The Gay Gatsby

Chapter 28: Peppermint Hot Chocolate and Ginger-DEAD

Callaway rolled his eyes, scoffing.

"Callaway, please - you know I didn't mean it like that," she said. "It's just . . . you have so many issues and -"

"He knows about all of them," Callaway interrupted.

" - It'd be unfair for him to have to deal with them."

Something in Callaway's jaw twitched and his smirk disappeared; expression being veiled by the grim film of anger.

"No. Do you know what's 'unfair'?" Callaway snapped. "That you'd rather see your own son alone than see him impose even a minimal amount of strain on anyone else."

Something changed in Callaway's mother's face like a lake finally freezing over in the arctic air of the winter.

"Callaway," she gritted. "You're young . . . he's young. It's a lot to deal with. I'm only looking out for his well-being."

Callaway opened his mouth in retort, but I stopped him.

"Mrs Lawson - I . . ." I already regretted speaking up, but it was too late now. "I think I can look out for myself."

A weighty silence permeated the room, Mrs Lawson surveyed me with an indiscernible expression. Though whatever it was, it was not happiness.

My gaze fluttered to rest on Callaway; his arms crossed, jaw clenched. His eyes met mine and he gave me what seemed like a silent apology. Or maybe it was a 'I'm gonna murder my parents' look. It was hard to tell as light eyes peered at me.

"Well, you don't have my blessing," Mr Lawson spoke, voice sullen.

Mrs Lawson gave a small nod of agreement.

"But you have mine!" Jasper grinned. "I will even fucking marry you two - just find me a bible and a church and I'll do it. Who cares if it's valid?"

I tried for a smile. "Thanks, Jasper."

Jasper raised his hand; inviting. I met it in a high five and green eyes scowled at the movement.

"It just dawned on me that I'd rather not endure the everlasting hate and scrutiny of the individuals I call my dear parents." Callaway smiled, almost maniacal. "Chance?"

I looked at him.

"Please take me far away from this godforsaken household."

Before I could respond, Callaway left - leaving his parents to stare blankly into the barren spot that their son had just been occupying.

"Again, I'm very sorry," I apologized to them once more; genuine guilt seeping within me.

With a small, polite nod, I followed the dark haired boy, shuffling out of the room.

We left the house; the sounds of our feet gliding heavily echoed throughout the ominous tranquility we left behind us. The faint heat of a hand grabbed onto mine as I was led into barren white of the storm, mind going as hazy as the blowing snow.

_____________

"Where to?" I asked the boy slouching in the passenger seat.

Callaway had a weird thing against driving; claiming to only do it when necessary. But I really didn't mind for it allowed me to drive his car. Which, did I ever mention, was freaking awesome?

"Don't know, don't care," he mumbled. "As long as it's abysmally far away."

I grinned. "Let's go bowling!"