Connor flung open his bedroom door, noticing the sudden change in temperature. Where Connor's room was icily cold, the rest of his house pleasantly warm and hospitable. Everything was in its place. Connor's mother, Cynthia, tried her hardest to make the house look as if the family within it wasn't falling apart.
He slinked down the stairs to the dining room, plopped himself in a chair, and rested his sleep-deprived head on the table. His dad and Zoe were already eating breakfast at the table. Connor's dad, Larry, was on his computer, probably doing something important for work. What was Larry's job again? Connor couldn't be bothered to remember.
"You only have about fifteen minutes before you need to be at school. It's your senior year Connor! You cannot miss the first day!" Cynthia pleaded with Connor. He lifted his head sleepily.
"We talked about this last night. I already said I'd go tomorrow. I'm trying to find a compromise here," Connor huffed, then dropped his head back on the table.
"You going to get involved? Or are you to busy on your email, Larry?" Cythina berated Larry. She was trying so hard to keep this family together. Larry never seemed to care about his children; he was always so focused on work.
"You have to go to school, Connor," Larry said dutifully.
"That's all you're going to say?" Cynthia asked stonily.
"What more do you want me to say? He's not listening. Look at him. He's not listening. He's probably high," Larry said. Connor scowled at the tablecloth. Little did Larry know how wrong he was. Connor wasn't high today. He tried to only smoke when everything was too overwhelming, and he didn't want to accidentally embarrass himself at school.
"He's definitely high," Zoe commented in between bites.
"Fuck you!" Connor said, his sister's words bothering him more than his parents'.
"Fuck you!" she responded.
"I do not need you picking at your brother. That is not constructive!" Cynthia said, desperately hoping to keep her family civil.
"Are you kidding?" Zoe said.
"Besides, he's not high," said Cynthia, ignoring Zoe's comment. Connor looked up at his sister, pretending to be guilty and disjointed. He would pretend anything to get out of school. Cynthia let out an exasperated sigh.
"I do not want you going to school high, Connor! We talked about this!" Cynthia's voice raised in pitch as she became more frustrated.
"Oh perfect, so then I won't go," Connor's voice dripped with sarcasm. He got up from the table. He realized Cynthia had yet to sit down because she was trying so hard to meet everyone's demands. "Thanks, mom!" he said stiffly, trying to show her at least a little kindness before he stormed back to his room.
He curled up in a ball on his bed, desperately fighting the urge to hurt himself, the urge to smoke weed, the urge to do something to kill the empty anger inside him. He bit his lip as he felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. A few tears escaped out of his eyes.
"If Connor's not ready I'm leaving without him," he overheard Zoe say downstairs.
Connor sighed and wiped the tears out of his eyes. He should probably go to school today. Who knows if he would even be around for the rest of the school year? He grabbed his satchel (not a man purse as several kids at school had commented, no, laughed) and walked to the garage, catching his mother smile proudly at him as he walked by. He sat in the passenger seat and buckled himself in. He stared at the garage door until Zoe came through it.
Zoe opened the driver's side door, scowling at Connor.
"Oh my God you really are high, aren't you," she commented, noticing Connor's red eyes. She turned on the ignition and pulled out of the garage. Connor wasn't about to tell her that his eyes were red with tears, not the weed she assumed he had inhaled.
"You bet, dear sister. I'm surprised you would even notice. You're so perfect and proper, I didn't expect you to know what to look for," Connor said sarcastically.
"You're high all the time, so I just look at you and then look at the rest of the world and then ta-da, I know what someone who's high looks like," Zoe retorted calmly.
"Of course. I'm high all the time," Connor snarled.
"Well, maybe except for the times that you're banging on my door screaming at me that you hate me," Zoe shouted back at him. "You seem to be completely sober when you do that!"
Connor sat in silence, ignoring Zoe's comment. She was right. He took his frustration at the world out on her completely sober, blaming all his problems on her. He wanted to tell her everything he felt. He felt like nobody could hear him, so he ended up shouting at her. He didn't know how to tell her how angry he was at the world without making her stand in the crossfire.
