The Misadventures of Owen Bonner

Chapter Seven

        There are many things I hate that Fisher does, and one of them is when he decides to be serious for once. Fisher and I have one thing in common; we don't give a shit. But Fisher takes the more optimistic approach while I'm on the completely different side of the spectrum. And it honestly sucks when Fisher finally decides to give a shit, because then I'm left with no one.

        It was a Thursday afternoon when Fisher decided to give a shit, actually. The school day had just ended and I was packing my backpack to go home. I had to take my biology and geometry textbooks home, so my backpack managed to weigh an amount my athletically-challenged arms could not endure for long periods of time. Just as I was about to close my locker, though, Fisher came up behind me and closed it. He laughed, thinking he had interrupted me and caused me a huge inconvenience of having to re-do my combination, but as I turned around and shoved my backpack in his face, he frowned.

        "Dude," He said as he followed my tail, "Screw the bus. My mom can pick us up today."

        I looked at him from the corner of my eye, "How come?"

        "Does it matter? Beats sitting with a bunch of big-ego sophomores."

        I couldn't disagree, so I followed Fisher to the other side of the school where his mom would pick us up. There were a couple people, but they were all waiting by the doors inside considering it was that chilly, autumn weather and most of them were still in summer clothing. I didn't really care, I was wearing a grey hoodie and jeans. Fisher, of course, was wearing a long-sleeve blue flannel and khaki shorts, the epitome of modern day pop punk. But he wasn't sensitive to the cold, so we both decided to wait outside. It was quiet and windy, which definitely beat the bus any day. We sat against a pillar and crossed our legs over chipped pavement. A couple birds flew above us, probably thinking it was around the time they needed to get out and fly South. I think it'd be nice to be a bird, to be able to leave simply because the place didn't suit you anymore.

        "Can I ask you something?" Fisher suddenly said while messing around with a pack of cigarettes. I always hated those, cigarettes and smokers are a bunch of morons. They pay a company to slowly kill them when life does that for free. Bunch of morons, I swear.

        "Probably." I answered, finding his question absolutely stupid.

        "Are you okay?"

        I don't think I can express how much hate I have for those three words. There is no word that is more ambiguous and confusing than the word "okay" and Jesus Christ, I hate it. Okay? What do you mean "okay"? People have all sorts of definitions for it. I, personally, think being okay is being able to get through the day. To be able to walk into those double doors and not want to kill yourself after first period. To be able to put on a face that will satisfy people even if it's as fake as they come. To be able to restrain yourself from ripping out someone's throat when they ask you a stupid question. If you can do that, I think you're okay. But I wasn't going to answer Fisher's question like this; like hell I would. It would just cause more problems than it would solve, and I really didn't feel like talking about it.

        "That's a stupid question," I answered, bluntly.

        "Then just answer the stupid question."

        "I don't even get what you're asking."

        Fisher took a long sigh and fidgeted more with a cigarette between his fingers. The bastard probably forgot his lighter at home.

        "You've just, I don't know, changed. Like, remember elementary school? Remember that? You were so cool because you didn't give a shit whether or not people liked you or ruined things for you. You just, kinda, did your own thing to make yourself happy. If the kids kicked you out of the monkey bars, you'd come up with a better game by the field. Remember that? You didn't give a shit, but you did it in a cool way. Then middle school happened, and you still didn't give a shit, but you just replied to everything sarcastically. It wasn't as cool, but it was funny as hell and you laughed. Remember? Now... now you just don't give a shit about anything. You don't read anymore, or write, or get excited about anything, really. You're just mad all the time and you don't talk but when you do it's something cynical. It's not cool or funny anymore, it's just... sad."

        I didn't want to listen anymore, or talk for that matter. I was tired. Or bored. I can't tell the difference some times. People are just so exhausting. And I wished Fisher would just light that cigarette so I'd have a reason to hate him more and call him a moron, but he didn't, so I didn't. Instead, I just sat in silence and watched the birds fly away. It wasn't comfortable silence, either, and Fisher continued to play with the unlit cigarette in his palm.

        "I'm not changing," I finally said once I found my voice, "It's everyone else. Everyone else is changing, not me. You're changing. The birds are changing. Jesus Christ, no one will stay still. It pisses me off."

        I heard Fisher sigh, which was enough to tip me over. I grabbed my backpack, finding it even heavier than before, and slung it over my shoulder. Fisher quickly scrambled to stand up once he saw me leaving.

        "Where are you going?" He asked, following me.

        "To the library. I'll wait for the activities' bus."

        "Oh, fuck you, Owen. Really, fuck you. I was trying to help, dude."

        What a bastard.

        "Well, no one asked you to, moron!"

        "Fine, whatever," I heard him mutter from behind. His footsteps stopped following mine and I entered the building alone. The kids were still huddled by the door, most of them were on their phones and weren't aware of anything happening around them. I could run butt-naked through here and I'd be mere dust in their eye. Morons.

        I walked into the pathetic, high school library that's a disgrace to all school libraries. But I guess that's what you get when you invest all the school's budget on TVs for a gigantic weight room. The school board is full of morons, I swear. I walked in and saw the pathetic shelves with pathetic books on them. They were all either cliché as fuck or titles too unknown that they weren't at all interesting. None of the books seemed to interest me, and it bothered me a lot.

        Another thing that bothered me was the weight on my shoulders, so I took off my backpack, threw it on an empty table, and sat down. I had homework I could do, but I didn't have the motivation to care. So I just laid my head on my arms and sat there in silence for a while. I closed my eyes then and began to drift away. I was just so goddamn tired. 

A/N: I don't know what to put in these. Cheers. - Parker