Going Out(boyxboy)(NO LONGER BEING UPDATED)

Ch. 1: The Decision

EDIT (5/25/19): please skip ahead to the part marked "Update" before deciding whether you want to read this or not. Thank you!

The Decision

Walking though the halls of Eastwood High has always given me some sense of pride. Every time some teacher would compliment me on my last test, that I aced of course, has always made me the happiest person on earth. I have always succeeded at anything academic for as long as I could remember. On a Friday when most teenagers were out partying with friends, I was locked up in my room studying or reading, and that is the way I liked it.

Or I used to like it, at least, up until a few days ago when my brother and sister confronted me. "You're such a goodie-goodie," my brother had said. "Don't you ever do anything fun?" my sister had added. I know they were just joking, but maybe they could be right.

So, today, as I make my way through the halls of my high school, there is an ever present frown on my face. My lips only turn up into a fake smile when a teacher begins speaking to me.

"Ethan!" my best friend Davie calls as he runs clumsily down the hallway towards me.

"Hey, Davie," I say when he reaches my side.

He begins ranting on about today's tests and quizzes and what I got for question eighteen on last night's Geometry homework. Not once does he comment on my melancholy mood. I don't think he even noticed. Don't get me wrong, Davie is my best friend and a great study buddy, but he isn't always the best socially. Especially when it comes to peoples' emotions.

After answering his nearly non-stop, stream of questions, we depart so as not to be late for our first period classes.

I walk to my first period English classroom where I am the first student to arrive, as always. "Good morning, Ms. Levitz," I greet my first period teacher.

"Good morning, Ethan," she responds before turning back to the black board where she continues to write down today's lesson.

A few more students file into the classroom, loudly chatting with their friends. As usual, mere seconds before the bell rings, a boy with a messy mop of brown hair steps into the classroom, a big smile on his face that never seems to go away. He sends a nod in my direction as a greeting, like he does every morning. Dugan Fields has been my neighbor since he moved here when we were in kindergarten, and this is the only contact we have ever had. Him giving me silent greetings in every class we share or have shared in the past. He will occasionally ask if he can borrow a pen or pencil, which he always returns.

Maybe my siblings are right. Things never seem to stir from tradition in my life.

«*»

"Mom, Dad, I'm home," I call out into my two-story home as I walk through the doors at exactly 3:20pm, like always.

"We're in here, sweetie," I hear my mother call in response from the direction of the kitchen. When I walk into the kitchen, I see my mother and father sitting at the table. My father is reading the news paper while my mother taps away on her laptop. "How was your day?" My mother asks, looking up at me with a smile on her face.

"It was good," my voice doesn't sound like it was good, but I fake a smile. No one questions it. "I got an A on my History test."

My mother stands up and gives me a quick hug saying, "That's great, honey. Where is it? We can hang it on the fridge with the others."

Yes, she said she would hang it on the refrigerator. When most parents stop hanging up their children's art work and report cards when they are about seven, my parents still do it. With every. single. A.