This Could Be Anywhere But Here
Chapter Three
Last night, I stopped and really took notice of my room. My navy blue carpet, the pine trees outside my window, my fading posters…my parents left it untouched. It's nice to see that they didn't decide to turn it into a guest room or something lame like that after I brought up the stupid idea of living on my own. Student loans put a dent in the financial situation needed to live alone.
On that note, something else that I need to get on: I need a job. Something for cash until I figure out what I want to do. Hopefully that's sooner rather than later.
I glance at the clock as I open one of my suitcases sitting on the bed. 11:09PM. If I want to get to sleep any time soon, I better start unpacking.
I think about Kyle again as I blindly separate clothing. Ever since I've been home, he's constantly been slipping in and out of my thoughts. It's getting kind of annoying, but I can't help but be curious. The last time we were both living here was high school—and that didn't really end well.
Senior year, Cartman, Kenny, and myself were sitting in South Park High School's cafeteria, just like we did every day for lunch. I had my usual slice of cheese pizza, bottle of soda, and two chocolate chip cookies in front of me. I bought this for lunch every day. I was a creature of habit when it came to food.
Cartman was trying to gloat about the fact that he had a date to the prom before Kyle, even though Kyle wasn't at lunch yet. But that was Cartman—pretty much anything out of his mouth involved anger, criticism, or gloating. Today wasn't an exception.
"So, Jessica Tibbly finally got back to me and said that she would love to go to the prom with me. Said she would looove to," He dragged out 'love' for emphasis. "Did you hear me, Stan? She said that she would l-o-v-e love to." With a huge smile on his face, he sat across from me, staring into my eyes as if this affected my life in any way. It didn't.
"Cartman, I really don't give a shit," I said with a full mouth of pizza. "Jess smells like she doesn't know the meaning of the word 'shower' and twitches almost as much as Tweek. This isn't really something to brag about, dude."
Kenny threw in a small laugh, sitting beside Cartman.
"Ay! Shut up! At least I'm not the last one to get a date, like that Jew-Boy predicted. I even got one before him. I can't wait until he gets here so I can tell him that hee waas wrooong," The last three words were sung in a sing-song.
"I doubt Kyle cares about your smelly date, and besides, he said he isn't even going."
"Please, he's just saying that because he can't get a girl like—"
"Like your mom can't get a negative STD test?" Kenny questioned, followed by a fit of laughter. I had to laugh, too. Cartman's mom always was a dirty whore.
"Knock it off, Kenny!" He spat.
"He said he didn't want to go," I continued. "I'm sure Kyle has his reasons. If he doesn't want to go, then he doesn't want to go. Who cares? And don't rip on him when he's not here to defend himself, dude." I was trying my best to stick up for Kyle and make like this wasn't that big of a deal. I didn't feel like hearing these two argue with each other all through lunch again. Their fights were getting worse. Kenny and I left the table last week because they just wouldn't quit.
Cartman's eyes lit up, "Never mind that, Stan. Here he comes." Any time that he had a chance to prove Kyle wrong or embarrass him, he would get this look of excitement on his face like he inherited a million dollars. Again.
Kyle threw his backpack on the cafeteria floor and he resembled more of a storm than my best friend. He sat down in the empty seat beside me, across from Kenny, like he did every day. Anger radiated off him like heat. His face was red and I could tell he was on edge. He bent down and fumbled through his backpack, pulled out a paper lunch bag, and threw it on the table in front of him.
The three of us just sat and stared.
He must have felt the eyes on him because when he looked up at us, he was already confused by the attention we had locked on him. His auburn curls bounced when he lifted his head, revealing the very obvious fact that he wasn't wearing his hat today, "What?"
Kyle hated his hair. The only reason it wasn't shorter was because his mom forbid him to cut it. She thinks the curls are "just lovely." I knew, along with everyone else, that he would never voluntarily come to school without his hat. This never happens—ever.
I arched an eyebrow, taking the first initiative to speak, "Are you okay, dude?"
Kyle shook his head, breaking eye contact with us, "I'm fine. I don't want to talk about it." The words spilled out in an aggravated mumble through his tight lips. He didn't look good; he looked like he was restraining his emotions the best he could, but it was a struggle.
He continued unwrapping his lunch which revealed a very unappetizing peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This didn't seem to help his mood.
I didn't pressure him to talk. Instead, I just gave him a smile for reassurance and hoped we could all just move on with this whole lunch thing.
I looked at Cartman. His sight was fixed on Kyle. A slow smile formed on his smug expression and I felt a new weight fall on my shoulders. Something bad was going to happen; I felt it in my gut. Just when I opened my mouth to distract Cartman, he opened his, "Well, Kyle, you look bright and chipper this morning."
Kyle's eyes were on his crinkled paper bag and boring lunch but they narrowed as soon as he heard that annoying voice.
I didn't know what could've been bugging Kyle. I looked over the curly hair atop his head and took a wild guess that he was pissed off he didn't have his hat today. But, there had to be something else. He wouldn't be this mad over a hat.
Just as my eyes were looking over the mess on Kyle's head, Cartman spoke again, "How does it feel to be in your true Jew-form? No more hiding that fro from the world. You're free, Kyle."
"Goddammit, Cartman. I'm not in the mood for your shit today."
"Well, just let me say what I have to say and then I'll be quiet. Just one thing, Kyle." He feigned sincerity, closing his eyes and placing his hand over his chest, "All I ask…is that you listen."
"Nothing you say is worth listening to. Don't talk to me."
"Cartman," I began, trying to reason with the unreasonable, "leave him alone today, alright? You two can rip each other's' heads off tomorrow. Give me and Kenny a break for one day."
Cartman crossed his arms, "Well, I'm afraid I can't do that." He glared at me, looking like whatever I could've said wouldn't get through to him. Then he leaned his fat forearms onto the lunch table, and inched his face closer to Kyle, "So! Do you have a date to prom, yet?"
Kyle scoffed, "Not that it's any of your damn business, but no, because I'm not going. It's just some bullshit dance that everyone hypes up like it means something in life." He bit into his peanut butter and jelly sandwich like it was cardboard.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the girl that I was taking to prom looking over at me, and I got distracted from the argument. Her name was Kerry. She only sat a few lunch tables in front of us. She was a pretty cool girl and I was hoping that she'd be my girlfriend after the dance. Could make Wendy jealous.
She gave me a smile and a shy wave, which I returned with as much charm that I could throw into a wave, but my smile faded once Cartman shifted in his seat and blocked my view—not like that's hard for him.
Cartman rubbed his pointer finger and thumb over his chin as if he was in deep thought, "Well, you do seem to make a perfectly good point, Kyle, but everyone always goes. Seems to me like you're covering up because no one wants to be seen in public with your embarrassing Jew-fro."
"Fuck you, Cartman!" He threw his sandwich back into its wrapping, "I don't give a shit if everyone goes to them, I just don't want to go. And it's not like anyone would go with your fat ass anyway!"
Kenny and I just looked at each other and rolled our eyes. Something had to change. We couldn't take these two fighting anymore. Sure, they've fought since we were kids, but for the past few years, we didn't get a break when they were within earshot of one another. It was getting really fucking annoying.
Cartman leaned back in his chair with a sinister grin on his face, "Looks like you are wrong again. A particular girl would looove to go with me. She even said so."
"Who, your mom? She'd go with anyone with a dick—but oh wait, then that might rule you out."
"You would want to know if I had a dick or not, asshole!"
"So, there's a possibility that you don't?"
Kenny and I laughed again. Okay, so sometimes this was entertaining. But despite Kyle's sarcasm, he was getting angrier. He didn't think any of this was funny.
I was about to suggest that we go to the library to finish lunch so he could calm down, but Cartman threw exactly what he had been waiting to throw out there.
"Ay! Fuck you, douchebag! For your information, Jessica Tibbly is going with me, so in your goddamn face! Looks like you were wrong, Kyle, and I was right. I wasn't the last to get a date. And I don't have to pay her so don't start with that bullshit again either." He leaned up in his seat closer and pointed his finger between Kyle's narrowed eyes, "And ya know what? Everyone knows that you can't get a date. We all know that you don't think the dance is 'over-hyped.' You just can't find anyone to look you in that ugly fucking face of yours, and you never could! You've never had a girlfriend, Kyle! Everyone fucking knows it!"
Kyle was giving him a cold stare. He didn't even blink. Cartman was pushing him too far. I could tell.
"Cartman," I interjected, "quit being an asshole and just shut the fuck up. Leave him alone. Eat your food like we all know you want to."
It was like I was invisible, and Kenny didn't even look like he cared. He went on with his food, not paying the two any mind. He was used to this, I guess. I should be too, but again…I had a bad feeling this time. Something wasn't right.
Cartman pressed further, "You're just a piece of shit, Kyle, and you always will be. No one wants to go to prom with you, and I have a girl who would love to go with me. How does it feel, Kyle? Are you burning with jealousy? With envy?" He lifted two index fingers, pointing both back and forth in Kyle's face, dancing as he sang: "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. I got a date before you-uu."
Kyle clenched his teeth, "Get your fucking sausage fingers out of my face."
We always told each other, ever since elementary school, that we wouldn't give Cartman the satisfaction of seeing us really lose our cool. Kyle tried to stick with this growing up, and he succeeded for a while, but Cartman was becoming relentless and unbearable.
Kyle was gripping his hands together beneath the table and his knuckles were fading to white. I put my hand under the table and laid it over his, "Kyle? Calm down, dude. It's all right."
"No! It's not, all right, Stan. I'm fucking sick of this asshole."
Cartman sat back in his seat, "Oh, now that hurts. But, it probably doesn't hurt as bad as having no one to go to prom with, right?"
"Shut the fuck up, Fatass, before I kick the shit out of you!"
This grabbed Kenny's attention. His eyes were on us again instead of his lunch. The fight was escalating more than he thought it would, too.
Kyle hadn't denied not having a date for the prom yet. Maybe Cartman was right? He always did have a problem with girls.
I looked at Kyle and gave him the friendliest smile that I could. I immediately regretted what I was going to say as he turned to me, face heated, but it was already sailing out of my mouth, "Hey, I can probably get one of Kerry's friends to go with you if you can't get a date. She—"
He cut me off, wrenching his hands away from me and smacking them down onto the tabletop, "Jesus Christ, Stan! I could get a date just fine! That's not the point! I just don't want to fucking go!"
I frowned; I was only trying to help. I mean, I know it was a bad time to bring it up, but goddamn, "Will you calm down?"
He stood up, "No! I won't calm down. I'm fucking done. I'm sick of this idiot's abuse day after day. I'm not hanging out with him anymore." He started gathering his things with the intention to leave and I wanted to just let him go. It was best so that he could cool off.
And if Cartman could have kept his fucking mouth shut for just this once, everything would have been okay. But of course, that didn't happen.
"See ya, Kyle! Avoid windows while you're walking through the school! Ginger Daywalkers don't have reflections!"
"That's it," Kyle dropped everything he owned and walked to Cartman's side of the table. He leaned down and his face was inches away from the growing smirk on Cartman's. He looked as if he was about to squeeze the life out of him, "Say one more thing, you fat fuck! One more thing!"
By now the rest of the students were staring at our table. I looked around, feeling uncomfortable being at the center of the scene. I tried reasoning again, "Kyle? Come on. Let's go to the library. We can finish our lunch and you can cool off."
Cartman opened his mouth to make another remark, but Kyle just lost it. All of the frustration over the years finally came to a head. He couldn't take it anymore. He just fucking lost it.
Kyle lunged for Cartman and tackled him to the ground, knocking him off the chair and onto the floor. They rolled into other students, toppling everyone over like bowling pins. Chairs turned, and food flew. Kyle's fists aimed repeatedly and directly into Cartman's face as he yelled random obscenities that we couldn't really even understand.
"Holy shit, dude!" Kenny yelled through his parka as he simultaneously yanked on the strings, hiding into the fabric like a turtle in its shell.
Cartman wasn't exactly weak, being as fat as he was. When his brain registered that Kyle was gradually fucking up his face, and blood began to seep from his nose, he threw Kyle off of him and into the lunch table in front of us. Kyle fell backwards into a group of goth kids, spilling coffee all over their table in a wave of steam. "Watch it, Conformist!"
Kenny and I jumped from our seats, shaking off the initial shock of the situation, "Knock it off, you two!" We yelled together.
Kyle struggled to his feet after the fall and hissed in pain from hot coffee sinking into his clothing. But when he regained balance, he noticed a chair come flying at him from Cartman's direction. He hastily sidestepped just in time, "Really, you fucking asshole!? You're seriously throwing fucking chairs!?"
"You're goddamn right I am!" He threw another as Kyle came running towards him again with a look in his eyes that had every intention to continue what he started on Cartman's face.
Before Cartman could toss another, Kyle had tackled him to the ground again and grasped his throat with both hands.
"Ay!" he choked, "Get off me!"
Kenny and I ran up behind Kyle and pulled him away. It was a struggle—Kyle was livid. Kenny backed off once I pulled Kyle up and decided to make sure Cartman didn't do something stupid while I tried to restrain Kyle.
Kyle has had plenty of tantrums before, and I was one of the few people that had a tactic in calming him down. Now, I figured that this was no different, and I'd use the same technique that I always did. Just grab hold of him and don't let go until he decides to stop being a crazy little shit.
I threw my arms around him, pasting his own down to his sides. I held him tight to the point where there was not a gap between our bodies. He tried to squirm away but I was always stronger. His heart was pounding so fast that I felt it through his sweater. His scent and the sharp smell of coffee filled my nostrils. I squeezed him tighter and spoke quietly in his ear, "Calm down, dude. You don't want to do this. We graduate soon and then you don't have to see him again. Just two more weeks, Kyle. Don't let him get to you now." I tried my best to reason with him, "Calm down. Forget about him. It's just me here."
He suddenly stopped struggling. He stood there, spine straight, and for a moment, I didn't hear anything in the world around me—just his breathing. I let go of him, and what I saw scared me. This was Kyle—my best friend—and he never looked so hopeless.
He looked like he was going to cry.
Footsteps in the stairwell distracted me, and I turned to see if someone was coming. It was probably a teacher—about fucking time! I didn't even know where our lunch monitor got to in the midst of all this.
And then, I heard another noise besides footsteps. The sound of metal and plastic scraped the tiled floor. When I turned back around to see what it was, I noticed Kyle still staring at me.
Before I could say anything, I heard someone yell "Get down!" Kyle and I immediately directed our attention to Cartman, and then at the flying chair coming right for our heads.
We dropped to the floor, covering our heads with our hands like a grenade went off. Then, we heard the chair smack into something behind us, followed by a yelp, and something else falling to the floor besides the chair.
I turned around and saw Principal Victoria lying there, unconscious.
"Cartman!" I heard Kenny, who was supposed to be restraining said individual, yell through his parka.
Kyle stood there in shock, looking down at the body on the floor. I moved away from him and knelt down next to our Principal. "Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Principal Victoria, are you okay?"
She didn't answer. More footsteps descended in the stairwell.
Mr. Mackey appeared and was immediately by my side, "Oh my Gawd!" He put his hands on our principal's shoulders, "Principal Victoria, are you alright?" He shot a cold look at me when she didn't respond, "M'kay, now just what in the hell happened down here?"
My mouth gaped open. I didn't have a clue what to say.
As observant as Mr. Mackey was, he took a look behind us and knew exactly what happened. He saw a chair lying beside us and the Principal, and then noticed Cartman and Kyle just standing there, dumbfounded. They were standing in a mess of unturned chairs and vacant tables. I hadn't noticed until now, but those two managed to get the rest of the students to move to the other side of the cafeteria.
Cartman and Kyle were notorious for their heated arguments. It wasn't a hard puzzle to piece together.
"Eric Cartman! Kyle Broflovski! Get to the principal's office right this instant!"
Kyle's face was horrified. I knew this could only end badly. This situation was dangerous so close to graduation.
Eric put his hands behind his back, and looked to the ceiling. He whined, always pressing buttons, "But Mr. Mackey? Why do we have to go to the principal's office if she is unconscious?"
"Just go to my office then! Right now!"
Kyle didn't take the bus home with Kenny and me that day. I called his house after school, but no one answered. I kept calling his cell phone into the night and still never got an answer. Paranoia setting in, I decided to give up on the phone and just go over to his house to see what had happened. I needed to know. I hoped his punishment wasn't anything serious, or that it interfered with any of his scholarships.
His mom answered the door. She wasn't exactly welcoming. "Well, hello Stanley," she said flatly, very unlike her.
I gave her a weak wave, feeling awkward because of her tone. "Hi, Mrs. Broflovski. Is Kyle home?"
"Yes he is, but I'm afraid that he's grounded."
I adjusted my hat, feeling the need to do something with my hands. Kyle's parents were always pretty strict with him. I tried to think of a quick excuse.
I patted the inside of my coat, "I have some assignments from his classes that I have to give him for our finals. It'll only take a minute." I hoped that she bought the lie, and didn't ask to see these assignments that I most definitely didn't have tucked away in my coat.
She frowned but decided not to pry any further. She looked at me as like a distant son. I'd been around Kyle for pretty much my whole life. I wouldn't dare lie to her.
Right.
"He's upstairs in his room. I'm sorry, but you can't stay long though, Stanley. Like I said, he is grounded. Half hour, tops."
I walked by her and nodded before making my way up the steps.
I didn't knock when I walked in; I didn't have to, "Kyle?" The room was dark, "Can I turn a light on?"
"I don't care," His voice was hollow.
After closing the door behind me, I walked towards his bed. I knew the route in the dark comfortably. I moved to the side table and turned the small lamp on. When it illuminated the room, Kyle's back was to me. He was curled into a ball under his comforter and his head just barely poked out from underneath to reveal his hat that had rightfully returned to his head.
"Do you want to talk, dude?"
I took a seat beside him, letting the question hang in the air. I let him take a moment to decide how he wanted to answer. Even if he didn't feel like talking, that was fine too. At least I was here to keep him company for a half hour.
"Stan?"
His body didn't move, even when he said my name, "Yeah?"
"I can't walk for graduation."
I arched an eyebrow, "Did Cartman fuck up your leg with one of those chairs today?"
There was another pause for a moment, as if Kyle was having difficulty speaking. He began to move though. He sat up in his bed, the blanket falling down off of his body and onto his lap. He was in a white t-shirt and his eyes were puffy. It was obvious that he had been crying.
"No, nothing like that," His voice sounded weak. I listened closely, trying to figure out what he meant by he couldn't walk.
"Me and Cartman can't attend the graduation ceremony. We're not allowed to attend the rehearsals, accept our diplomas with our classmates, or anything."
My mouth hung open. This was a huge deal for Kyle. He was second in our class. This graduation signified his hard work over all these years in South Park. His parents talked about going to his high school graduation all the time.
"We can pick up our diplomas at the school the day after graduation, but we're not to be anywhere near the ceremony." His voice was quiet. He seemed removed of all feeling, like the day had drained him, "I don't get to walk down the aisle and accept my diploma in front of my friends and family. All of my hard work and I'm getting my diploma in a fucking manila envelope."
He wiped the back of his hand under his nose with a brief sniffle. "Oh," he said, suddenly remembering something. He leaned over the side of his bed and pulled our copybook out of his schoolbag. "Here." He handed it to me, "I know we haven't used it in a while, but I had nothing better to do in detention today. It's basically just me complaining about how much I hate Fatass." He attempted a sheepish smile, but he looked too tired.
I ran my eyes over the book, taking it from him. I haven't seen it since the beginning of the school year, the last time that I used it. It was a black and white marble copybook that's seen the inside of our backpacks since elementary school. Kyle and I wrote notes to each other every now and then in it. It was just something we did when we felt the need to talk to the other but for some reason couldn't at the time.
I tucked the copybook into my coat where his assignments were supposed to be. Just as I was about to ask about how Principal Victoria was doing, he said, "I have to tell you something else too, dude."
I brought up my legs to sit Indian style on his bed, my left leg resting a bit on his, and continued to listen.
"I was upset this morning because I got a B for my final grade in AP Trig. I may not even be second in the class anymore. And Mr. Hannity was such a dick about it, too. But that still wasn't even it, though it totally pissed me off." He took a deep breath before he spoke his next words, "I'm moving to Hanover for college."
I was taken aback with surprise. This wasn't the plan that we had discussed, "Hanover? Where the hell is that at?"
"New Hampshire."
"What!" I coughed out as an immediate reaction. I wasn't expecting that.
Kyle just gave me a weak shrug, "That was why I was pissed off this morning to begin with. My mom called right before lunch and decided for me that I am going to Dartmouth. Apparently my dad knows some lawyer over there that knows some professor. I don't know, dude. They looked over my transcripts for consideration and I got a late acceptance letter."
I didn't know what to say, "What happened to your scholarships to Colorado State?"
"She wants me to see if I can work something out. I have a meeting with Mackey about it tomorrow. Which, of course, she arranged for me too."
I didn't have a clue what to say. I was happy for him, I really was. This was an Ivy League school. Of all the people that deserved to attend one, Kyle would be top on the list. But Jesus Christ, New Hampshire? That was on the other side of the country. This was a change in plans – a big change.
"Wow. Congratulations," I didn't sound as excited for him as I should have.
His head was looking down to his lap as he played with stray threads on his blanket, "I want to go. This is an amazing opportunity for me. This is what I've always wanted for my education. I was just so mad earlier because she's making my decisions before even talking it over with me—again. I'm so sick of her running my life. And then that fuckin' B. And even my hat, dude, of all days for me to have misplaced the thing. But… I know I still shouldn't have let that affect me with Cartman today. And I definitely shouldn't have let him get to me like he did."
I put my hand on his again, much like I did in the cafeteria today. I rubbed my thumb lightly over his knuckles and fingers. I had an urge to comfort him—or myself. Probably both, "It's alright, dude. It's over with now. Cartman was a huge dick today. I can see how he got to you."
He looked at my hand and then brought his eyes back up to look at my face like he was studying something behind my eyes. Maybe it was because of the whole graduation thing, maybe he just wanted someone to help him out of the situation, or maybe he was just tired from crying, but his look made me feel distant. I didn't know what it meant. We were usually able to read each other's emotions like our own, but there was something going on inside his head that night that I couldn't figure out.
"This is what you want, right?" I asked, just to make that sure he wasn't doing this just to please his crazy mother. It was stupid though. Of course this is what he wanted. It's an Ivy League school. This is right. This is a good opportunity for him. This is what he wants. Who the hell wants to go to Colorado State when they have an open invitation to Dartmouth University?
I pleaded with myself to be happy for him.
His face didn't change, but he paused. Then he nodded and gave me the fakest smile that I'd ever seen, "I'm sure. I need to get away."
This wasn't the first time that I could tell that Kyle was lying to me, but it was the first time that I didn't question it. He deserved this. He was only miserable because of the fucked up day he had. I was trying to be happy for the both of us, but it was hard.
Four years. Four years without the guy in front of me. I couldn't fathom that. It wasn't right. "Fuck, dude," I breathed in realization, letting this sink in, "What the hell am I supposed to do without you?"
As soon as I said it, Kyle quickly clung to me with a hug, his head falling on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him in return and our arms locked behind each other's backs. We sat in a few more moments of silence like that, just stuck to each other.
I had this sudden fear of parting before him, like if I did, I'd never see him again. He let go first.
My eyes slowly open, and a dim light from my desk is warmly lighting the room. I'm in my bed, waking from a very uncomfortable nap. I must've dozed while unpacking.
After rubbing my eyes, I make out the numbers on the clock: 2:42 AM.
The memory stays with me, and I look over at my mirror, a habit that I have whenever the end of senior year crosses my mind. But, what I'm looking for isn't there.
I sit up with a stretch and grab the pants that I wore to graduation. I reach my hand in the back pocket to pull out a photo before shuffling tiredly over to the mirror and nudging it into the corner.
It's not in great condition, but it's not bad. It has a worn down fold in the top right corner from sitting in my mirror down in Boulder for so long. It was taken on my high school graduation day, on Kyle's front lawn. I wouldn't go home after accepting my diploma unless my parents stopped there first. Just because Kyle couldn't attend the ceremony didn't mean I couldn't at least get a picture with the one person who kept me sane enough all these years to make it to graduation. I was in my long, dark blue gown with my arm around his shoulder and a bright smile on my face. Kyle wasn't too ecstatic that day since he couldn't attend, but you wouldn't be able to tell from the picture. He looked as happy as ever, and so did I. I had pulled off his green hat, dropped it to our feet, and slapped my graduation cap on his head. With myself in my gown, and him in my cap, my parents took the picture.
The photo had been tucked in the corner of my mirror all through college.
It sounds lame but whenever I was pissed off at him for not returning my calls, I would look at this picture and feel better about the situation. No matter how shitty things seemed on the outside world, we always had each other to fall back on. I can tell the smile on his face is genuine, even though his day had been horrible. I think that maybe, no matter how bad things seem between us, we can always go back to what we had in this picture. It's a slim chance of hope, but it's still there.
Even if I don't talk to him again, even if he's turned into a total douchebag, and even though he hasn't spoken to me in years, he's still the best friend that I've ever had. I don't think anyone could come along and change that. Not even Kenny. What I had with Kyle is unexplainable.
I look back at the mess on my bed. There's no way I plan on finishing unpacking now. It's too late and I'm exhausted.
After another quick glance at the picture, I place my luggage on the floor to push the inevitable off until tomorrow, and strip down to my boxers. I flick the light off and settle down onto my clear bed, much more comfortable now that I don't have the handle of a suitcase digging into my spine.
