The Donut Shop ✔️

'G' Stands for 'Graphic Novels'

Ethan's dad left home on a Saturday, three days after Ethan came out and two after the bakery was set for destruction by Red. His father leaving was like someone jabbed their fingers into an open wound that hadn't quite healed. 

He didn't come to school for a few days, and when he returned on the eve of the dance, all of his friends were bustling to get the dance prepped. They hardly noticed his presence. Not that he minded. He could care less about socializing, or even talking.

Disinterestedly, he plucked plumes out of the painted words of one of the banners. Apparently while he was gone, one of the freshmen switched on a floor fan and scattered a cloud of feathers they were using for the lanterns into the air. The pale pink feathers settled on the wet paint of the paper, and they needed someone to help de-feather the blue banner. 

Picking at the feathers, he barely noticed when feet approached him, encased in beat-up, checkered Vans.

"Hey, E, Mara and I are heading to the park after we're done here. Do you wanna come?" Ethan shook his head. He overheard them saying they were planning something in the park to cheer him up. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone. 

"I'm good. I'm busy after school," Ethan said as he continued picking at the feathers, but Tweed was more insistent.

"C'mon, it'll be fun! We can go watch birds, walk around, eat ice cream," Tweed said, clearly hoping that Ethan would change his mind. Ethan was adamant and shook his head more furiously this time.

"Why would we go to eat ice cream in November when it's so close to winter?" he asked his friend as he stood. Tweed stuttered for an explanation, but Ethan shoved the poster into his arms.

"I'm going home. Have fun on your date with Mara," he told him and began walking to the door. As he passed Oliver, who was stringing up fairy lights, he avoided the boy's gaze as he burst through the gym doors. He ignored the metal click of the door closing behind him. 

Why would Tweed and Mara even want him to be the third wheel on their date? Didn't they find him as miserable as possible? 

He trudged through the warm pre-winter air. When he was a little boy, he wished that he lived somewhere that had snow. Now that he was older and less delusional, he was grateful for the hot Arizona weather. It made his not having a car easier to bear with. 

Ethan walked out of the mostly-clear parking lot and down the street. His breath came out in even, dull strokes, and he waltzed past houses with rich green winter lawns. The occasional tree he passed had one or two leaves that turned an orange rust color, but other than that, everything was as vibrant as ever. Stupid Arizona couldn't even get his sad winter montage right!

He tried to tell himself that he didn't care about anything anymore to try to stop feeling, tried to tell himself that he didn't care about the bakery, Oliver, or his dad, but the more he thought about them, the more inflated he felt. He needed to expel some of the pent-up rage he had. 

As he stalked down the alley of streets that forked into their own divisions of neighborhoods, Ethan thought of how odd it was, how everyone lived such separate lives, how no one but him and Tweed cared about the bakery. All of the people in these neighborhoods lived so close, yet they were so disconnected. It was like all of them lived on their own private island. 

Coming up his driveway, Ethan jiggled the key in the lock, the door swinging open. He flung his shoes, his bag, and his coat to the ground, feeling the sudden weight of everything on him, crushing and suffocating him like a huge boulder.

He crouched into a kimchi squat right there and buried his face into his hands, letting out a primal cry. His mother came rushing around the corner in confusion, and when she spotted her son, she lifted him up, asking him what was wrong in Chinese. He couldn't answer, couldn't find the words to say, so instead, he just cried.