The Things I'll Never Say

Bzz Bzz Bzz

Goddamn fucking alarm clock. Mercilessly dragging me from my cozy bed. What did I ever do to you?

Inspiration.

That could be a good song.

I reach for my journal on my nightstand, next to my offensive alarm clock.

Drag…ging… me… from… my… dream… world. What… did… I… do… to… you?

My eyes scanned the page and I smiled in approval. These were some kickass lyrics, if I may say so myself. I had to remember to tell Alec…

I reached for my box of Camel lights and my zip lighter. Swiftly, I light my cigarette and brought it to my lips. Ahh, there is nothing like the feeling of tar slowly filling your lungs.

“Mason,” my mom yelled, “Are you smoking? You know I don’t like you smoking in the house!”

I rolled my eyes, “No, mom. I’m not smoking.” I said as I inhaled another drag.

“Okay…” She said, like she didn’t believe me.

Damn. She was good.

I sighed and put the cigarette out, throwing the rest of my love in the garbage.

“Thank you! Now come down for breakfast. Your pancakes are getting cold!”

How the fuck did she know I stopped smoking the MOMENT I put it out? I grew up listening to my mom telling me that if I ever did anything bad, she would know. When I asked how, she would say, “It’s a mom thing.” Weird part is, every time I get in trouble, she knows before I, or someone else, tells her.

I moaned. I didn’t want to get up. I. Wanted. To. SLEEP. But the idea of pancakes was really tempting. Call me cheesy, but my mom’s pancakes put IHOP to shame. Legit.

I rolled out of bed and stood up, stretching. I pulled on a pair of jeans over my boxers and a button up shirt over my wife beater. I brushed my hair off my face and looked in the mirror.

I looked DAMN good.

I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. Before sitting at the breakfast bar with the rest of my crazy, dysfunctional family, I stopped by the stove and kissed my mom on the cheek.
She pushed me off.

“Mason, really? You know I hate it when you smoke. Why are you getting up in my face when you smell like secondhand smoke?”

“Because I loooovee you.” I replied in a singsong voice

She swiped at me, trying to hide the smirk on her face.

It didn’t work.

I sat down at the breakfast bar next to my five year old sister, Isla. She gave me the stink eye as I poured half a bottle of maple syrup on my pancakes.

“What?” I asked

“You stole my dolly.” She said, pouting.

Why the fuck did she I would steal her dumb ass doll?

“No, I didn’t. I bet you Juliet did, though.” Her eyes filled with fury.

Bang, bang, bang.

My thirteen year old sister, Juliet, stomped down the stairs, all dressed in black.

It was plain to see that her current flavor of the week was now an ex.

She sat down on the other side of Isla and stared at the plate of pancakes.

“So. Whose heart did you break this time?” I asked.

“MASON!” My mom snapped, turning around.

“What?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders. Did I say something wrong? My mom just rolled her eyes and went back to making pancakes.

Juliet’s lip began to quiver.

Aw, shit.

She burst into full out sobs, “Noah cheated on me!” She wailed, burying her head in her arms.

I couldn’t help it. I had to say it.

“How do thirteen year olds cheat on each other?” I questioned, “Do they hold another chick’s hand?”

“Mason!” My mom gave me the warning glare, but didn’t raise her voice. She had her daily dose of the amazingness that was Mason.

“Well, I’m out. Peace, dogs.” I said, flashing my peace sign to my three women.

Heh heh. Three women.

I threw my backpack over my shoulder and went into the garage. I opened the back door of my car, tossing my book bag into the backseat. I shut the door and then climbed into the passenger seat. I started the car and then lit a cigarette. My school had this dumb ass rule about no smoking on property. So, it was a daily ritual for me to smoke as many cigarettes as possible while driving to school. My record was two and a half.

When I got to school, I found my man, Alec.

“Alec! Man!” I said, bumping fists with him. Alec and I had been friends since we were in diapers, “Dude I…”

And then…

I saw her.

Dark brown hair, tied up in a loose pony tail. She wore ripped jeans and an Old Navy Sweatshirt. She had an LL Bean book bag over her shoulder, and I don’t think I’ve seen anything sadder than the look on her face. She was biting down on her lip, making it turn white. She was looking at the ground, sorrow in her eyes as she shuffled down the hall.

Then, suddenly, she stopped at a classroom, pulling the door open and rushing in, slamming the door behind her.

She intrigued me. And I don’t know why.

Who was she?