Roads Chapter Three: Maybe
Stupid. Pointless. An effort made where none was necessary.
Adrian berated himself for the sentimental, feminine gesture he’d made the day before. The other boy had offered him an olive branch, kind of, but that didn’t mean he had to grab onto it like it was a fucking teddy bear. What was he trying to say? What good would it do him to… be nice back? He hadn’t achieved the sense of satisfaction he’d been hoping for; he’d created an inexplicable knot in his stomach that refused to untangle itself.
The clock on Adrian’s laptop made a soft series of clicks, indicating that his desperate attempts at sleep had again been thwarted by his chronic insomnia. He glanced over at the clock that served as his background: 6:30 am. Without sitting up, he opened the drawer in his nightstand and fished out a translucent orange bottle, undid the safety cap, and swallowed two caffeine pills dry. It was going to be a long day.
~
Charlie discreetly reached into the open front pocket of his backpack. Jennifer Cho had dropped him a note, presumably from Kerrie, and he didn't want Ms. Taylor to catch him with it—she was particularly monstrous about misbehavior. He carefully pulled on the folded sheet of binder paper. Much to his dismay, it caught on something else in the pocket. He tugged a little harder to loosen the paper, and the accompanying crinkling noise brought back the events of the previous day; the mysterious catching item was Adrian’s mostly empty bag of jellybeans. Charlie glanced up at his teacher to make sure she hadn’t noticed his rather overt fidgeting in the otherwise silent room. Miraculously, she hadn’t. He left the note folded on his desk, and sunk into thought.
Adrian Woodland. What a crazy guy. One minute he’s looking at me with those creepy eyes like I killed his mom or something, the next he’s got me trying to apologize for something I didn’t start, and the next he’s giving me stuff as if we’re friends. Well, not like we’re friends per se. Maybe he was trying to hit me with the bag… but that doesn’t make sense… I mean, we were having a civil conversation before hand, and… why am I thinking about fucking Woodland when there’s a note from Kerrie on my desk? Agh.
Charlie sighed and tore at the corners of Kerrie’s note. He unfolded the paper slowly, read it quickly, refolded it and shoved it in his backpack. She was cute, really. Cute, but stupid. Charlie had known she wasn’t his intellectual equal since the start of things, but sometimes, he reasoned, sometimes that isn’t what matters. I can deal with a lack of stimulating conversation. I have other people for that. She loves me, and that should be enough. That is enough. That’s all anybody wants, right? So I’m one of the lucky ones.
He reached into his backpack again, and opened the jellybean bag without looking. He pulled out the first bean he wrapped his fingers around and popped it into his mouth. A memory tickled the back of his mind—Adrian sitting on a bench, in elementary school, holding a bag of jellybeans, looking at me. Charlie rolled the bean in his mouth back and forth, thinking—Adrian in middle school, reaching into his bulging pocket, noticing me noticing him chewing. Charlie shivered.
Kid really loves jellybeans. So I guess he really was trying to be nice… maybe I should thank him. For what, getting me two months of detention? Hah. But still, maybe-
“Charlie Hunt! I do not tolerate eating in my class!” Taylor shrieked. Charlie jumped, surprised. Taylor glared at him for another moment before proceeding with her lesson. Charlie relaxed, and bit down.
~
The days were getting shorter. The clocks ticked forward an hour, and the sunset consequently ticked back two. It was 3:30 in the afternoon and the sky was already teasing at sunset.
Adrian sat on the steps to Rogan’s office, pensively bouncing one foot. He didn’t exactly know what to say to Charlie, didn’t know how to contain his heightening discomfort. The caffeine certainly wasn’t helping his emotional state—the wiry nervousness kept him awake, but in a mildly terrifying way.
As Charlie approached, Adrian stifled the physical manifestations of his disquiet. He glanced at the slightly taller boy with seemingly calm annoyance.
“You’re late. It’s 3:50.”
“Sorry. Why didn’t you get started?”
“Rogan says we have to do this together. I can’t start until you do. Try to hurry it up with your lover, please, so I can get home.” Adrian was unable to stop the inflection of a questioning tone in his voice at the end of his last statement. He shifted, grabbed his bag, and moved toward the gym.
Charlie did not mention the jellybeans. This had been relieving to Adrian at first, until he noticed that Charlie hadn’t really mentioned anything, which was unusual for him. They worked in relative silence for the remainder of their detention, simply clearing trash and scrubbing down the benches one by one. When an hour had passed, they’d finished the entire seating area. Adrian fidgeted for a moment before he spoke, trying to do right by his agitated mind.
“We made some progress.”
Charlie looked up as though having been pulled from a trance. “Yeah. Yeah we did.”
Adrian hesitated, looking from Charlie to the door and back. He gave Charlie a quick, tentative half-smile. “Right then. I’m off.”
Adrian did not see Charlie as he prepared to say something, nor did he hear Charlie clear his throat as the door slammed behind him. He stopped once outside the gym and momentarily cocked his head toward the sky before tearing off toward his car. Progress, huh? Maybe.
~
Charlie was late. Kerrie checked her watch, and looked down the street to where she expected his motorcycle to appear. When it finally did, she was met with a sheepish grin.
“Sorry babe. I know I’m late.”
She glared at him reproachfully before smiling sadly. “Did you finish your detention with the shit-head? I knew it was going to interrupt with our lives.”
Charlie paused. Shit-head? Yeah, I guess he is. “Yeah,” he said absently. “So whatcha wanna do tonight?” He smiled.
“Oh, I dunno… I was thinking that maybe we could go back to your place and finish that project we started yesterday…” she whispered breathily.
His expression turned carnal.
“The one that involved you on your back?” He asked sweetly.
“And you doing pushups? That’s the one.”
The drive home took too long for Charlie’s taste.
~
Adrian liked driving. It gave him a sense of control, of choice. There were rules, and they didn’t change—but he was allowed to change. He could break routine, and he could choose alternate directions. He was in charge.
When he got home that night, the sky was dark enough that it was considering turning back toward light. He tried to be quiet as he twisted his key in the lock, and made his way through the hallways without turning on a light.
When one flipped on behind him, it stung his eyes. He turned to see his father staring blearily at him. The man was clearly a little drunk, and Charlie froze, going cold.
“What the hell you doin’ gettin’ in suh late, boy?” The older man drawled.
“Dad,” Adrian began slowly, “you’ll wake the girls.”
Adrian’s head tilted upward as his father, a full head taller, stepped closer.
“Nah, see, ‘s you thas gon’ wake ‘em.” The man let out what could have been a giggle were it not so cold, a sound that could have been innocent if Adrian couldn’t smell the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath.
“I’m being very quiet, Dad. Please. Just let me go to bed.” Adrian tried not to shake.
Please.
The first blow landed in his side, the second in his ribcage. Adrian drew in a shaky breath, and let his body fall to the floor. A knee landed in his face, and he spat blood. His father kicked him until the light behind him faded, and Adrian welcomed the ensuing nothingness.
When he woke up a few minutes later, it was to voices.
“For God’s sake, could you make less of a ruckus? Adrian, get up!”
Adrian’s stepmother shook him lightly with one hand while adjusting her robe with the other.
“’M not the one makin’ noise, Maggie, it’s the goddam boy. Come in here suh damn late makin’ noise. ‘Sorry Maggie, really. Shoulda made ‘im live with his mom.”
“In the goddam graveyard?”
Maggie followed the conversation out of the room, and Adrian sat up, wincing. He limped down the stairs to his basement bedroom, and collapsed on his mattress.
At least the girls didn’t wake up. At least I’ll get some sleep. At least I’m not missing any teeth. At least I’ll move out soon…
The list continued as Adrian drifted away.
~
Charlie was waiting. He sat on the steps, watching Adrian walk slowly toward him. The vacant eyed boy was wearing very rumpled clothes that looked to Charlie to be the same as what he’d worn the previous day, and he was favoring the left side of his face, which looked almost like a dark tan. If people tanned on one side. During the winter. Over night.
“You look like hell today.” Charlie said in greeting.
“Thank you. You look like horse shit—oh, but that’s every day.” Adrian spat. “My bad.”
Charlie decided not to take offense. The blue haired boy had obviously seen the bad end of a fight, and Charlie didn’t want to provoke him into another one.
“Who’d you get into it with, Woodland?” he asked softly.
Adrian’s eyes examined Charlie, who found he had to stifle a shiver. Something about the way the black eyes focused on him, the pale face calculating his question.
“It’s not your business, Hunt.” The brush off was empty of spite. Adrian drew a deep breath. “Think we’ll finish the gym today?”
Charlie nodded and swung his backpack onto his shoulders. They walked silently.
Charlie noticed every stiff movement, every sharp intake of breath, every soft oath the paler boy let out. At first, he felt a sort of admiration for the boy’s stoicism, but as time passed, he realized just how much it must hurt. After half an hour, he couldn’t bite his tongue any longer.
“Just stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop working so that you’ll stop hissing and cursing and generally being sore.”
Adrian narrowed his eyes, as though he was deciding whether or not to be angry. “I don’t think that I’ll stop being sore even if I stop moving,” he admitted. “And besides, I can’t stop. Detention, remember? Can’t have you running off to Rogan complaining about how I didn’t work.”
“I wouldn’t. I’m not cruel. Anyone could see you’re fucked up.” Charlie said a little acidly. “Now sit down before I fuck you up worse.”
Adrian blanched. He looked like he was going to say something, but stopped himself and sat down. For the remaining half hour, he watched Adrian mop the floors.
Okay, so maybe not horseshit. For such an ass, that was the second nice thing he’s done since this whole thing started—since I started this whole thing. And maybe…
Adrian’s head grew a little fuzzy. What was he thinking? Of course Hunt was an ass. End of story. They’d never liked each other, and just because Hunt was becoming tolerable didn’t mean he was likable. But fact had it that Adrian wasn’t working, and Charlie was the one who’d make it that way, and he really didn’t like fighting. Really.
“Hunt.” Adrian called.
The brunette grunted.
“Hunt, it's time.”
Charlie wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “I’m almost done.”
Adrian watched him in silence for the next few minutes. Charlie flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed as he pushed the mop into the farthest corner. The floor gleamed like expensive lip-gloss had been poured over it. Adrian didn’t notice the floor so much as the triumphant young man smiling tiredly at his work.
“Looks good.” He called.
“Damn straight.” Charlie smiled.
As the brown-eyed boy approached, Adrian became inexplicably uncomfortable. Charlie sat down a few feet away from him and stretched. He pulled a bottle of water out of his bag and uncapped it, staring into space.
Adrian shifted his weight. “Thanks,” he said quietly, focusing on the same nothing that Charlie seemed to be. Charlie looked at him sideways. When Adrian glanced back, Charlie shrugged.
“Just looked like you could take a break, is all.”
Adrian nodded. He stood slowly, shouldered his bag, and left.
Chapter 4 (not up yet!)
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