The bad boy, the best friend, and the nerd.

Chapter Twelve

Amy's P.O.V





 The next week goes as it usually does.



Brandon is still sweet.



Lysander is still clumsy.



Ben is still trying to get laid.



And I’m still annoyed.



Surprisingly when Brandon isn’t home Lysander is a good resource to use when I’m trying to avoid getting bored. Although he claims that he has officially retired from dart tag I can still beat his ass in Call Of Duty. I also dominate when we play-



“Uno!” I scream throwing my last card down.



“I don’t understand why you say uno even after you’ve won,” Lysander says rocking back and forth.



“That’s how my parents taught me to play,” I shrug.



“Well it’s weird.”




“They were weird people.”




“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to them?”



It’s not what happened.



It’s who happened.



I happened….



“I’d really rather not answer that,” I roll off the side of the bed and start walking off towards that door.



Lysander is technically staying in the guest room but if anyone were to see it you’d think it was actually his room. There are rows upon rows of books lining the walls and tons of posters hanging on the walls. Mostly band posters.




“Amy,” Lysander whines running up behind me, “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it it’s fine.”




I nod and he slings his arm around me shoulder.




-.-.-.-.-.-.-




When Lysander isn’t there and Brandon is off and about and Bethany can’t hang out that leaves me with nothing but myself. These are the days that I try to avoid the most because when I have no one else to talk to that leaves me with nothing to do but think. And when I’m in my own head for too long it gets hard to not think bad thoughts.




About my parents.

　

　

　

About my so-called friends.

　

　

　

About my uncle….




I start thinking about the countless times my uncle had made fun of my weight. Every time he’d catch me in the kitchen he’d always call me something along the lines of fat ass or fat slut or some other third thing.




I stand up and walk into Brandon’s bathroom. I walk over to his scale and step on top of it. It’s literally been ages since I’ve stepped foot on one of these things. I wait patiently as I watch the numbers continue to go up, hating every second of it. Finally the numbers stop, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.




146.3 lbs.



Damn, I’ve let myself go.


I thought I was at least below 110, obviously I’ve let myself slip.




Finally after what feels like hours I hear the door slamming downstairs and Brandon yelling my name as an indication that indeed, he has arrived. I step off the scale and slowly walk towards the door only to be jumped on when I step into the hallway.




“Hey,” Brandon says smiling down at me as he pushes me up against the wall, “mommy and daddy have finally decided they wanna come home and check in on their little baby boy. Get presentable. They’ll be here in half an hour,” he kisses my cheek and takes off skipping towards the bathroom.



Sometimes I question his straightness.



But besides that, what the hell am I supposed to do in half an hour?




“I got you a dress,” Brandon sings sticking his head out of the bathroom door, “Ly’s parents are coming too. The dress is on the kitchen table.” Before I can protest he shuts the bathroom door belting out the lyrics to “Bang Bang.”