Over the next two weeks, Suki, Linda and I all meet up at the bookstore on Wednesdays, and Seaton continues to drive me to school, almost never saying a word. He's so confusing. The last thing he said to me was "What time do you get up," so he could make sure he was out to drive me to school at that time.
Every day I tell him that he doesn't need to drive me to school and back.
Every day he ignores me.
Report cards are coming out, but I'm not worried. Why should I be? Kids are only ever worried about their grades for two reasons. One would be because they won't get into a good college and two, because of their parents. I'm not going to college. I've always known this, but I politely nod as the teachers lecture about how important it is so that they don't call me after to have the 'talk' with me. Mr. Spencer would definitely do that.
And the latter... well, Alfred doesn't particularly care about grades. He never cares about whether or not a get all A's or fail every subject. Sure, when I was a kid used to run up to him smiling when I got a good mark on a test, but then he'd slap me and tell me to clean up the living room and not to waste him time with crap like that, so really it's no big deal.
Mr. Spencer has been shooting me concerned glances ever since my ankle was broken. I told him the same story I told Seaton. Sticking to one story this time even though they probably won't ever meet. Taking no chances. If this ever got out...Well, it could lead to other things getting out as well and I don't think I'd be able to handle that.
At school, people act no differently towards me meaning, quite frankly, that they don't 'act' toward me at all. Mr. Spencer is starting toward me now, his mouth set into a frown.
"Jayden, I didn't get your lab assignment," He tells me, sitting down next to me in the library and looking at me expectantly. Why does everyone try to get me to talk so much?
"Yeah -um -homework was to fill out the sheet and um -I was busy. I'm sorry, sir," I reply timidly. Last night was Wednesday and my dad and his poker buddies ate Chinese. Rice is murder to clean from the carpet.
"I see," He sits back and looks at me, "This gives you a C in my class. Did you know that, Jayden?"
"No, sir," I answer. Finally! A yes or no question!
"Hm," He nods, "Well, you do. I can't make too many exceptions for you, Jayden, even if you are smart. I don't want to play favorites, even if you are mine."
"What?" I blurt out and then curse myself. Damn. That was a terrible slip-up. Speaking without thinking it a horrible thing. I can't let that happen but -it fucking surprised me! I'm his favorite? But why? I don't do his homework, I've got a mediocre grade in his class, I'm not in Quiz Bowl and I barely ever speak to him. How could he even like me?
"Look, Jayden, you're a genuinely good kid," Mr. Spencer sighs, "But you've obviously have a few problems that you need to talk through, and I'd like you to know that I'm here whenever you need to talk."
He scribbles down a series of numbers on a piece of paper in his notebook and ripped it out before handing it to me. I take it hesitantly and look at it. A phone number.
"It's my cell number," He clarifies. "It's always on so I want me to call me whenever. That means anytime, Jayden. If you need help or if you just want to talk."
"...Yes, sir," I nod, but I won't. I wouldn't ever do that. I don't have a reason to.
"Well," Mr. Spencer stands and then gives a short wave, "I'll see you in class then, Jayden."
"Yes, sir," I bow my head in recognition.
I stuff his number in a small pocket in my backpack without a second thought.
-
Seaton's also been picking me up from school. Does this guy even have a job? I mean, really? I want to ask him, but well...I'm pretty sure you get it by now. As we pull up to the apartment complex a week later, I try once more to get him to come to his senses. He can't actually enjoy doing this, and he doesn't seem the type to do this for me 'just because', especially when he doesn't like me.
"Look, uh -sir, um...You don't have to -"
He holds up a hand to stop me. I cut my words short and I frown.
"But -"
"Shut up, kid," He snarls, "I'm doing this, because I feel like it, understand? No other reason. You'll do what I say because I tell you to, won't you?"
I nod slowly and he hits the steering wheel angrily, making it honk loudly. I flinch lightly as he glowers at me. His hair has grown a bit so it's hanging in front of his eyes which are flashing furiously at me.
"What the hell, kid?" He sneers, "I've seen a lot of shit in my life, but I haven't ever seen someone as goddamn compliant as you!"
"Sorry, sir."
"See what I mean?" He scowls, "For god's sake, I'm being a fucking ass to you, treating you like shit, and all you can say is 'yes, sir', 'no, sir', 'sorry, sir." Get mad! Get angry! Yell, scream, do something besides sit there and stare at me with that blank expression!"
I can't do anything. Mainly because I don't know what he wants me to do. Does he want me to yell? That doesn't seem plausible. Everyone likes polite people. People who call them 'sir' and 'ma'am' and do things they ask them to. I've always been good at doing what people want me to do, but how am I supposed to do that if I don't know what he wants?
Did I mention he's confusing?
"I... Yes, sir?" I say, but only because it's a default. I don't understand. If my brain was a machine, it'd be screaming 'error, error' over and over again. I just can't...
"Oh my -" he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, "Get out."
I nod, "Yes, sir."
I get out of his truck and go up to the stairs on my crutches, thinking so deeply I nearly vault myself into a deep puddle. It rained the night before, but I didn't get to see it.
That sucks.
I love the rain.
-
Almost another entire week later, on a Wednesday, I go into Lakeside Bookstore and I'm surprised to find that Suki isn't there today. I jump over on my crutches and sit down next to Linda who looks up and smiles at me.
"Hey there, handsome, what's cookin'?" She asks in a fake accent that I can't seem place. Where is Suki anyway? Did she not want to see me? Not that I mind, of course. They don't have to hang out with me. I'm not an interesting person. It's completely cool... but where is she?
"Uh...Hi," I respond, putting my crutches to the side and grabbing one of the books from the pile she had, causing her to chuckle softly.
"Damn Jay, you really are something." I look up at her. The book I picked has an ugly cover anyway. I'm content to just listen to her talk. She seems to like to do that a lot, "You just refuse to talk without provocation, don't you? I know you want to know where Suki is."
I shrug.
"She worked overtime tonight," She sighs, shaking her blond head, "The only reason she works at Hooters is because her family hates that she's a lesbian and she's rebelling by doing everything they expect her to. It's completely stupid."
"Oh," I nod.
"So, sweetheart," she claps her hands together, "how have you been all week? Don't give me another of those one-word answers."
"Pretty good." Ha! Two words.
"Wha -? Oh my gosh! Was that...?" I blink. I have no idea what she means. "Was that a sarcastic remark? I think I've made a break through! Poor Suki wasn't here to see it! I'm going to mark down this day as the 'pretty good' day!"
"It.... wasn't a sarcastic remark..." I tried to protest, "I don't do sarcasm..." Out loud.
"Nope, sorry," she shook her head diligently. "It was sarcastic and I'm not changing my mind. Can you do any more tricks?
What am I? A dog? "No."
"Damn, back to one-word answers," she sighs, "We need to get you a girlfriend, sweetheart."
Where the hell did that come from? "Uh..."
"I used to date this bi girl that you might like," She pondered thoughtfully. I don't want to date someone she's dated. Or anyone for that matter. "No, wait. She cheated on me, not exactly a good choice, eh?" She laughs humorlessly, "There's this girl at Hooters that –"
"No," I shake me head. Why do girls always want to set you up with people they've previously dated? Or someone their friends have dated? Or anyone at all? Do they all thing they're God's matchmakers or something? She looks at me.
"No, what? No to the Diane at Hooters or no to a girlfriend at all?" She inquired, brow furrowing.
"Latter."
"But why? All guys want someone to tap," She snorted, "I know you've got that quiet, shy, adorable thing going on, but seriously. You're no different."
"No," I say more firmly. Who does she think she is, anyway? Maybe I don't want a fucking girlfriend. I don't. I don't want a girlfriend and I certainly don't want someone to... 'tap'. It's disgusting that she even insinuated it. "Look, Linda, I've got to go..."
I start to stand and she tugs at me shirt. I look down at her and she's looking at me closely, her large eyes peering at me with a strangely calming expression.
"Hey, you aren't lying," She told me, "I'm sorry if I offended you, Jay. I'm just used to more... normal guys. Horny jerks, basically."
"Yes," I nod, still angry. I think she can tell. She pulls me back into the seat and I sigh and look at her.
Why did I ever get into this relationship? Friends just aren't my thing. They're nice, and as I might have mentioned, I don't trust nice people. My last 'friend' was using me. I didn't know it at first, of course, but who does? I was young and gullible and stupid, not that I'm not stupid now, but then, I was willing to have faith in anyone that didn't beat the crap out of me like Alfred did. I was so naïve.
I don't ever want anything like that to happen again and having a friend is just setting me up for it. Not that Linda could ever hurt me in that particular way, but nonetheless. She could just stop. One day she could just not show up and I don't want to be that idiot sitting there waiting.
"Are you gay?" She asks me suddenly and I blink.
"I don't know," I answer honestly. Why should I even have to think about that? I've already said I'm not ever falling in love so why should it matter if it's a woman or a man I'm not falling in love with?
"Huh," She takes a sip of her coffee, still looking at me. "Well anyway, I'll stop talking about it. So, Suki and I were thinking that we should all get together on another day of the week and not just at the bookstore."
I look at her evenly, "sorry, that won't be possible."
"Why?"
"I've got things to do."
"Well, then next weekend."
"Every weekend," I explain, "every day except Wednesdays."
She narrows her eyes as I pick up the book with the ugly cover again.
"Why?"
I ignore her and start reading my book. 'When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow...'
-
When I get home, it's nearly eleven, which means I've got an entire hour until I'm allowed inside. That book I was reading, for only the purpose of avoiding Linda's nosy question, was called 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. I've heard of it, of course. What person in high school hasn't? They make you read it every year, for fuck's sake. Although, I've never got around to reading it.
It was always assigned to read a certain amount of pages every night and, well, you know about me and homework have a very good relationship. I don't do it and it doesn't give me a paper cut. In all honesty though, the book isn't that bad. It has some decent vocabulary and stuff, but other than that, it's pretty good. Which is probably why it's a classic.
Although, so is 'Catcher In The Rye' and I thought it sucked.
It's just about a spoiled rich kid bitching. Boring.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I see that Seaton is outside having a smoke. From behind, it almost seems like he's breathing fire. I'd believe it too with that fiery temper of his. He hears me limping over, as if it's hard not to, and he turns, narrowing his dark eyes at me as I go sit by the coke machine.
"Where the fuck were you," he snarls, "don't you have a curfew?"
"No, sir."
"Why are you always out here this late on Wednesdays anyway, brat?" He inquired, taking a drag and then letting it out slowly. I just shrug. "Damn it, answer."
I think up a lie, "Wednesday is just my relaxing day, I guess. I go to the bookstore."
He scoffs, "Sure. Like you can read."
I'm already in a bad mood because of Linda's careless remarks. He's making me blood boil until I think I might explode. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, and when I open them, he's smirking.
"I made you mad," He says quietly, quenching the cigarette on the side of the trashcan and then throwing it away, "Good to know your capable of emotions, brat."
I just stare at him, making my face blank, just because he said it annoys him. When he turns to the side, I see something yellow on his cheek. I squint to make it out and see that it's paint. He's a painter? Like, an artist? Is that what he does then? Huh. I wouldn't have ever guessed. He notices me staring at the spot on his face and swipes at his cheek, scowling as the thick paint comes off on his fingers.
"Damn, this is oil paint, I could have got it on my clothes," he says and then goes back into his apartment without another word
So wow. Is he a painter, or did he just happen to be painting something today? Does he do it for a living, or does he get hired to paint for other people? Does he have a different job and painting is just a passion, or was he doing something with paint that doesn't even have to do with a canvas and a brush? Why didn't he even say goodnight? Why do I even care about this? Damn, it's happening all over again. The first person to be decent to me, to actually do things for me, and I'm starting to trust them.
Starting to like him.
Damn it, no. I won't fall for this again, damn it! Fool me once, and all that jazz. I'm not going to fall for the same trick twice. I'm not completely worthless- well, maybe I am. I don't even know. I digress a lot, don't I? Gosh. I need to stop all this worrying. I'm not going to trust him, even if he isn't nice and kind of is nice.
Nodding, and finally happy that I've come to a decision, I promptly fall asleep outside in the cold.
-
What seems like a second later, a hand is shaking me awake. For a minute, I think it's Seaton coming to tell me off about the whole 'sleeping outside' thing I just did. But when I look up, it isn't. In fact, it's worse. It's been ages since I've seen that face. Years. How long has it really been? Five years? That's pretty long.
Not long enough.
"Hey there, Jayden," he smiles at me with that warm, crinkly eyed smile of his, "You remember me? Charlie? Been a while, eh?"
"Yeah," I reply. Damn. It's always 'yes'. Why, around him, is it always 'yeah'?
"Your dad said he'd let you in if you got in there in the next five minutes," He kept grinning that feral grin, "so I thought I'd help you out. It's supposed to get down to forty tonight. I wouldn't want you to freeze."
"Th-thanks," I say and begin to stand, swaying as I try not to put pressure on my injured leg. Charlie grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. That was... nice of him.
I grab my crutches and start to the door, wrapping my hand around the cold doorknob, twisting, and pulling it open. Before I close the door behind me, I hear him call.
"See you around, kiddo!"
I freeze.
I hear his steps start down the stairs and then fade as he descends. I take a breath and shut the door. Kiddo. Kiddo. Kiddo. Charlie. Kiddo.
So.
Five years and...
Nothing's changed.
7b1"XE