Ten | newtmas

fifty two

I'm taking the bus home from school today because my father is working and my mother has friends over. Being on the bus is basically as annoying as I remembered it, but since I'm a senior that nobody really knows, I'm pretty much left alone.

    The last time I was on a bus, I was with Thomas. Obviously that day sucked, but I do treasure that memory. Everything Thomas-related from that day, actually. He saved me from that car, and now I'm really glad he did. A year ago, I'm not sure I would have said the same.

    It hits me that if I keep up with my recovery, I might actually be able to drive eventually. I haven't even been able to consider that until now. At this point, pretty much everyone in my grade has their license. It'd be nice to join the club and put even less on my parents.

    When I get home, there are cars in the driveway that don't belong to us. I notice that one of them is in my father's usual spot, and it makes me nervous. If he gets home before they leave, we'll be hearing about that. But at least it's not something I did this time. Our relationship has improved, I think. Enough that I no longer believe he hates me.

    I walk in, trying to survey how I'm feeling. It's Friday, so I have three days until I see Dr. Rachel again, and she asked me to keep track of everything I feel over the week on the new medication. Quite honestly, aside from one or two side effects, I'm doing well. The thing I've noticed a lot is a decrease in paranoia, and it's making it easier not to do my tens. It's like I'm finally realizing that they won't actually do anything for me.

    My mother and her friends are sitting at the table, all with cups in their hands and talking. They turn to look at me, and I just look back awkwardly. The medication hasn't magically made me good at socializing, unfortunately.

    "Newt, come sit down for a minute," Mom says. "I'll get you your medication."

    I can't use the "I have homework" excuse seeing as it's now the weekend, plus I really do need to take my medication. So I just resign to the fact that there's no getting out of this. Maybe I can just sit there for a minute, then pretend I need to make a call or take a nap or something else parents would find acceptable.

    There are four other ladies, including Teresa's mother. I sit at the head of the table after putting my backpack on the couch and pretend to be extremely interested in watching my mother get my medication.

    "How was school, Newt?" Teresa's mom asks.

    I force a smile. "It was fine."

    "We're so glad to hear that," another woman—whose name has completely escaped me by now—chimes in.

    "Thanks," I say. It's nice that this practical stranger was concerned about my wellbeing. My mom is filling a cup with water now, and I'm relieved to see it.

    "We were just talking about you and what a good kid you are." I think this other woman's name is Carol or something.

    "Such a good kid," Teresa's mother speaks up again. My face is red already. I've never liked attention.

    Carol or something continues. "I think you and my daughter would get along great," she starts. I almost laugh until I hear the rest of her sentence. "She's a bit younger—she turned sixteen last month—but she just came out to me as bi. I was just telling your mother about it."

    My mom walks in now and puts my medication down in front of me on the table. I just look up at her, not moving. She told Teresa's mother; fine. I wasn't thrilled, but I haven't said anything. But now she's making me a group topic and I'm being recommended friends based off the fact that we both are attracted to the same sex? Seriously?