Population Control

Matthew II

Acceptance - the act of assenting or believing.

0o0

After Camille sluggishly rolled out the car, Jason was next. When we were going to Jason's, a levelled silence settled amongst us, until Sam's parents called. His dad said - on loudspeaker - that he was in so much trouble, asking where he was, why he was on the news. With the look on Sam's face, it was like he was nervous to speak up to his parents. But he did, in the end, and his dad said to make sure he's home on time. I hung up because he was driving, and Sam let out a shaking breath after.

When Jason hopped out, we spent a detailed minute staring in awe at the mansion. I'd never been to the rich part of the city, and it is obnoxiously gorgeous. Think of the most positive opposite to a normal urban area. What I would give to live in a house like Jason's.

We drove off, and I couldn't stand the silence. I can barely stand silence as it is. Argo, I should learn to shut up. "So..." I said, swiping my hands on my thighs, like it will diffuse the attention. "How are you?" I cringed at myself. Concerned, he looked at me sideways like he was thinking Are you ok? Is something wrong with you? Should we get you a therapist? Nervously, I laughed (What the fuck, I never get nervous) "Stupid question." I really wished he would pick up the conversation now. What is wrong with me?

"What do you read?" Now it was my turn to look at him concerned sideways. I answered anyway with stuff like Marvel comics. Very enthusiastically, he replied with something called Broken Planet. He didn't stop talking about it for a while, so I sat and silently listened. Blushing profusely, he stopped himself mid-sentence and apologised. I said it was fine, and to make him feel better, went on a rant about this show that my parents are constantly talking about: on how they even owned a replica sword to the main black girl in the show.

"Why're you into football?" Asked Sam. "You just... you seem too nice." His cheeks set aflame, but I chuckled at him.

"My parents, they're officers. I was always getting picked up late from school in primary and these kids asked me if I wanted to play. It was a way to pass time, at first."

"My Mother would freak out when I came out with flushed cheeks." Sam added.

Our conversations drifted from one thing to another, ranging from our most embarrassing primary school stories to our favourite colour. It was just easy to talk to Sam. There was no expectation for me to be proper, or to be air-headed. I could just be me: even though we have spoken for like twenty minutes, I don't feel like I need to act a certain way.

My house was further away than everyone else's. Normally, my dad drops me off before he goes to work because my mum worked the night shifts, so she slept until around 10. Sometimes, I wondered if they ever had time together, and when I realised my parents were only human, I appreciated the time they set aside for me as a child. Never did I feel neglected or left out because they always had time for me.

When we pulled up on the road, my parent's cars weren't there. They must have been called out, what with everything happening. "Will you be okay on your own?" I asked, leaning against the rolled down window, my ears standing up in case the slightest sound was unordinary as I focused on the boy in front of me.

He smiled, although it was shaky, "I'll be fine, I'm protected, anyway." He gestured around him at the empty car.

"Just..." I stumbled for the right words, unsure how to phrase it, "text me when you're home." I probably should have added a please, or 'can you', but I didn't.

I took out my keys that were almost completely bare of key rings and unlocked the front door to step inside, seeing a replica on the living room wall first, just above the fireplace. Its sharp curve almost covering the whole wall looked like it was regularly sharpened, even though it had never been taken from its holders, only held by my mum and dad once, each. It was placed inside a bag thing that perfectly suffocated the frame, so it might have hurt as much if sliced with the bag on it. Mind you, it's probably made of, like, foam or something.