The Bucket List

some things are just private

"It isn't?"

"No."

"Why do you have a bucket list, Morgan? It's just a question." Kevin's voice gets slightly more intense.

"A question that I refuse to answer." My voice gets louder too.

"How come?" He yells, hoping that I'll crack under pressure.

"Because some things are just private!" I yell, and I look over to see Liam standing on the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes, still looking tired.
"I'm going for a walk." I say quietly. I snatch the piece of paper that's still dangling from his fingertips and put it in my back pocket as I slip on my low rise black converse. I walk out the door and at this point I don't know where I'm going. I just want to cry somewhere, but God knows that I can't cry in public. I wish I could just die now.

I know I'm going to die, and I know that very well. But why is it so hard to tell other people, when if you don't, they will be left wondering why you died?

I keep walking, hoping that maybe I will find a place to crash. A car pulls up next to me but I ignore it and keep walking.

They pull up to me again and I stop.
Kevin rolls down the passenger seat window.

"Get in the car." He says, sternly.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why would I get in your car?"

"Because I want you to."

"Oh, well in that case," I tilt my head, "No."

"Morgan, please just get in."

"Why?"

"Because I feel bad." I roll my eyes.

"Fine." I open the car door and step inside. We continue to drive around and then he pulls up to some field.
"Where are we?"

"Morgan," he says, quickly. "I know why you're mad at me."

"What?"

"Liam told me everything."

"W-what?"

"Please, tell me he's lying."

"I don't... I don't believe you." I say quietly.

"You're not going to die, are you?"

"Everybody is going to die eventually."

"But you know when you're going to die, don't you?" There's a short pause.

"Two hundred and forty eight days from now." I whisper.

"Morgan why do you hate me so much?"

"I wouldn't hate you if you didn't hate me." I say.

"I wouldn't hate you if you didn't hate me." He says back.

"Oh."

"I actually, kind of like you. You're fun to mess around with."

"I guess I don't mind you either. You're fun to insult." He laughs at me.

"You know you're a cheesy shit, right?"

"Oh, I know... And?"

"I don't know, I just thought I would remind you of it."

"Can you take me home now?" I say, quieter. "I've had enough of you." I fake laugh, when really, I just hate that Kevin knows now and that he will probably remind me of it every day until I die.