The Way We Talk

Christian needs a cigarette.

I can always tell when he's ready for a smoke break. His hand starts shaking like a crack addict's, and he can't stop fidgeting- playing with pencils, tapping his finger on the closest surface, adjusting his posture in his seat. He'll close his eyes and sigh every few seconds before he gets up to find his pack and heads outside.

The whole process lasts a few minutes, almost like clockwork, but the boy's being doing what I refer to as "butt-dancing" for the past fifteen minutes.

I look up from my physics text. "Christian, do you want to take a cigarette break?"

"No," he snaps, then softens his expression at my puzzled face, "I mean, yes, desperately, but I'm quitting."

"And what brought this on?" I ask, though I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.

He sighs again, drumming against the lid of his Macbook. "Maria's been bitching a lot about my smoking. My mom hates it. You don't like it all that much either. So, I'm gunna stop."

That's the thing about Christian. He's full of these crazy ideas. We're both dreamers, yes, but at least my schemes are based on comprehendible logic. Anyway, only in this ridiculous boy's brain would it be possible to kick a pack-a-day habit on the first try. I live with two former smokers. It took my mom many attempts and slowdowns to finally kick the habit, and she was only at half a pack before she started to quit. As I said, crazy boy.

"The craving will go away soon enough," he attempts to reassure me, clicking around on his screen, "though these problems are honestly making it worse."

I pat his shoulder. "I'll send you the formulas for the Lon-Capa problems when I figure them out."

"You just had to want us to take physics together." He shakes his head, but he's smirking all the same.

I shrug, taking his Macbook and studying the tension problem. This shouldn't be hard at all. "Hey, you could have taken another Psych course, but you said no."

"I needed a lab science GCR to finish up my requirement. We could have taken something like Astrology or a cushy geology class. You know, something that doesn't require multi-variable calculus."

I pause from setting up Newton's second law. "I'd hardly classify this as multivariable calculus, Climer. It's algebra- you remember that math you took early in high school, right?"

"Well, I'm sorry, Miss Super-Good-At-Math." And with that, he grabs my arm and sinks his teeth into my shoulder.

"Stop biting me, Edward Cullen," I whine, hitting him on the back, "Your girlfriend hates me enough without you giving me revenge hickeys every time I call you stupid."

He frowns at that, then pats me on the head. "I have to head to my voice lesson anyway. Go bug Maika for Philosophy help or something."

I pout rather immaturely as Christian gathers his stuff and leaves. I grab my book and knock on Maika's door. A voice tells me to enter, and I do.

I'e been inside Maika's room a few times. On a scale from one to ten, a one being Dave's personal biohazard zone (plus bed) and a ten being Kamrada's surprising neat-freakness, Maika's a good, solid six. His bed is unmade and his hamper is overflowing with clothes. His dresser wouldn't pass a white glove test, but it's over all clean enough. Maika himself is in his desk chair, and turns away from what I assume is Facebook.

"I need help with a concept from this section from Anselm.," I state, taking a seat on his bed and flipping to the first page of the Ontological Argument.

Maika takes a seat next to me and scans the article. He's a philosophy minor, something that everyone says makes him more of an obnoxious, argumentative intellectual, but it suits him.

"Is he trying to argue that he's real because of conditions of the term 'God'?"

"Yes," Maika responds, then tsks, "I hate the Ontological Argument, especially Anselm's discourse. Basically, because possible objects can be greater than they are and there is nothing greater than God, God must be real in both the body and mind. It's exactly what you think it's talking about. Personally, I think it's more of a shitty use of definition than any tangible proof."

I grin. "Thank you. Good to know that I understand some of this stuff."

He laughs. "It's just a part of the brain that isn't often exercised, seriously." He pauses, then flicks my hair over my shoulder. "Nice bite marks, Saunders."

I roll my eyes. Already? "Your roommate seems to think he's a vampire. As if I needed another reason to hate Twilight."

He snorts. "You know, if I hadn't known Christian since he was a fifteen-year old dweeb with a Fender, I'd honestly think something was going on with you two."

I grin at this. "So he wasn't always like this or something?" I retort cheekily, ignoring the fact that me and Christian have a sketchy relationship (not new) to focus on poking fun at him.

"We've all changed a lot since high school," Maika admits, hopping up to go back to Facebook, "Except for Jay. He's always been short, Puerto Rican, and attached at the hip to Clarke McWilliams."

"What about the rest of you?"

"I was getting to that," Maika snaps playfully, clicking on an album entitled "WE ARE TFT", "I met Chris Kamrada in 5th grade. We played Pop Warner football and we thought we were the shit. He started playing with Jay, and Chris's mom called my mom and we formed the band." He pauses at a picture of Kamrada sitting on a trash can, pants around his ankles, and I wince. Attractive. "Chris was always a little bitch. He was, for lack of a better word, the slut, and none of us thought that he'd be able to hold a girlfriend down, ever. Then he met Deeanna and did a 180, blah blah blah, he still hasn't recovered."

He flips to the next picture, one of a younger, chubbier version of himself. "I was a fatass in high school. Seriously. I mean, I slimmed down towards the end for this manly physique," he lifts his shirt a little at this, to which I giggle. "But yeah. And I dated Valerie Mills from half-way through eighth grade to four days before I left for college."

I stare at Maika at this new piece of information. Maika Maile, easily one of the biggest hook-up kings at GW, was previously in a four-and-a-half year long relationship.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," he nudges me with his elbow at that, then continues, "I needed a fresh start. Like, Val was awesome. But I grew out of her. And she kept talking about getting married and having kids, which freaked me the fuck out. Haven't had a steady girlfriend since."

He hits the next photo, which features a girl around the age of sixteen and a grinning, slightly younger version of Maika. She is of medium height and slender, with long, wavy blonde hair. A quick look at the bottom tags identifies her as Valerie Mills. "Needed your independence after all that time?"

He nods. "All the other guys had their time to screw around with girls. Well, not Jay, but he never really wanted to. He got it right the first time, the lucky bastard," he says, sounding almost jealous of his bassist, "But Climer and Kamrada definitely did their dicking around in high school. I'm a late bloomer, I guess."

"What was Christian like in high school?" I ask, resting my head on his shoulder as we reach a picture of the boy himself and Jay on a playground, ridiculous expressions on their faces.

Maika points to Christian's gangly teenage frame as it appears to be pelvic thrusting a jungle gym. "Christian was weird, quiet, stuttering disaster until he lost his virginity a few days after his sixteenth birthday. Returned to school a changed man. He claims that he was blown by half the cheerleading squad junior year, but knowing Christian, it was two and he rounded up. But of course, he settled down with good 'ole Ice Bitch at the end of Freshman year."

I frown. As If I needed a reminder. A picture of a slightly younger Maria Sentauri flashes onto the screen. It takes me a second to realize that the person with their arm around her isn't a girl, and yet another to recognize it as Christian. "Nice hair, Climer."

Maika chuckles. "He was a walking identity crisis. Didn't know he wanted to be. Eventually, Maria decided for him."

No surprise there. Climer's a weird kind of whipped. He does what he wants unless Maria is around, and in that case, he bends to her will. I'm not sure if it's because he loves her or if he just doesn't want to fight again.

"Do you guys even like Maria?" I find myself asking.

Maika laughs, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. "I like Maria Sentauri. I despise Maria the Jealous Monster. I'm afraid you've only met the latter."

I sigh and Maika slings an arm over my shoulders. "I'm completely serious. It takes awhile for her to warm up to people, but she's rarely downright rude. She feels so threatened by you, Ric, and as much as I like you as well, I can't blame her at all for it. He trusts you more than he trusts her, you know."

I know that Maika's words are supposed to be comforting, but they really aren't. In fact, it proves that she's not the monster- I am.

--

It was only a matter of time before Maria Sentauri found my formspring.

luckyricky (10)

why can't you pursue someone without a girlfriend, you stupid freshman skank?

christian doesn't want your std-infested cunt. stop trying.

deeanna hates you. chris hates you. maika hates you. jay hates you. christian hates you. see, i'm not the only one, whore.

hey come back to maine for pancakes-from katydidwhat

go back to maine and fuck your cousin

the only thing more desperate than a tramp stamp is an angel wing tat. grow the fuck up.

do the world a favor and off yourself like your old bf.

god, were you such a bad gf that matt had to kill himself just to get away from you?

i miss you. is it summer yet?-from fireinthemolly

one week til cancun :) - from footyfbaby

I shrug at the screen, then exhale heavily. I take a screenshot, entitle it "...and I'm immature?", then delete her messages. I head over to her own formspring.

ria_x3
ask me questions

you know, i considered your advice. but i've made my decision to live, if only just because i know how much it would piss you off.

I don't even bother to check anonymous. I don't give a shit and I don't have anything to lose here.