The Outlanders

A Lone Fish in the Open Sea

LANE

Now that I have the place to myself, well-- myself and Jasmine, I'm finally given the time to look around and actually appreciate the place Jackie and Mars got for themselves. It's quaint. Rustic, in a way. Like they were trying their bet to make a 27th floor apartment with two bedrooms to feel like a home in the suburbs. Pictures of their families scattered about, but my favorite one in particular is of the one that includes yours truly. It sat just above the coffee table between the television and the couch. Was it far too narcissistic to think that I looked good? Probably not. In the photo, Mars had an arm over his girlfriend, while Jackie had both hands doing peace signs. She was clearly trying to look cute. Meanwhile, there I was trying to get the idiot, Kasper, to try and not look so stiff in the photo. He's smiling, yeah, but it looks like he has zero clue on how to be a normal human being. Looking at the photo was like walking into a portal. It feels invasive, but I allow the thoughts to come. It feels as if I'm back to the first year of college.

It's three years ago again, and I'm watching some guy in a black denim jacket read through a comic book. Each flip of a page gives me the sense as if he's the meticulous type. I try to assess if he's like that with everything else, or if it's just comic books. I take too much pride to walk up and drop my food tray on his table. I take my own, a few tables away from his, and watch as a couple approach him. They all smile. They chat and enjoy each other's company. A part of me wants to be jealous, but I'm better than that. Most of my high school friends took exams in different schools, and made excuses about how it was better for them somewhere else anyway. But I knew the truth, they weren't good enough to pass the entrance exams. It's a difficult college to get in, I'll admit. I'm just a little ticked they didn't even bother to try. I grab a fry, and shove it into my mouth. I thank whatever god was up there that it wasn't stale or soggy. So I take another, leaving my burger to watch while I snack on the sides first. Meanwhile, my left hand produces a textbook from my backpack on the floor. It was a large heavy book. The Art of Accountancy to be exact. It's not a difficult read, but I'm led to believe I should be brushing up for a pop quiz for my next class. And while I can easily skim through the text, my attention keeps flipping back up to the rather tall --probably 6'4''-- loud mouthed in the table where the black denim boy sat. It seemed he was excited about something, flailing his arms about and shit. My ear twitches, because I'm actually trying to understand what he's saying. He's talking about games. I quickly lose interest. The girl in their table is quiet, even more so than the other guy. I'm usually never observant, and I come to terms with the fact that I could be eavesdropping on another table. Perhaps even the one with the cute girl who was complaining about how her professor gave her a low mark on the essay. Or the table where a couple --queers-- talked about watching a movie that night. I'm quick to wonder what movies were playing, but just as fast, I shake it off. I mutter the words on the book under my breath, it helps me remember information much easier. It's something my dad taught me. Not like I was one to admit we ever had a good relationship. But he gave me what I wanted, so in retrospect, it was enough for me to actually think he was doing his job of being a good father. I hate to think of myself as the privileged kid, but I am. Even amongst my peers who's families were paid more than they should be. Problem was, I've been put on a pedestal I can't get off of. So I don't, I've grown to enjoy it, even if it has it's drawbacks. I always did say; It's better to own it than lose it.

"Hey." A voice distracts me from taking a bite of the last fry. I lift my head, and I recognize the girl's voice. I don't have to look, but I do. Blonde hair with pink highlights to accentuate the nature of her pale skin. Normally, pale isn't my type. But she rocks it. Some of her hair cast into a ponytail, while the rest cascades down her shoulder. She's not the type to hide her features, it exudes confidence, and I like it. I smile before she could say another word. She spots my smile, and does the same. "Mind if I sit?"