I dial Pheobe. She's just heading out for lunch with her parents, but says she may be free later. I assure her it's fine; we can hang out another time. We chatter on for a few more minutes. A part of me wants to see her, heck she's my best friend afterall, but another, larger part of me just wants solitude. Calling her is merely a charade, a way for me to not appear antisocial, even though I am clearly not okay. I push those thoughts aside.
I hang up. There's a voicemail on my phone, but I ignore it and turn my phone back off, another antisocial habit I picked up recently. Just as I toss it back in my bag, I hear the screechy brakes of the city bus. I smile, perfect timing. I hop on and to my dismay find my wallet missing. I did to the bottom of my bag for loose change. I would rather pay hundreds than have to run home and dodge Olga again. Lucky for me, it only cost me a dollar.
I take a seat in the front. The bus is practically empty, just how I like it. Looking out the window, I see children about the age of nine, running with baseball bats and gear in hand. They must be on their way to the vacant lot, or Gerald Field as we used to call it. It wasn't that long ago that I was one of them.. that we were them.
Us PS 118 kids never play anymore. Heck, the old gang rarely hangs out anymore. Sure I still see them in passing. Every now and then someone throws a party, but it's never just us like it used to be. I guess it all started when Rhonda and her friends decided baseball was too boyish. She, Nadine, and Lila traded in their bats in for pom poms. They are too busy now flirting with the football players and being vain for the likes of me.
Sid and Stinky had a falling out beginning of high school. Now Sid hangs out exclusively with the meta punks and junkies, most of which are out of school. The only time I see him away from school is at The Dive when he DJs. As for his former better half, Stinky has pretty much fallen off the grid. I have to laugh at the thought of Stinky jamming to dupstep with those punks. Niave Arnold was shocked by all of this. Me not so much. Sid was always a sketchy kid. I just hope he's more into the music than the drugs...
Harold plays football now. He's become friends with the older kids, like Wolfgang. I think he and Rhonda still have that weird thing for each other. I'm pretty perceptive about things like that. I guess when you spend so much time hiding your own feelings, you pick up on all the tricks, especially when other people aren't as careful. Anyway, it's reliable ammo for me whenever Harold tries to start something. He used to give me hell about Arnold, but one mention of Rhonda and he backs off.
Curly on the other hand thinks openly stalking a girl is a way to her heart. Yeah, he's still obsesed with Rhonda. Poor twisted little freak. I remember last year for her Birthday he snuck into her bedroom and-
The bus stops abruptly at a traffic light. I realize I missed my stop. Fratically I yank the cable. Sometimes I get so stuck in my head I can barely function. A few minutes later, I get off, only five blocks away from where I should have got off. I shrug my shoulders. It's only short walk, no harm no foul.
My mind travels back..Curly. Does he have any friends? I guess Brainy is the only person that dares associate with him. He stopped following me around when were were thirteen? To this day, I always feel like someone's looking over my shoulder. I mean for almost ten years I had to deal with that shit. The pathetic thing is, sometimes I kind of miss it. Or maybe I just miss socking him in the face. Yeah, I just miss socking him in the face.
Oh, but we aren't all that depressing. Pheobe for example has excelled, to no surprise. She's the top of our class and yet still makes time for me and her boyfriend. If you haven't already guessed it, Gerald and Pheobe are Hillwood High's perfect couple. They somehow exsit beyond the stereotypical "popular" crowd of jocks and cheerleaders, and everyone likes them. I mean everyone.
I guess Arnold and I balance out their gagging perfection with an unhealthy dose of disfunction. Criminy.
I walk through the gates of the county pool.