You're name is Tavros Nitram;

And you're a nervous wreck

It all started five years ago, when your father died in a motorcycle accident. Your mother died in labor with you, so your dad made it a point to spend as much time with you as possible. Every Sunday the two of you would ride his motorcycle, and explore the scenic back roads of your neighborhood. One day, you were cruising along a back road when a truck going way too fast pulled out of a hidden driveway and hit you. The truck sent you, your dad, and the motorcycle flying. The motorcycle ended up lading on top of you severing both of your legs badly. You remember how your dad crawled his way over to you, and held your hand while waiting for the ambulance. He died in the hospital from traumatic brain injury. Both of your legs where amputated from below the keen. Your Grandmother was right beside you in the hospital during your recovery, and helped pay for the amputation and physical therapy. You have been living on her farm ever since, hoping to work off what you owe her; your life.

Today seemed like any other summer morning. You woke up early, did some of your daily chores, and then sat down to breakfast with your Grandmother and uncle.

Your uncle was your father's younger brother. He was a big, tall, burly man; quiet the opposite of your father's slender build. Unlike his brother, when he was done with high school he stayed back on the farm to help his mother. He keeps insisting every year that as soon as your Grandmother was stable enough with out him, he would get a real job and settle down with a nice lady. That "dream" gets pushed back further and further every year.

On a normal morning your uncle would be sitting at the table reading the newspaper, while your grandmother fiddled at the stove fixing breakfast for the three of you. But today was different. When you walked in both your grandmother and uncle were sitting at the table waiting for you. You walked over to the table and asked what was up. "Tavros" your grandmother asked cautiously "how would you feel about going to school?" Your throat tightened, "s-school? Like uh normal school?" "Yeah Oakland High School. It's just a couple miles south of here Tav. You would take the bus, you could join a club, or even do a sport if you'd like. Doesn't that sound fun?"

Fun? Since when was school fun for you? All through out elementary school you were teased and bullied. Your Grandmother had been homeschooling you ever since the motorcycle accident. Why the change?

"Why? You homeschooling me has been fine." Before your Grandmother could answer, your uncle stood up. "For Pete sakes Tav we need your Grandma workin on the farm!" "Bob!" "No Ma, Tavros needs to learn how to handle the truth. He's a man now." There was an uneasy silence in the room. Your eyes were beginning to sting; you hated it when your uncle yelled at you. You clenched your jaw and thought to yourself "Don't cry. Don't cry. What ever you do don't cry god damn it!" "Could you please try it Tav, just for a year?" It irked you when your Grandmother talked to you like that; that innocent, pleading voice. You could never say no. You sighed seeing no other choice and nodded. "Great! I'll register you tomorrow morning."

Fast forward two hours and there you were, the present moment, being a nervous wreck. Your Grandmother made you in charge of running the farm stand at the end of your street. It's an okay job; you just want to do your part on the farm. You were fumbling in the cash register trying to figure out this lady's change. You were terrible at math. "Come on kid I don't have all day." "S-sorry miss." you murmured as you handed her what you thought was the right amount of change. She gave you a are you serious look. "You're short one dollar." "Oh…sorry about that." She didn't seem very amused and left in a huff. The gentleman right behind her approached and placed his items on the counter. "10.45$ please." He gave you eleven dollars and you back to fumbling in the register. "Here you go si- whoops!" clank clink The change went crashing to the floor. "Sorry! H-here let me uh give you-" "Forget it! Keep the change." he growled as he left the shed. You bent down and picked up the fallen change and put it back in the register. You sat down and slammed your head on the counter. "Oh god, how could this day get any worse?"

Just then a load screeching of tires came from outside the stand. You peeked out the window to see a beat up pickup truck parked outside. The door popped open, and a cloud of smoke poured out along with a tall lanky kid. You ducked behind the window, "ohgod ohgod ohgod ohgod why did it have to be a druggie!?" The stranger stepped into the shed, and looked around. He began surveying all the fruits and vegetables, then smiled when his eyes landed on you. "Sup bro?" "Hey" you muttered, trying to find something behind the counter to keep you busy. You didn't want it to look like you were staring at him. The boy's smile widened as if this was the first time someone had actually responded to him. He turned his back toward you picking up different items and inspecting them. You looked behind the magazine you were holding and began to study him, trying to figure out who exactly this guy was.

He was wearing some beat up some beat up black skinny jeans, and a purple zip up hoodie. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and you could see some tattoo designs poking out on both arms giving you the impression that his arms were covered on them. His face was covered in black and white clown makeup, which made you wondered if there was a carnival in town or he was just one of those weirdoes who wore it daily. He had a thick black mop of curly hair that went every which way imaginable. He had a single black lip ring I the corner of the right side of his lip, ad several piercings in the edges of both of his ears.

He turned around, and you went back behind the magazine. He approached with his items; tomatoes, basil, and cilantro. He reeked of a smoky sent you couldn't figure out. Cigarettes? No, your uncle's friends smoke and the whole house fills with that disgusting smell, this was different. Marijuana? You wouldn't know. You had never really seen it let alone knew what it smelled like.

"5.00$ please" He went searching in each of his pockets for his wallet, and then finally found it in his back pants pocket. He triumphantly pulled it out with a big smile on his face, proud of his find. The two of you seemed to lock eyes when he handed you the money. Behind the glazed, bloodshot look, this kid had the bluest eyes you'd very seen. They would probably be brighter had he not been smoking. You nodded and mumbled thanks as you put the money in the register. "No motherfuckin way." he whispered. "Excuse me?!" you squeaked, afraid you had given him the wrong change as well. "The Mirthful Messiahs!" he boomed with excitement as he pointed at your shirt. You looked down; you had forgotten that you were wearing your favorite band shirt, The Mirthful Messiahs. "Yeah, you a fan?" "A fan?" he chuckled as he unzipped his hoodie, revealing the same only much dirtier band shirt. "I'm a huge fan! They're having a concert in a couple months, you goin?" "Yeah maybe." You laughed nervously.

There was no way you'd actually go. You barley had enough money as it was, not to mention you'd never go into the city b yourself. Maybe some day you'd go, but that day was not coming anytime soon. You'd say anything at this point just to get this guy to leave. You were too emotionally exhausted for petty socializing.

"Wicked bro! Maybe I'll see you there. Thanks for the veggies." "Yeah, h-h-have a good day." You stuttered as he bounced out of the shed and into his truck. You slammed your head back on the counter. You checked your watch, and sighed "Only two hours until she gets here." Those two hours couldn't get here soon enough; you had so much to tell her.