The Gay Gatsby

Chapter 15: I Can Be the John to Your Sherlock

I realized how cold it was outside, even with the still warm hot chocolate in my palm.

"Oh," I spoke stupidly.

I moved back to sit opposite of Callaway on the swing, in an action of amity. Callaway's head turned toward me languidly, smirking.

"You've figured it out then," he sneered.

I glanced at him, "Figured what out?"

"Why everyone despises me," Callaway snorted, pulling at the sleeves of his jacket. "The members of the entire scholar population are aware of my disorder and affiliated issues. Hence the reasons for which they stay away, as you should have done."

"Don't be stupid," I huffed. "You're still the same Callaway that I met last Sunday. I don't see anything wrong with you, except maybe how much of a dick you are. But that's negligible," I grinned at him, surprising myself.

"Seriously, that's it? You're not dubious of my underlying motives for violence? Or concerned with my admittance to past drug use and illegal acts?" Callaway looked baffled as he spoke.

I shrugged at him. "I trust your judgement. But I'm gonna need more info on this whole 'disorder' thing; I don't want to do anything wrong."

"Just read the Wikipedia page or WebMD," Callaway sniggered knowingly. "That's always my favorite."

I ignored his disquieting laugh, pulling out my phone. I opened up my internet browser, typing "Sociopath" in the search bar. I would be utilizing a substantial portion of what little data I had on my phone plan, but I didn't care. This was important.

Callaway peered at me. "What are you doing?"

"Doing what you suggested," I argued, opening up the link to the alleged Wikipedia.

I took one glance at the page and exited it. The site had redirected me to the page for psychopathy, which - as Callaway had mentioned - is not exactly the same thing.

I ignored my friends protests beside me as I typed in a new search: 'Antisocial Personality Disorder '.

I opened up the first link once again, finding myself directed to an unfamiliar medical site. I scrolled through the information, scanning for any important details. As I read the list of symptoms, Callaway had moved to hover above my shoulder to read. I disregarded him as he scoffed every so often, muttering about a passage under his breath.

Though, as I go to section denoted 'Risk Factors', the air between us grew tense.

"Unstable and chaotic family environment may enforce sociopathic behavior, especially in cases where there is little supervision or lack of an adult role model."

I knew that Callaway didn't have a great relationship with his parents. Though, I hadn't realized that it would have been one of the causes for which his disorder had developed.

I had never met Mr and Mrs Lawson, but I already found myself hating them. What they had done to Callaway to spur his abnormal emotional development was unfathomable. How could someone neglect their child to the point where they developed a personality disorder? The answer was beyond my comprehension and the idea of it made me furious.

My anger dispersed as I continued to read the tiny font of my phone. I skimmed over the last few categories of the article.

I sighed as I closed the tab, "All the descriptions make it sound like you're criminal."

Callaway gave a noncommittal hum as shuffled away from me, returning to his swing.

I stared at him, "So you aren't telling me you're not a criminal?"