Althea

|𝟯| 𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗱𝘆 𝗕. 𝗝𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀

The man squinted at something in the distance that I wasn't about to turn around to look at because I'm to lazy.

His hair was thick but greying. A lot. His dark skin glistened in the sun light. His arms and legs were practically twigs and his shoes looked like clown shoes because of how small his ankles were.

I remember when I was younger, my mom took me to the mall to get Timberlings but she wouldn't let me get them because, and these are her exact words.

"Take those off. I'm not buying those. They look like clown shoes on your feet. You look ridiculous. And stop calling them Timberlings.  It's Timb- er- lands."

Then she went back to talking on her phone. I remember feeling so sad because I really wanted them. Everyone at school had them and they already made fun of me enough. I took the timberlings off and we left.

When I got my allowance, which was about a few weeks later, I bought them. But everyone at school had moved on to these other new shoes that came out.

I sigh. I never got a break...or those new shoes.

I smiled and started to walk forward but looked down when I heard a crinkling sound like crushing plastic. I already knew what it was before I looked down.

Ugh.

I squeezed my eyes shut before looking down and opening them to see a big brown puddle at the bottom of my shoe. A plastic cup cracked in many places. 

This is the first and only time I wished it was poop.

The chocolate gods really hate me for sure. What did I even do to make them hate me so much!?

First it was Enzo with the whole tripping and spilling chocolate milk on him and now it's me being lazy and falling over with the chocolate milk in the mini basket in front of my bike.

I mean, if you ask me it was a disaster waiting to happen. The chocolate milk gods should have known I would collapse from exhaustion.

I bent down and picked up the plastic cup, which was almost in pieces except the bottom holding everything together.

There was no saving that milk.

What am I gonna do? What will Freddy B. Jones drink? Water? Fork no.

I put the empty cup in my bike basket and made a mental note to tell someone about the chocolate milk incident.

I decided to just walk my bike over to him. I don't need the chocolate milk gods getting angry again. Especially while I'm on my bike.

I looked down at my feet as I made my way over to him.

The walk of shame.

Chris would be disappointed in me.

I'm so disappointed at myself. Why can't I ever get anything right? Now Freddy B. Jones is gonna go thirsty until tomorrow.

"Hi Althea!" My head snaps up and my eyes land on Freddy B. Jones or BJ as I like to call him.

I smile sadly. "Hi, BJ".

He furrows his eyebrows and try's to stand up. Key word. Tries. He struggled to even sit up properly and his legs shake so much I'm scared they'll snap like twigs.

I rush over to him, dropping my bike in the process, and grab onto his arm.

He lets out an exasperated sigh before smiling thankfully at me. (Showing his many missing teeth and the ones that are still there are stained yellow).

I don't miss the way he try's not to meet my eyes. He's embarrassed. I pretend to not notice and help him to a bench sitting against the corner store.

The Craig corner store is small and shows the amount of damage people have caused it over the years. From the broken sign to the graffiti covering the rusted brick walls. Cigarettes and broken glass litter the parking lot. Patches of dead grass is scattered everywhere along with people smoking, drinking, dancing to music they could only hear, or eyeing me and Freddy B. Jones.