By My Side

Keep Writing

I go to lunch, and sit with my good friends, Morgan and Haley. Morgan is a short, nerdy girl with glasses, and she's like a sister to me. She's always been there for me since we became friends. Unlike my joke of a family, she actually supports my writing.

Morgan has long brown hair, fair skin, and always wears a purple jacket that makes her easy to find in a crowd. She's the one I run all my ideas by. Even romance ones despite the fact she's completely aromantic.

My other "sister" is Haley, she's a bit more on the husky side, at least when she stands next to me and Morgan. She has short brown hairs, wears glasses and striped shirts, and is also very kind. She's the more emotional of the two. She's basically the one I go to for love advice and stuff like that. I can't go to my parents because they're just assholes, and Shawn doesn't talk about his love life, but from what I've seen between him and his girlfriend, he's really awkward.

I tell them about how I got sick. They both give me a concerned look.

"What the Hell are you doing here?" Haley asks.

"You think I wanna stay home? Never!" I reply.

"You really should," Haley replies, "it's clear you're sick."

"I'd rather be sick here then sick there," I retort, "anyways, can you look at a chapter for a new novel I started?"

"Sure," Haley replies as I hand her my phone.

As she reads, I lay my head down and try to get a little sleep. After she reads it, Haley asks, "is this guy based on yourself?"

"What?" I ask, "no. Look, I'm to tired for this, so wake me in, like, ten minutes."

I doze off for a few minutes until lunch ends. I don't eat most I my lunch, worried I'll lose my lunch. I head to my next class with Haley, trying my best to offer her advice on the love triangle she's caught in. (Even though we both know she's asking the wrong guy.)

While my life is dull as Hell, hers is a God damn soap opera. You'd be surprised the sort of situations she's gotten herself into. She's not even the type of girl to date a bunch of guys. She's actually pledged to the whole no sex until marriage thing. She's very religious. These things just happen to her. I try to help best I can, but my advice isn't worth much. I haven't even had my first kiss yet, so, when it comes to her predicaments, I'm no help at all.

As the teacher talks, I begin to feel like writing, knowing I'll have to go home soon, and deal with my family. I have only two more classes until that happens. My heart begins to pound in my chest and I begin to tap my fingers on the table before the teacher finally shuts up and gives us our worksheets. I finish mine quickly, and immediately start working on one of my other novels, besides the one I was writing earlier. After finishing a chapter, I calm down, and relax. I keep writing anyways.

Another chapter later, class ends, and I begin towards my last class, where I sit next to Haley and Morgan. I talk to them as class winds down and the day ends. As I walk out into the Spring sun, I cling my jacket. I have no idea why I'm so attached to this thing, but I am. There's probably some reason for it, but I don't know what it is. As I walk slowly to the car, I pass by one of my other friends, one who likes Leo, and the books.

He's a husky guy with glasses, super nerdy (that's a trend with them isn't it?). Cool dude. We tend to hang out before first period. However, I didn't get the chance to speak to him today. What's his name? It's Caleb. I high five Caleb and offer a friendly greeting that he returns in kind. After speaking to him briefly, I continue to my car.

Immediately my mom greets me and Shawn with aggression.

"Shut the fuck up!" A voice in my head roars.

I say nothing.

After writing on the drive home, I go inside, wearing my jacket still.

"Take that jacket off," my mother, or, actually, I'm gonna call her what she is, Bitchy, demands with intense anger and hostility.

"You could've asked nicely," I reply.

"No!" She yells, "stuff like that is why we're getting you checked for anger management!"

"And you're perfect you bitchy white trash!?!" My voice struggles to escape.

I say nothing.

I quickly dash outside. I've found places to hide from them at home, safe, secure, places to write. Even if I'm moving out of this house soon, to one just down the street, this places are more valuable to me than any possession I have. Except my notebooks. Those have years of work in them.

The first place is a bit closer to the house, just up the hill and around the shrubs to the left of the damnable place. Out of sight, out of mind. I sit down in the grass and start writing, the enraged voices calm, until there I peace in my head once more. I come inside to charge my phone, to write more later at a more secluded spot, a safer spot, and eat dinner.

The next few hours are uneventful, until, while working on my math homework, I get nauseous again.

"Don't you fucking dare," a voice says, "we can't stay here. OK? Keep it down, and stop eating that popcorn!"

I look at the popcorn on the side of the desk. Tasty, buttery...

I look down at my rib cage, and remember that I do need to lose just a couple of pounds. Not a lot, just a little...

I keep eating the popcorn with intense guilt. I think I'm gonna be sick.

"Now you've done it!" The voice yells, "you're gonna have to stay home now!"

No, nononono. I'll just head up to my spot. If I vomit there, it'll be fine. I desperately flee uphill from my house to the spot, the spot I'll lose in a week when we move, but I'll find a new one. The spot is a safe place, and I love it there. I begin towards my spot, where I'll be able to clear my head and, if I do get sick, it won't be an issue...