Matthew
I was still in my anger phase, and I found that more comforting than wallowing in angst. They couldn't ibother/i to take me to school, now. How did I not notice that before? Maybe I was so used to being ignored that I couldn't differentiate between people ignoring me as a matter of course and people ignoring me so they can run off and fuck.
Huh. Almost doesn't bother me anymore. Just a dull twinge deep inside my brain. Almost.
"Thank you," I said quietly, twisting my hands, and not looking up at Miguel, as we rumbled along the road to school.
"Huh?"
"Thank you," I repeated, slightly louder.
Miguel grinned. "No problem. It's cool hanging out with you." I smiled at him. I thought about my fantasy last night. I breathed in cigar smoke and felt strangely comforted. I should have felt embarrassed, but somehow I could separate the real Miguel and the fantasy Miguel in my mind. This crush was a wonderful thing in something this horrific time.
He frowned at me. "Are you okay?"
"Fine."
"You look tired."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Is it 'cause the show's in a week, or something?"
I'd forgotten about that. Bigger things, I suppose. I smiled anyway. "Yeah. I think I'm absorbing some of Katya's excess worrying."
"No fair," he laughed. "You've got enough of your own without helping her out."
I laughed as well. It was good to laugh with Miguel, instead of thinking about Dad and Alfred.
"Hey," he said. "Do you want to come over to my house after school today?"
A grin jumped to my face, joy tinged with surprise. "Oh, sure. Why?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. You're probably my best friend and we don't spend enough time together."
My stomach swelled. He didn't ignore me. I was his best friend. He cared about me and where I was and what I was doing. He wouldn't forget that I lived under the same roof as him.
And every second away from that house was a second I didn't have to deal with the problem.
I took a deep, rich, smoke-filled breath. "You too. Thanks."
He smiled. "Cool."
I smiled back, and briefly an insane thought entered my mind. I could trust him. I could tell him. I could get his help. I didn't have to deal with this chaos all by myself. And, Miguel would understand. He would help me. He could…
But this was my problem. It was a nightmare, and Miguel didn't deserve to be involved in the insanity. I couldn't stop it, I knew I was too weak for that, but I could contain it. I could keep it inside me, and inside that horrible house and it would only taint us three, me and Alfred and Dad.
And, here was Miguel offering to rescue me, unknowingly. Let Alfred and Dad have their sickness. I didn't need to let it twist me too.
I swallowed as much of the smoke-smell as my lungs would take and tried to pretend that all of that was true.
