Chapter Twelve:
You really learn what it means to be a friend when you’re alone. My friends ignored me as I ignored them, neither of us bothering to cut the ties or saw the tension between us. Danny’s face was slowly healing, yet his grudge was still black as ever. I found the whole spiel incredibly annoying and unbelievably awkward. Fisher was in most of my classes, and he just averted my eyes whenever he could, even when we presented our drug project to our Health class.
Cliff, who was my locker neighbor and forever partner in crime when it came to Biology, eventually removed the pink from his hair until he was left with his bland blue-white-brown uniform. I tried asking him for the RNA notes we took that Friday I was sick, but he just shook his head; never uttering a word.
Annoyed. Irritated. Angry. There wasn’t a dry day that went by when I didn’t feel these emotions. I was a human personification of teenage angst, even more than usual. I felt like I was in hell. No, I felt like I was back in middle school. It was horrible.
“Hey,” my sister said one night, after rudely barging into my room, “did all your friends die in a tragic accident or something?”
I paused my game, annoyed that I couldn’t play a game of Fallout in peace. I turned around to see my sister, who was leaning on my doorframe in her pajamas that had NIU (Northern Illinois University) plastered on her sweatshirt. It is her dream school, after all. Soon enough, she’ll be out of my life, and her car will become part of mine. Can’t wait.
“Huh?” I asked, my stupid voice cracking.
She smirked, “I said; did your friends die or something? I haven’t seen Fisher since he was snooping around my room a month or so ago. What gives?”
I shrugged my shoulders, unpausing the game and making the executive decision to ignore this conversation as hard as possible. I walked around Megaton, one of the first places you go after you leave the Vault. At the moment, I kind of wished I was a protagonist in a post-apocalyptic video game than a moronic freshman in the suburbs of Chicago.
“What about Danny? He’s the Mexican one, right? Or, Chad, was it?”
“Cliff,” I impulsively corrected. Dammit.
“Right,” She nodded, “Clifford with the Big Pink Hair. Listen, if you’re gonna be a loner and sulk for the rest of your high school days, can you at least tell mom to call off your surprise birthday party? It’s both awkward and a waste of money.”
No, no, no, no, mom no! I paused my game, dropped my controller on my bed, and stormed out of my room. My sister followed shortly behind me, sniffing out drama like a German Sheppard. She was a goddamn nuisance and the reason I envy only-childs. After running down the stairs and bolting to the kitchen, I caught my mom whispering into the phone. She quickly caught a glance of me and hung up the phone just as fast.
“Who were you on the phone with?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
My mom smiled a fake smile, swatting her hand like she tried to swat the topic away. I raised my eyebrows.
“No one,” She laughed, “don’t worry about it.”
“I hate surprise parties, mom. Don’t invite anyone. Ok? I mean, I appreciate it and stuff, but just don’t—“
“STEPHANIE! YOU TOLD HIM?”
And thus, a three-way argument began. Everyone was yelling at everyone, for all different reasons. I couldn’t seem to keep track of who had accused me and who I was currently angry at. At one point, my mom wagged her finger at me so many times that it could last me a lifetime.
"What do you mean? Why can't I invite Braden? He's your best--"
"Why did you ruin the surpise?"
"NO ONE HATES SURPRISES! You're just spoiled children, that's all. Spoiled rotten."
"Do I embarrass you?"
After everything was said and done, and a few stomps and door slams later; I was back in my room, staring at a faded TV screen.
I noted what Fisher would say if I called him right now and told him what had just happened. He’d be doing something he shouldn’t, like smoking pot or playing Scrabble with people online. In his stupid, nonchalant voice he’d say, “Dude, that royally sucks. But check this out…” and he’d continue to fill me in on his misadventures of his day.
If I called Danny, it wouldn’t be much different. I’d whine about my mom and her stubborn nature when it came to materialistic birthday parties, and Danny would laugh through the phone speaker and say, “You think you’ve got it back? My dad the other day…” and then continue to fill me in on his misadventures of his day.
If I called Cliff, he wouldn’t really say anything. He wasn’t one to call, rather than text. If I did text him though (which I never liked because it required much more effort than just calling), he’d probably give me a playlist to listen to or an inspiration quote to copy and paste. I guess the only good thing about talking to Cliff is that he’ll listen more than talk, which means the misadventures of Owen Bonner get to be heard.
It sucked, yeah, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I was alone, yes, but not lonely. I was independent, individual; no one goes to school to make friends, anyways. It’s a requirement of the law, a horrible obligation; no one wrote in the rule book that you need companions to weigh you down.
I was fine playing Fallout 3 by myself. I was fine eating crummy cafeteria food by myself. I was fine having to partner up with Lucas Zaragoza out of default and ending up doing the work by myself. I was fine.
I heard another set of knocks at my door. It was my sister, again.
“Hey! Rufus threw up! It’s your turn to clean up the puke!”
Yup, I was fine.
A/N: I really don't know what to do with this story, but sorry there aren't frequent updates. I might just end up editing the heck out of it, but I don't know if I want to be that committed. Shrug.
YOU ARE READING
The Misadventures of Owen Bonner
Teen Fiction❝I swear, people are the cause of cancer.❞
