Explaining my friendship with George would be pretty impossible. For starters, we had completely different personalities. Don't get me wrong, we were both feisty but I often found myself flustered with his abruptness. I knew when to swallow my thoughts, to keep things to myself, where as George just said whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Maybe that's because he's never had anyone telling him he needed to be quiet. Generally, everything about us was different, all areas and aspects of our lives on separate ends of the spectrum, which seemed strange to me. Sometimes I wondered if we even liked each others company, truly, as we sit in his car listening to music not looking at each other. Our friendship just seems so unlikely, even to me. That makes it hard to digest. I can't fully understand our pull towards each other and how we end up spending so much time together.
The next month consists of me becoming very familiar with the inside of his car and, yes, George's house. While we sit silently in the car, in his house it's another story completely. We don't sit nicely in comfortable silence watching movies on the weekend. Most of the time, when we're alone, we're talking, eating, or sleeping. By pushing everyone away, I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have a friend. We spent time together, doing everything and nothing, we took it in turns to pay for food, he drives us everywhere, I speak whenever we order a takeaway, and, most of all, we talk. However, there are some topics we avoid: my mother, his parents, and his violence which I have only witnessed once. Other than that, everything is put on the table with no shame. I mean, this guy had seen me cry so there was very little shame left to be had. Even though we respect each other's privacy, I know we're both itching to ask about the forbidden three. Well, I know I am! I wanted to know why he lived alone, who paid for everything, and who that Walter guy was? I could only imaging the questions George had about my mother.
As well as my own confusion, I have to also deal with dad's apprehensiveness. At first, he sees our connection as something more than friendship but, after finding out that we fall asleep on two separate sofas whenever we have a movie night, I can see him warming up to the friendship. Instead of scowling at George when he picks me up, dad invites him in for some breakfast or offers us to stay in our house rather than travel to George's. More often than not, dad is in work so I'm not sure he realises the magnitude of our friendship but it's definitely moving in the right direction.
As I walk home from the shop - I had to get some bits for my school lunch and dad was in work - I wonder how we have managed to not drive each other insane. Since my birthday weekend, we hadn't really gotten into any heated arguments or disagreements. Did we bicker? absolutely. Did I always win? definitely.
When I take a left, turning down a familiar alley, the silence engulfs me. When I get further into the alley, further away from the main road, a choking sound arises. At first, I wonder if someone was coughing or choking on something but when I turn the corner, my eyes widen at the truth. Against the wall is a man with a very red face being held by two strong arms at the neck. Well, that explains the choking noise. Through the sounds the red man makes, the man holding him remains silent watching as the victim becomes more and more red. Surrounding them is a handful of men, saying nothing and acting like a barrier, watching the scene with unbothered expressions. Oh, gosh. Absentmindedly, my feet move backwards knowing I needed to escape this situation as I keep a careful watch on the scene and, more specifically, the men.
And then a tin can happens. A tin can moved by my retreating feet causes their eyes to snap to my now-shaking frame. Now, this may seem like the worst part of my day but, oh no, fate wants to twist the knife in my gut.
Standing in front of me, holding red man to the wall, is none other than my friend George. My surprise is laughable, really, because I know what he's like. I know he's trouble. I know he's dangerous. I've heard all about him and I've even seen him in action and yet I am shaking, breath-taken, eyes widened shocked. I've heard all about him and yet I still befriended him. Was I that desperate for a friend?
YOU ARE READING
The Misunderstanding of Fate
Teen FictionAfter her mother abandons them, Luna and her father find themselves moving across the country. Being the new girl in a small town, Luna attempts to become a wallflower. She sits alone at lunch, spends her weekends with her dad, and tries her best to...
