never wants to see me again.

     Maybe it's better off that way. Maybe this crush will die out. We'll laugh about it in years to come. Until then, I need to forget about him. I think I could also benefit from a shower.

~*~

     Friday, the day after everything happened. Joan can hardly get me to speak. With my head no longer preoccupied with excitement over visiting John, I finally notice the posters and flyers up. The school fair is this afternoon, and here I was, gushing over someone so hard I never even noticed my own work on the walls.
     Cleo passes by me. "Will I see you at the fair, Van Gogh?"
     I wish people would stop calling me by my last name. I shake my head and pick up speed, heading to whatever class was next. I could hardly care enough to keep tract of the time today.

     If my mind wasn't blank, it was thinking about John fucking Kennedy. I'm starting to wonder- am I mad at him, or myself? I bite my lip, wondering about what his intentions were. God, can you stop thinking about it already?!
     So what if the school Jock wanted to fuck you! OH MY GOD! SHUT UP!
     My hand shoots into the air and I simply say I'm going to the bathroom. A statement, not a question, and I don't even wait for a response before getting up and leaving. I don't need one. I just need a minute to be alone.

      The closest bathroom was out of order, so I had to walk all the way down to the one by the cafeteria. Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob to the sink and splash my face with water, moving my wet hands to the back of my head.
      The door opens, and I try to mind my own business, but of course that was out of the cards when said person cleared his throat. It was John.
     "Vince, I uh- I just want to say I'm er- I'm sorry. For-"
     I cut him off. "That's fine, Kennedy."
     "What happened was- it was a mistake. I was uh, drinking anyway, so, don't go tellin' people what happened."
     A mis- a mistake? John doesn't sound too convinced of himself. He sounds sad.
     "Yeah.." I said in response, "Do me a favor and do the same for me."

~*~

     I didn't even bother with the fair. John and Cleo would be there, and that's not something I want to put myself through. With my belongings strapped to my body, I start making my trip back home. I walk through the school grounds, close enough to the commotion of the fair not too far away from where I stand. I guess it wasn't completely avoidable after all.
     I hear people talking. "JFKs throwing another party tomorrow! Because of how good the fair turned out!"
     "Aw man, I'm so excited."
     "I'm definitely going."
     Another party, huh? Well, I'll make sure to avoid this one.


~*~

     I'm home now. Mom insisted I sit down and have dinner with her. 

     The dining room is inside the kitchen. It's pretty small, since it's just the two of us. Mom watches me push the food around on my plate. She knows my head is busy - that's why she wanted me to eat with her in the first place.
     "Talk to me baby."
     I look up, confused. 
     "I said talk to me, honey. What's been goin' on? You've been actin' funny since yesterday."
     "... It's nothing."
     "Bullshit!" Mom raises her voice. She doesn't mean to. She just gets defensive when it comes to my feelings. "Baby, I think I know more than you realize. Somethin' happened with that John boy. Now you can either tell me, or I'll keep makin' guesses until I see your face change."
     I swallow hard. My eyes are glued to my plate, and my throat is so dry. 
     "Mom..?" I start.
     "Yes baby?"
     "Do you think the real Van Gogh liked... Boys...?"
     The silence was deafening. I push my plate away from me and stood up.
     "Forget about it."
     "Now baby, hold on."
     "No, I don't want to talk about it anymore."
     

~*~

    Saturday night now. Mom hasn't spoken to me since yesterday. She either knows I want my space, or can't find the words to speak. Either way, I don't care. I want to be left alone, after I embarrassed myself like that in front of her.
     I texted her I was going for a walk. It's 5 pm and the sun was starting to set. Maybe now would be a good time to take my longboard out, but, falling flat on my face isn't what I would call a relaxing afternoon out. All I'm taking with me is my phone and a bottle of water.

     Already, I'm regretting it. Suddenly, my phone goes off. It's a text from John.

Stupid Jock, 5:06 PM
            hey

     I'm glad I didn't change his name. 

Me, 5:07 PM

            I thought you would have deleted my number by now, Kennedy.

Stupid Jock, 5:07 PM
            no. im having a party right now

Me, 5:07 PM

            I know. 

Stupid Jock, 5:08 PM
            come over?
Seen at 5:08 PM

     It's against my better judgement, but I'll be damned if I pass up an opportunity to see him again. That's all I want right now. So I turn my ass around and start walking down the street, faster than normal.