Going Back to Sin City

Rooster House, Old Roots.

This time, Brendon was back on that front step because his parents were silently arguing. Something about them trying to find a new church to go to. They couldn't agree on what church to try first. Causing the room to be tense. He didn't want to feel that tension, neither did he want to go to church. Just another group of people who would judge him for being a bit off. He noticed that those kids were in the front yard, they glanced at him every once and a while. Not once did they come over to attempt to talk to him. He could feel that they didn't like him much. They didn't glance at him in curiosity, more like in distaste. Too bad Brendon has no intention of getting to know them. He was too much of a pussy for that, and he didn't want to make roots here. He wasn't going to stay here, he had a year left. A year to just bare it, and then he was free from everything afterward. Maybe he could get a decent job too, and save up money to move back. Save up enough money to buy his desk back from that old lady who brought it at the yard sale.

He continued to sit on this step just watching people, and refusing to interact till his father came. He did the usual of sitting right next to Brendon and pretending to care about what his son was going through. Grace forced him out here, she wanted him to socialize somehow. He looked pathetic on those brick steps. "How about you do something else other than sit here? I mean you have a bicycle." Brendon continued staring straight on, the mention of the bike made him cringe. For some reason, they were able to bring his bike from Hawaii to Vegas, but couldn't bring his desk. It just made him angry, and he thought he was finally over that stage. "You could use some exercise, sitting here being sluggish is a waste..." He was beginning to ramble about how Brendon should spend his time exploring and doing something worthwhile.

"And it would be good for you to get to know the neighbors, just in case something bad happened." There it was, finally he got to the point. Brendon sighed and thought about it for a little bit. Then decided anything was better than sitting on these steps with his father. "I'll go." Brendon stood up, and Boyd went back inside. He knew that his father was still watching from the inside. He could feel it on his back. He stood there a bit, questioned if he was going to use his bike and ride out of the neighborhood or finally talk to the three kids that looked at him like he was the first sin.

He decided to do the last option. Why not, if they cussed him out and screamed at him, his mother wouldn't mind him never speaking to people again. He wanted no roots left, then when he went back to Hawaii. It wouldn't be fair for the people he would make roots with. Brendon walked across the street with his hands in his purple hoodie pockets. "Fuck, this is such a bad idea." He mumbled to himself finally making it in front of that house. It was similar his house in shape and size, but it was red with yellow shutters. An interesting color choice, made him think of a rooster. "Hello?" One of the teens was now standing a few feet away from him. He had a newspaper boy hat, longish brown hair, and brown eyes. "Hey, um I m-moved in across the street, Brendon." He snapped back into reality for that moment. He had his hand out like he wanted to shake the kid's hand, but quickly put it down when the kid looked at it weirdly. This was so nerve-wracking, he wanted out now. He noticed how the three of them sort of looked at each other. "I know, I saw you, Ryan." The kid's name was Ryan, at least there was a name to this face. They were silent for a second. They all just sort of looked at each other. "This is Spencer and Brent, they live a couple of houses down." Brendon had forgotten about the other two, he was focused on the newspaper boy. They sort of just nodded at him and walked away from the situation. There came that weird burn of rejection. Brendon wasn't shy, he was just tired and sad. He didn't want to be on this lawn as much as they didn't want him there. He just wanted to get this over with so he could spend the next year or so of his life in purgatory. Why couldn't they make it easy for him, why couldn't they just slap him in the face and tell him to leave? He didn't want to be told politely he wanted to be pushed by force, but no they just stood there. "Well, it's nice talking to you three." He smiled starting to turn around.

"Where are you from?" Spencer asked stopping Brendon in his tracks. Spencer didn't look as annoyed by his presence as the other two. He has a kinder face, and seemed at least a tiny bit interested in his new neighbor. He was a tiny bit shocked that an elderly couple didn't move into the house like the last time someone left. "I was born in Vegas, but my family moved to Hawaii. Lived there my whole life well till now...." He tried his best not to look down on it, no one cared about that. "Oh that's cool, why are you back?" A question that Brendon thought he truly knew the answer to, but whenever he thought about it. He didn't, he didn't know exactly why he was back here. He was just fine in fucking Hawaii with his brothers and sisters, but no he had to come to sin city. He had to change churches, he had to change schools, and he had to change. "Well, my dad lost his job, and had to come back." That was the easier answer, the one people would feel a little bit of sympathy. "Happened to our friend Patrick, he lived in your house. Moved three weeks ago." Ryan said something again, he seemed hurt as hell mentioning. They all kind of sunk back into their shells after mentioning it.

That's when it clicked, the weird looks, the way they stared at him across the street. He was the kid that was now living in their friend's house. He was a part of removing the roots of some kid, just to plant his own. He felt like shit, even though he had nothing to do with it. "Sorry, sorry about that. That must suck." He muttered. It looked like the three had nothing else to say to him, so he made a quick turnaround. He couldn't bare this, this was too much. He wanted a nap, he wanted to go home. That interaction enough was to trigger him to all hell. He must have looked so rude, leaving like that. He didn't want friends anyway. He didn't need them. He would make it just fine, just him and his... parents?

It was just him and himself.