WP EXCLUSIVE | old/unedited | #1 in freetheboy, traumacore, boyscrytoo, and cynicism | Genre(s): realistic, psychological, new adult fiction.
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Eighteen-year-old Tyler Petrit is tired. He's tired of his drug-addicted father always blaming him f...
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"I'm telling you, Blind Melon is garbage," Gio reiterates.
"You listen to Counting Crows, they sound basically the same. You need to diversify your music taste," Alaska says, digging around our fast food bag.
"All Tyler ever listens to is Nirvana, same four albums over and over, sometimes Soul Asylum if I'm lucky. Tell him to diversify." Gio tosses his burger wrapper at me. "And he never gave me my Queen CD back."
"That's not true," I retort. "I have Radiohead and Mazzy Star in the box somewhere. Prolly lost your CD down the side of your bed. It's like an abyss. Anything that falls down there mysteriously disappears forever."
"Wait, if you're driving, shouldn't you have something to eat?"
I'm not touching that sludge factory with a ten foot pole. "Shut up, I ate before we left."
He shoves fries at me, but I ignore him. I didn't grab the fucking scale, so I'm avoiding everything until I can buy a new one. It's the first stop. I want to stay behind the wheel at all costs, too, just because I know I won't get lost. I can be in control.
Alaska puts in one of my Hootie and the Blowfish CDs. "See? Different."
Gio rolls his eyes. "No. Lame. This makes me want to fucking sleep. I want that hardcore shit." He ejects the CD and surfs through the box. Instead of distracting me with fries, he distracts me with fucking Facelift by Alice in Chains and five hundred questions about where the hell we're going.
If I possess any talent at all, it's being able to switch out music while staying focused on the road. I'm also good at avoiding questions and pointing out strip clubs instead, as if I'd go to any of them.
"Ah, yes, if I were on my way across the fucking country, the first place I'd stop is a fucking Target," Gio says sarcastically. "I'm getting a pretzel while you guys do...whatever."
"You just had two cheeseburgers. Are you insane?" I ask.
"Tell your anorexia that I'm too emotionally strong for its bullshit."
"I'll give you a pass because your parents are shit and I know you're still pissed at them."
Alaska decides to go with Gio, which means I can get my scale and pay before either of them have a chance to stop me. I pick up a cheap bathroom scale, buy it, and chuck it underneath my seat in the car. Gio and Alaska don't show up until I'm three songs deep into Facelift.
"Gio's got a whole ass set up. You're gonna have to move your seat," Alaska calls. I almost don't believe her, but Gio heaves a fucking grease fest into the back.
He starts going to town on some shitty pizza and says, "I'm stress eating. Don't judge me."
Alaska smirks. "What could you be stressed about? You're the most carefree person ever."
