Around the Corner (Discontinued)

Chapter 26

"No, I don't like relish," I mumble.
"What? You dun lick relash?" Ryan replies with a mouth full of food. Small pieces fly onto his plate as he attempts to speak. I scrunch my nose at him as he takes another immense bite out of his hotdog.
"You're disgusting," I say, drawing the attention of an old woman nearby. Ryan rolls his eyes and mocks me, causing another morsel of food to fly out. I look away.

The lights above flicker dangerously, threatening to leave us in darkness. The road-side building appears to have been home to a diner, with leather booths, red checkered floors, and a silver jukebox. The jukebox is wedged into a corner, however, and the leather is completely peeled and torn in areas. Somewhere down the line, the diner transformed into a late night fastfood place currently run by a drowsy man with sleeves of tattoos.

"Jeez, you're such a drama queen," Ryan mutters. He wipes his mouth with the hem of his sleeve. "I'm still kinda hungry."
I raise an eyebrow. "You want more?" It would be his fourth hotdog, whereas a side of fries left me replete and satisfied. He shakes his head angrily and shoves an empty cup into my hands. "Just get me a refill, brat. I'm going to head out." I heave an annoyed sigh, but go up to the counter anyways. The man cocks his head up from his phone and traipses over to me.

"What can I get you, miss?" He inquires with a weary voice.

"A refill please," I reply, "sprite." He nods, and refills it.

"Thanks," I say, lingering. Finally, I find a bit of courage to say it.

"I like your tattoos." He flashes a crooked grin.
"Thanks, kid. I don't hear that much," he replies, "people aren't into the idea of marking your skin, but I like the freedom of expression."

"Mhm."

As I open the door to leave, he hollers.
"Could you tell that pretty lady to come back in? She really made my night."

"She can't, she's taking with her parents. But I'm sure they'll love to meet you." His face pales.

Ryan's sullen face is brushed with an orange glow as he lights the cigarette between his thin fingers. I amble towards him, keeping my attention of the rest of my group under a street light. Each of their figures are black shadows against the light, like silhouettes. Ryan exhales and I realize he's not smoking tobacco.
"Weed," I remark emptily. He nods.
"Being crammed in that damn jeep was killing me. Needed something good."
When I don't reply, he adds, "you're a kid. You won't get it."
"I think I do," I respond, staring at the shadows under the streetlight, and the map being examined between them. I don't need to lie to Ryan- During her freshmen years, I couldn't remember a day where Fern's eyes weren't red. I had also made the discovery of a bag full of cannabis and joints. I was eleven. She was fifteen. I didn't get it then, but I do now.

He frowns. "You've got a smart mouth for a...what? Ten year old?"
"Fourteen soon," I answer. I stifle a cough as he blows out more smoke.
"Really? Still makes Phil a sick bastard." I shift uncomfortably. Fern
requested Phil and I go in separate jeeps. I'm more surprised that she thought of me than her decision. I run my fingers through my hair. I wanted to talk to Fernanda, but after having her refuse to even look at me, I figured it could wait.
"He's a nice guy," I emit. Ryan snorts and presses the joint to his lips.
"Don't tell me you're into him." The scent brings back more and more memories of Fernanda.
"And if I am?" I know my feelings.
He coughs, and puffs of smoke escape him.
"Kid, he's in his twenties."
"But he takes high school classes?"
Ryan sighs. "He did. But this year was his last. He didn't do that well in middle school."
"I see."
"Ryan," shouts a distant voice. He saunters over to the rest of the group under the streetlight. I follow him awkwardly. They didn't call for me, they called for their friend.