Troubles

After a long day of school, I don’t bother meeting up with the rest of the guys. I didn’t go to lunch, so I haven’t seen them all day. I hid in a classroom. I didn’t have any money to buy lunch for anyway, so I just sat in an abandoned classroom, drinking a lot of water to cheat my stomach into thinking that it's full.

It didn’t work. All it did was fill up my bladder so that I had to go to the bathroom twice during class. My English teacher now hates me. Not that I care about her.
Gerard hates me now.

I walk along the busy road to get to the bus stop. I might as well go to Newark now. The shelter doesn’t open until 8, but the soup kitchens in Belleville are always closed between 3 and 6 and there’s one in Newark that “already” opens at 5.

When I finally reach the bus stop and look at the time table, I see that a bus has just left. Typical. At least it’s not raining. The sky is clear blue, barely any clouds on it.

I stick my hands in my pockets and stare at the people rushing around inside the glass building across the road. Stuff like that always makes me feel better about going to school. In school, you don’t have to wear a suit or look proper. You have deadlines, but the teachers can’t fire you if you don’t do your homework or hand in your assignments. They can flunk you, but they can’t deny you an education.
I don’t ever want to work, but I have to once I turn 16 and will be able to get a real job – not just a job as a paper-boy.

“Frank!” someone yells, and I don’t have to move my eyes very far to see who it is. Across the street, in front of the glass building, is a car. Out the window of the car is Ray’s head.
“Where’re you going?” he yells, just before a car drives by with great speed.

“Newark!” I yell back, trying to be social and nice. They are my friends, but Ray is more Gerard’s friend than mine. And Mikey is Gerard’s brother. Basically, what is holding this group together is Gerard. A guy who now hates me.

“Great! That’s where we’re-” A car drives by and cuts off the rest of Ray’s sentence as well as the glance of Gerard I catch. He’s in the passenger seat, arms crossed, looking bitter.
“You want a-“ A truck drives by.
I wait for the long truck to get the fuck away, before I yell back to Ray;

“What?”

“Get over here!” he screams. I roll my eyes, check the time to see that the bus is supposed to be here in 20, then sprint across the road before the UPS-truck down the road gets too close. A car honks at me, but doesn’t slow down. I sprint faster.
When I reach Ray’s car, I lean against it as I catch my breath. Jersey traffic is murder.
“You want a ride?” I look down at Ray. His unusually large head is still sticking out of the open window. Or maybe it’s just his hair that makes his head seem so huge.
“We’re going to the big mall in Newark.” Gerard isn’t looking at me, but is apparently very engaged in the ballet of suits in the glass building. I glance at my clock, before I shrug.

“Sure,” I say and get in the car. I quickly slam the door shut before a bus takes off with it.

“Where’re you going?” Ray asks over his shoulder, before he steps on the gas and pulls out into the insane afternoon-traffic. A few horns go off, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or care.
Where am I going? Excuse…

“I’m going to my grandma’s. She lives right next to the cemetery.” Right in the cemetery is more like it. But the cemetery is also right next to the soup kitchen.

“Alright,” Ray says, before he slams his hand into the horn and honks repeatedly. I just lean back and trust that he won’t crash.

“Didn’t your grandmother die last year?” Gerard asks. Fuck Gerard. Fuck him and his fucking great memory and fuck my own goddamn inability to not share every-fucking-thing with him.

“That was my other grandmother,” I quickly lie, before I turn to look out the window, showing Gerard that I’m just as good at ignoring him as he is at ignoring me. Heck; I’m better. I can keep my fucking mouth shut, for one.