Camisado

I slowed as I came upon him and saw his soft brown eyes gazing back at me. He smiled toothlessly and waved. Shit, I've been spotted. Oh god, why? Help me to get through this without causing him physical harm. "Hey, Genny!" Ryan said enthusiastically as I slowed my pace so we walked next to one another. "What's up?" he asked, looking over at me. I felt sick to my stomach. What the heck is wrong with me? I'm insane. I hate Ryan and he hates me and usually when two people hate each other as much as we do they don't talk to one another but for some reason, we can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Uhh," I stammered. My palms started sweating violently as I thought about having to have a humane conversation with a member of the opposite sex. You'd think a sixteen year old girl would know how to talk to a guy without freaking out, but I'm pretty sure I mentioned before that I'm pretty weird. "I just, uh, saw you here, walking, and so I decided to say hi?" I half asked. He was looking at me the way I deserved to be looked at. He looked confused and weirded out with a pinch of what-the-heck. What can I say? It’s not like Brendon had written down what I was supposed to say. It’s almost as if I could see him repeatedly banging his head against a wall until it causes a rupture to his skull that creates major long term brain damage. My idiocy drives people to do crazy things. I'm almost positive that everyone I know will eventually end up in a mental facility.

"Uh okay, cool," was Ryan’s response. We continued to walk down the path side by side. This was really weird. I mean the day I thought Ryan and I would stop hating would each other be the day people stop thinking Canadians say aye and drink maple syrup like water. I'm pretty sure the stereotype remains.

The silence we walked in was awkward, but strangely civil. I didn't like it one bit. I think I was actually more comfortable with our fighting and fleeting glares than i was comfortable with this. I looked at him for a moment. He was staring at the ground looking as though he was in deep thought. He was probably wondering why I was being so nice to him. I would have wondered too.

Suddenly Ryan broke our silence. "hey I was wondering," he said, "Brendon, Spencer, me and a friend are having a party at Spencer’s tonight," he told me, looking over to meet my eyes a few short times, "do you, uh, wanna come?" I was lightly astounded when he asked if I wanted to come. I had never been invited to a party in my high school career. It seemed apparent that I ruined them. Anyone who invited me to a party shouldn't expect anyone else to come, I just would ruin it.

Why were these guys so nice to me? What did I ever do to them to make them like me so much? I've been nothing but horrible to them, yet my attitude didn't seem to bother them whatsoever. Either these guys are even more insane than myself or they're the only genuine people on the western half of the US. I'm thinking it's the former.

I really didn't know how to answer the question, so I did something stupid and spoke before I thought. "You really want me there?" I raised a cynical eyebrow at him, unable to keep the skeptic in me from escaping. This had to be a joke, and I was even surer of it when he looked at my completely shocked face and burst into a musical laugh. I glared mincingly at him, pushing up my now sweaty sleeves. I haven't punched anyone in a long time; I must be losing my touch. I brought my arm back, ready to send a nice bruise-bringing slug into his stomach when he said through his laughter, "Of course we want you to come!" like it was the most obvious thing in the whole god-forsaken world. I blinked repeatedly in annoyance for a few reasons. One, I was upset I didn't get to sock him in his gut. Two, I wished I didn't think he had the most beautiful laugh I'd ever heard. And three, the fact I had been laughed at.

But then something struck me, "Why in the world would you want me at your party?" I asked, extremely and genuinely confused. Ryan shrugged, and smiled a bit as if feeling bashful.

"You’re kind of like Brendon," he said. Me? Like Brendon? Now I'm sure this guy is a nutcase. "You're funny, but you're less sunshine and roses," Ryan mused. I laughed at him.

"Brendon and I are almost as alike as a bugger and a fairy princess," I told him through a cruel, critical laugh. But he laughed again and smiled showing his pretty teeth.

"See?" he said, smiling at me, "you're funny." I scoffed.

"Okay, whatever dude." I responded rolling my eyes. He chuckled at me, which was weird, because it sounded funny. He placed his hands in his jean pockets, sighing. Again silence. I started to chew on what was left of my lips. Why did we even bother conversing if every time we did it ended like this? This was useless and we weren’t getting anywhere. Why am I here again? This is a complete and utter waste of time, it's ridiculous. I could be sleeping right now, in my nice bed. But I’m here, taking a walk with a guy that I despise with almost all of my being. Oh yeah, that makes sense. It's interesting how much peer pressure can affect people. I would never be here if it wasn't for Brendon's annoyingly persistent urging.

Ryan suddenly pulled out his cell phone to check the time, which affirmed me that he was indeed filthy rich. I'd never even seen a cell phone up close. My mother never worked a day in her life, and my dad was a pharmacist, so we didn't have a lot of money coming in. I never had a lot of expensive things, but I suppose that's because I didn't want them. I never felt the desire for anything back before my dad died because I was happy. I know, it's extremely hard to believe that I was happy at some point in my life, but I was. I swear.

I sighed as I realized I had no idea where the heck Ryan and I were, considering I had moved here two weeks ago. I looked around trying to see where we were, but still I had no idea. “Hey, uh, Ryan,” I started, looking over at him briefly, “where are you off to anyway?” I asked him, as we rounded the corner of the quiet neighbor hood to come to a busy intersection. I scratched at my denim clothed thighs. God, I hate this weather. In case you were wondering. Oh wait, you weren’t? Big surprise.

“I was going to pick up food, because my fridge is empty,” he said smiling at me as we crossed the street on a red light, “plus I was going to get some sodas and stuff for tonight.” He continued as we reached the sidewalk again. “You can come if you want.”

Oh great, yet another decision I have to make and screw up by choosing the wrong option. I hate my life. Yes, you may insert a dramatic sigh here. “Sure,” I said nonchalantly. Whatever, I needed him to get back anyways.Or so I rationalized.

Ryan and I walked across the parking lot and into the Safeway before us. As the automatic doors open for us, a rush of cool air came upon us in a form that they call air conditioning. What a beautiful thing. I then rationalized to myself I had come with Ryan because I was hot. Boy, I’m good at this rationalizing thing.

Ryan grabbed a cart, despite how I teased him about looking like a mom, and we started grabbing things off shelves. We bought chips, whipped cream, vanilla and chocolate ice cream, plus grape, orange, and cream soda; And a root beer for Brendon, because he refuses to drink anything else, besides red bull. I swear I’ve never seen him consume an ounce of water. I bet his pee is really yellow…I think way too much.

We continued to walk through the store, Ryan grabbing tons of junk food. He grabbed cookies, and doughnuts. He ate like Brendon drank. How are these guys not overweight?

Eventually we made it to the cash register. We watched in silence as the unfriendly cashier ran our items through the blinking red light. It must get awful repetitive,. Being a cashier and having to hear that beeping noise over and over again. I bet it drives them crazy. No wonder everyone here is so grumpy. The lady raised her head to look at the two of us with eyes that screamed, ‘go away I hate you’ but I tried not to think about it too much, hoping I hadn’t looked at anyone like that. Despite how much I hated people, that was one ugly look. “One hundred five and sixty seven cents,” the lady muttered, in the most impolite way ever. I looked over at Ryan who pulled a wad of cash out of his wallet and handed it to the lady. “Seven dollars and 43 cents is your change,” she said as Ryan began to grab the bags that contained our groceries.

“Keep it,” he said as he turned and walked away from the lady, out the door. I ran to catch up with him, astounded that he just left that lady with seven extra dollars. I mean really, that was good money!

“Ryan!” I called as we walked out of the store. I caught up to him, and walked at a fast pace next to him. “Why did you let her keep the money?” I asked, breathing heavily because he was walking so fast. He looked at me funny, laughing mildly as if I should know why he let her keep the money.

“It’s not like I need it,” he answered. There was a pause as I thought about that. So he was just being generous? Without a motive at all? I refrained from scoffing. That’s crazy talk. That’s retarded. I almost glared at him. I hate how perfect he is. Can I slap him? Or kill him so he can go be some sort of perfect angel in heaven? I bet we’ll still be fighting, even when we’re dead. Me as a little demon, and him a saint. I’d shoot a fireball at his butt and he’d be sitting there acting all holy and shit. “Plus, I though maybe it would cheer her up.” This time I did glare, my eyes facing towards the horizon. What a liar. No one in this world is that nice.

Right?