Smile On His Lips and Cuts On His Hips (Jalex)

Fourteen - No Control

“So we got our math tests back today, and Mr. Geller took two points off this question because I forgot to put the meter sign in. Seriously, I would have gotten a fricking A if I remembered that!” May whined as she gulped down a bite of pasta, seemingly oblivious to the sauce smearing her chin. I looked away from the laptop screen in front of me that held the website necessary to complete my science homework, tsking at the silly grade drop. Getting a test question wrong because you just had no idea what the answer was, or didn’t know how to do it, was one thing, but idiotic mistakes were completely infuriating. There had been pathetic amounts of tests that I’d gotten back and looked over, kicking myself for the rest of the day over how, if I just added instead of subtracting on one problem, I would have gotten the right answer and another four points.

You’d think that eleven years of schooling would remedy those slip ups, but, nope. Humans are imperfect beings made with limitless room for error, and I was no exception.

“You should just write the signs in and then show him the test again. Just be like, ‘Look, Mr. Geller, you marked this wrong! I deserve an A, you bastard!’” May laughed, shaking her head and taking another bite of her food as she rolled her eyes at me, “Ok, maybe not that last part, but you know what I mean.”

“Some of us are actually against cheating, Jack,” she chuckled happily, sinking into the couch with a burp. I raised an eyebrow when she didn’t say anything about it, only getting a shrug in response.

I responded that that was not cheating, just some harmless lying for the greater good, along with a statement that my morals had combusted long ago. Our jolting, randomly jumping around conversation continued in the same manner, thereby dividing my attention between my work and sister. I didn’t really care that it was distracting, considering that I seriously lacked human interaction lately. While it was entirely my own fault that I locked myself in my room and refused to leave the house until after two o’clock on weekends, staying completely silent for hours got rather uncomfortable.

Two hours later, and I had moved on to History, dissecting George Washington’s farewell address – that he never actually physically gave, lazy asshole – and contemplating the meaning of life. It was one of those assignments that was so intensely boring that I would literally rather stare at the wall across from me and let my thoughts entertain me then do it. I’d found it near impossible to fully concentrate on anything lately, with my mind always running and undercurrent of detached thoughts, pulling my attention off what I was supposed to be doing.

It was when my head was turning to whether or not the itchiness of my hips was normal and healthy, that the robots playing on screen were interrupted by a loud clunk from outside.  Dad.

He clomped through the door with a slam of work boots and jingle of keys, metal clipboard that he used to keep his customer’s papers straight in one hand, worn blue plastic coffee mug balanced in the other. He took it with him in the morning and usually didn’t come home until his various handy man jobs for the day were done, carrying the cup around in his truck.

The only reason I’d moved in the past couple of hours was to retrieve something to drink – well, I’d actually gone to the kitchen to get a refreshment and come with a cup of grapes, bagel, donut, and glass of water. Not quite my intention, but I did not retain ability to restrain myself around food.

“Hey Jack, what do you want for dinner?” my dad asked, precariously placing his coffee cup on top of the metal plate in order to drop his keys into the pocket of his cargo pants. I resisted the urge to scoff at the question, since that he asked me almost every day, and I had never had a helpful answer.

“…Chicken. Chicken and bacon.” I replied, totally aware that two meats were not, under any interpretation of the word, meals. But, seriously, he really shouldn’t expect anything different.