Chapter Two: Insensitivity
After hearing the bitter words slip from my mother's mouth, all I could do was panic at the thought of both of my parental figures staring down at me with senseless eyes and a forming disapproving snarl appearing on their stone cold faces. My heart started to palpitate and my nails started digging harshly into the skin of my arm, not realizing the marks it would leave behind or the small droplets of blood starting to make it's way to the surface. I looked cautiously at the silent closed door staring back at me with dread, and felt as my fingers tightened and my teeth grazing and biting down ever so harshly at my bottom lip and bits getting stuck uncomfortably in my braces. I still hadn't been used to the fact that I wasn't able to eat certain things, even if it had been close to two years of having them, and how they would sometimes be extremely annoying when brushing or flossing them to the point I would just not try as much at keeping them clean for the first month, maybe year, of having them. The only reason I had to get them was because my parents decided that my teeth weren't at 'Perfect standards' and I guess being punished with metal laced around every inch of your mouth and tightly secured around your teeth and them urking you every few minutes for the first couple months is better than having 'Not-so-perfect teeth'; Such a grand improvement.
I eased my grip slightly and moved my hands to my sides, staring intently at the markings my nails left behind and the blood flow making it's way back to the intensely gripped spot only leaving my mind to wander at what to do for this situation. I contemplated on whether or not I should just leave my parents waiting in the kitchen as I would just sneak out of the house or just face with whatever they had to say and get it over with; I decided to just walk into the kitchen, sit in front of them, and listen to the lecture. I walked over to some clothes I had taken out a few minutes before my mom knocked on my door and made her announcement and started to change out of my now distasteful pajamas and into freshly clean clothing, or at least clothing I'm most comfortable with and wear too often; A red and white baseball tee with rolled up jeans, clearly worn and faded from all the times I had decided to wear them to give you an exact description.
I shifted my bag slightly as it made it's final place on my back, but as I looked over to my desk I found that my papers were still scattered across it making my already unamused face more irritated at most. I walked over to it and placed the papers into my arms and the book I had been writing about in my free arm, sighing disapprovingly at myself while walking over to my barren and unscathed door with unwanted and disconcerting memories attached to it. I looked down at the handle and held in an annoyed breath to keep myself from becoming concerned with something as unimportant as a door handle that I wasn't able to use properly due to my arms and hands being occupied with other materials and possessions, so instead I bent over and down to have better access to the door and to steadily use my elbows to see if it could at least open the door slightly. After a few moments of struggling to open it up I finally saw the handle turn and I stumbled out, nearly dropping my papers and book onto the floor, along with me almost falling face first on the ground.
My dad heard the noises I had been making from my heavy steps colliding with the floor and decided to make his opinion stated. "Keith, come to the kitchen now. Me and your mother don't need you to dawdle around the house and avoid confrontation so stop being stubborn." I didn't give him a response and just adjusted myself once more only to make my way down the lifeless hallway filled with an obscure amount of family photos plastered on the walls that seemed to only feel like they were staring down at me with cold, disappointing eyes. Clutching the book closer to my chest I turned the corner and made my presence known by giving my parents a simple 'Morning' and walking over to the perfectly centered dining table that had my mother seated down at, holding a small glass in one hand and a book of some sort in the other. Glancing away from the unidentifiable book, she gave me a disapproving glare and then rested her cup slowly onto the table once my father eased his way into the open space, but he didn't give me a simple glance with unreasonable anger he simply just stared right through me as if I was nothing to him at that moment in time. It was more painful to recognize the fact that I understood the way they stared at me thinking I couldn't pinpoint what exactly was on their minds. "Keith, your school called two days ago with concern about your wellbeing in certain aspects that you aren't very comfortable with, such as socializing or you joining a type of group that could expand your- views." I let out a breath of relief when he wasn't angrily yelling at me, accusing me of fighting with other students or breaking something, false statements the school faculty had fed him once or twice during my span of being in school for two months.
"You should know by now, sweetheart, that you'll need to eventually liven up a bit once you enter high school. You can't be so consumed with yourself and the fruitless things you do in your spare time. We aren't so much worried about your education, we just feel as though you need to actually socialize with human beings." The anger in her voice was unable to be masked, she almost cursed me out but caught herself just in time before she had a meltdown. "Your mother is right, Keith, you need to be more concerned about your mental health. You can't be happy being alone all the time, being holed up in your room occupied by restless reading and working on countless homework that is downgraded compared to the intelligence you already have." He gave me a pitiful look as he stared me down once more, with my mother drinking from her pristine cup only glancing at me ever so often. "I don't want to deal with people right now. I just want to focus on school, and I'm busy with a book report at the moment, I don't need any kind of distraction." I removed myself from the conversation before either of them got another word into it and left out the door once I reached it, feeling a twist in my stomach and an unrecognizable numb feeling in my mind that I strangely felt familiarity to.
As I made my way to my bus stop, passing by the bleak and undifferentiated houses, feeling a trickle of water drop gently against my hand. 'I forgot an umbrella, great..' I chastised myself as I got closer and closer to my stop, but as I became familiar with my surroundings I noticed a taller boy leaning against the tattered and decrepit bench that stood solemnly and firm on the ground. I stopped in my tracks and felt my hands clam up at the sight of another person standing where I frequented for the past two years, my feet turned slightly inwards and towards each other as I felt my face engulf with worry and utter horror; How am I supposed to interact with this person? I guess I had been so entranced with my thoughts that I wasn't able to hear the boy calling out to me with both curiosity and worry tracing his vocals.
"Hey, are you alright? You've been staring at the ground for a few minutes too long." He let out an awkward chuckle but genuine enough to peak my interest and snap my head back up not knowing what to say or do. "I can see that you don't look too hot at the moment, I'll introduce myself first. The name's Lance McClain, I've actually lived in this neighborhood for a few years now but since my family moved closer I had to change bus stops." I slowly let myself ease a little but stay firmly cautious of interactions between us, so when I walked away without saying anything he found it to be strange and mildly rude. "Hey! Did you just walk away from me? I was trying to be nice!" I sat myself onto the bench and ignored his ear piercing complaints and instead found myself to be reading silently from my book and have a small smile trace my lips unnoticeably.