Disclaimer: The OC and its characters still belong to Schwartz & Co.

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Chapter Four

Theresa and her mother are talking in rapid-fire Spanish in the other room. I'm sitting on her bed, shoes off, head on a couple of pillows that are propped up against her headboard, with my legs extended in front of me, waiting for her to come back with news of whether we're going to Trey's party. I don't particularly want to go. I don't want to go at all. But Theresa does. And I can't go home. Not yet. It's Friday night and things are always a little more fucked up at home on the weekends. With the drinking. And the drugs. And AJ's friends. Not that AJ's working. Or working much. And he could probably fit a Tuesday night to get coked up with his friends into his schedule just fine. But, I'm guessing his friends work. Or at least some of his friends do. Because when they show up, it's mostly on a Friday. At my house. Mom's house. Even though Mom works at the restaurant on Fridays. Even though Mom doesn't get home till close to midnight.

When I went by a little after 7:00, there were a couple cars parked out front and a guy I didn't recognize smoking on the porch. Even though everyone else smokes inside. Including AJ and Mom. Including me. So I didn't go home. Even though I wanted to. Even though I wanted to go in and tell them all to get the fuck out. Even though I still do. Or call the cops and have them raid the fucking place. But I don't. Because it's Mom's name on the lease. And if they raid the house, they'll find AJ's coke. And AJ's meth. And whatever other shit AJ and his friends have. And Mom can't get busted. Even though she probably should. And so I just thank Trey again for the bedroom door with the deadbolt. And I don't bother stopping my bike. And I don't go home.

I find Theresa, instead. Because I'm bored and I want to fool around. And I know she'll let me. Except, her mom's home. And Arturo's going to Trey's. So his car isn't going to be around. And we have to be careful about that anyway. Since Arturo will kill me—or us—if he finds us fucking in his car. Because it's his car. And it's his sister. Even if he knows that we're fucking. And he knows. But not about the car.

Theresa must have just hit a nerve, because her mom's voice suddenly rises an octave. And, although I didn't think it was possible just a minute ago, she's talking even faster. I hear Trey's name and my name and Arturo's. And it's jarring to hear the unaccented "Treys" and "Ryans" peppered throughout the conversation. And it makes me self-conscious. And curious. Especially since I hear a couple of "Atwoods." And I can only image that she's clumping Trey and me together to bring across some point. But, I don't know what the point is. Because, even though I can hear the two of them clearly enough, I haven't a clue what they're saying. And that doesn't bode well for my Spanish oral comprehensive that's coming up next week. But, maybe I'm okay. Since I'm pretty sure Theresa and her mom are talking about topics that haven't quite made it onto the Spanish I syllabus. And I'm pretty sure they're not discussing the "camisa blanca" or the "pantalons azul." And that is about the extent of my pathetic Spanish.

I'm pulling for Theresa's mom to win this one. Because she clearly doesn't want Theresa to go. And she shouldn't. And I hope she won't let her. Because I don't want to go. Because I'm tired. And because Trey's parties are dangerous. And even if Theresa's mom doesn't know that for certain, she ought to know it by intuition. Because she knows Trey. And she knows Arturo. And she knows the crowd they run with. And she knows that there will be drinking and drugs and probably guns at the party. And if she doesn't—well, she should.

And my eyelids are so fucking heavy. It's been such a long fucking week. And I'm so fucking tired that even my bones ache. So, I close my eyes briefly and just listen to the sound of Theresa and her mom arguing. And all I want to do is go to sleep. Or, better yet, fuck Theresa, then go to sleep. But neither of those appear to be an option right now. Or anytime soon. And in a less fucked up world, I'd be home. I'd be in my room. I'd already be in bed and watching television and waiting for sleep. But I'm not. Because there are a bunch of fucking strangers in my house. And I don't have the energy to deal with a bunch of fucking strangers. Especially since they're all probably wasted by now. Especially since AJ's probably wasted by now. And especially since AJ's still pissed off and looking for any excuse to rip my fucking head off.

Not that he needs an excuse. But, maybe he thinks Mom does. Even though I'm not so sure she does anymore. He'd barely reacted when I came out of my room this morning. After everything that happened last night, I was surprised they were even up. And I was surprised that he didn't have much of a reaction to seeing me. Because I expected him to come after me. But he didn't. Mom even looked a little embarrassed. Gave me a "hey, kiddo" and offered me coffee. And AJ told her to make it Irish. And then laughed at his own lame-assed joke. But Mom didn't look like she thought it was funny. And she suddenly decided that we weren't done talking about what happened at school yesterday. And her getting called at work. Like we'd even been talking. Like it wasn't just her waving her fucking drink around and yelling at me. Waving her fucking drink around and telling me how useless and stupid I am. And maybe if the fucking phone bill got paid, she wouldn't get called at work. And so I snapped. And I told her that we could have finished our talk last night if her fucking boyfriend hadn't tried to fucking kill me. And AJ's all "Hey, man." And you know what? "Fuck you, AJ." So I left. I grabbed my bike. And I pedaled the hell on out of there, with AJ yelling after me to get the fuck back.

So, I'm in no hurry to go home. And now I'm trying to think of some place Theresa and I can go and fool around if her mom won't let her go to Trey's. Because it sounds like her mom's not relenting. And Theresa's getting frustrated. I can tell by the tone of her voice, even if I can't understand the words she's saying. We could always stay here. But if we stay here, we won't be fooling around. Because her mom's home. And Theresa's bedroom door always has to be open. And her mom walks down the hallway in front of her room every two minutes, just to be sure nothing's going on. And she's always poking her head through the doorway, just to be extra sure.

And my house is out of the question. Has been ever since AJ became part of the furniture. And it's too cold outside. So, I briefly consider Arturo's workshop. And I quickly disregard the thought, since I can't imagine what Theresa would say to her mother, coming back into the house all covered in grease stains. And there's no conceivable way to fool around in Arturo's workshop without getting covered in grease. Even though I'm pretty sure that I can convince Theresa to fool around with me in the workshop. Even though Theresa doesn't take much convincing.

But, I suddenly decide that it doesn't matter. Because I'm not going to fuck Theresa tonight. Because I shouldn't. Even though I want to. Even though Theresa wants to. Because it would be twice in less than a week and that'd be sending the wrong message. Because Theresa wants more from me. And I can't give her more. Because I can't be her boyfriend. As much as she wants me to be her boyfriend. As much as she pretends that I am. I'm not. And I can't. And I've told her that. And she says she understands. But she doesn't. Not really. She doesn't understand that I'm too damn tired to be anyone's boyfriend. She doesn't understand that I'm too damn tired to be responsible for anyone else.

Because it's just too fucking much. With the drinking and the drugs and the yelling and the punching and the bruising and the bleeding and the crying and the everything that is my life right now. And because there's never any food in the fucking house. And the electricity's been cut off twice since AJ moved in. And the phone's been disconnected. And school's a fucking nightmare. And not just yesterday. All year it's been shitty. Because I'm too fucking tired to study. And I'm too fucking tired to pay attention. And I'm too fucking pissed off all the fucking time to just walk away when some jackass like Aldo fucking Fernandez gets in my face and says that he heard that Mom spent the night in jail after getting hauled out of his dad's bar. That she'd been drunk and threw a glass and got into a fight. Even if it's true. And I can't walk away when Aldo fucking Fernandez mutters "Classy lady, your mom."

So there's the fighting. And the suspension. And the piss poor grades. And Mom. And AJ. And Trey. And I can't be anyone's boyfriend right now. I just can't. So I won't fuck Theresa tonight. Because if I do, she'll ask about the winter dance again. Like I could give a fuck about the stupid dance. And how can she be so fucking clueless anyway? I thought she knew me better than just about anyone. But she doesn't know me at all. Because if she did, she wouldn't be begging me to take her to a dance. Because I don't dance. And because she wants to get dressed up. And she wants me to get dressed up. And she wants to go out to dinner. And I don't have two fucking quarters to rub together. And I couldn't even buy her a happy meal if my life fucking depended on it. And none of it matters, because I'm not her boyfriend. And I'm not taking her to the dance.

So all of this just adds up to me not getting laid tonight. Even though I could. By Theresa. Or by someone at Trey's party. Cathy Hennessey. Or Catarina. Or Maggie, even. And I'm still a little surprised that I have options. Since it wasn't always like this. It wasn't ever like this. Not before working construction last summer with Mom's boyfriend. The one before AJ. The boyfriend she couldn't keep. The boyfriend who'd made our lives tolerable for about 18 months. The boyfriend who'd given me my first couple of jobs. Go-fer at the construction site the summer before last and working real construction last summer. Kept me on, even after Mom and he broke up. After he broke up with Mom. And with all the lifting and the hauling, I'd actually put on some muscle. I was no longer the scrawny little shit I'd always been. And that opened up some doors. Or at least it opened up some legs.

And that's when Theresa—that's when she started being a just little bit clingy and just a little bit annoying. Because as near as I can figure, that's when it started being all about the boyfriend thing. After school started. When, suddenly, I could get laid. When, suddenly, I could get laid by girls who weren't Theresa. When, suddenly, I was getting laid by girls who weren't Theresa.

So maybe she's jealous. Even though it doesn't make much sense. Or any sense at all. Because why would she be jealous? Seriously. C'mon. Ryan fucking Atwood? My life is so fucked up. And she knows it. Because everyone knows it. Because it isn't exactly a secret. And because she should be looking to someone else to be her boyfriend. Someone who's not so fucking exhausted all the time. Someone who's not so fucked up.

"Hey, Ryan." I didn't even realized that Theresa and her mom had stopped arguing. I didn't hear her come back to the room.

"Hey." And it takes real effort to peel my eyelids off my eyeballs and to focus on Theresa. Because I'm just that fucking tired.

"You sleeping?"

"No. I just closed my eyes for a minute."

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah." I take in a deep breath. I exhale. I swing my legs off the bed and start to get up.

"Ryan, I'm kidding. You're too tired and my mom won't let me go, anyway. So, let's just hang out here, okay? My mom's already heating you up a plate—she decided you look hungry. We'll watch TV or something. You can even stay here on the couch tonight if you want. My mom thinks you should—and I think you should, too."

"Sounds good." I say. And it does. It sounds great. But, I'm still not her boyfriend. And, I'm still not taking her to the stupid dance.