How He Talked
I hesitated.
Kenny looked annoyed. "Ask, dammit."
"Are you thinking of killing yourself?"
He scowled. "You just had to ask." He laughed. "No," he answered. "I'm fine."
"No you're not," I corrected.
"No, I'm not."
Still lacking a straight answer, I repeated, "Are you thinking of killing yourself?"
"No," he said.
I sighed in relief and looked down at my lap for a second. When I looked up, Kenny was biting his lip and looking away.
"It just seems like you've given up on everything," I told him. "Tuned out."
"Well. Why shouldn't I?" Kenny asked. "What reason do I have to go to class? Talk to people? Make friends? Get out of bed in the morning? What's in it for me? ...No, there are things in it for me. I get to listen to music. I like walking around and seeing everything. I like the world, just not actions in it. The things you have to do. They're all uninteresting, inconvenient..."
That was how he talked, toward the end.