Status: Finished! Thank you so much for reading!

Won't Turn Out Right

Chapter 24

There were two things that Johnny hated more than anything in the world.

One, big family dinners. And, two, jail.

Sitting behind bars (in jail... not at dinner... although... never mind) is one of the worst feelings you can ever experience. He's done it before, and it has never gotten any easier.

He was sitting in county jail, waiting for his one phone call, sitting across the room from some stupid, brown-haired kid. The boy looked to be around 15 or so, clenching and unclenching his fists, moving his leg up and down nervously. His shoes squeaked as they hit the ground every time. Johnny glared, biting his lip and gritting his teeth.

Phones rang and metal clanged. Voices screamed and whispered and strained. Johnny cracked his knuckles and his neck, sucking on his teeth. He stared at the kid who was staring straight down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs, still shaking his right leg, and now, his left. Making two different squeaking noises back and forth and back and forth. He stood up slowly and edged his way to the bars.

"I'd like that phone call now-"

"Shut up. You'll get it when you get it. What's your hurry?" He answered the cop who was sitting at his desk, not bothering to face him. His legs were propped up across a bunch of papers, his arms were relaxed behind his head.

"I think I'm going to commit first degree murder in another 20 seconds if you don't let me out of this cell right now." The shoe squeaking stopped. Johnny felt his eyelid twitch. The cop sighed and turned around to him, dragging his feet of the desk, letting a couple papers slide. He took out of a pair of handcuffs, walking to the cell with a look of contempt. Johnny slid his hands into the designated slot, the cold metal giving him goose bumps. He turned his head back to the kid, who stared at him with a straight face, making Johnny even angrier. He didn't let it show, but his eyelid twitched once more, briefly.

The handcuffs were slapped across his wrists, and he slid them back out. The cop opened the doors, taking Johnny roughly by his shoulder and leading him out, slamming the bars shut behind him and locking them quickly with one hand. They walked by two other cells with two men to each. The cop shoved 75 cents into the payphone and put the phone into Johnny's hands. He smiled cryptically and sat down on a bench next to the phone.

Johnny had debated in the cell who he should waste his phone call on.

He didn't have a lawyer, so that was out of the question. He had considered the guys briefly, but he couldn't risk them being busy with the girl or busy with... business. So, he pushed the thought out of his head rather quickly. Of course.

For some reason the first person that came to mind was... well. This person was the only option in Johnny's mind. This person would be angry, but he'd been angry before, and has helped Johnny out, nonetheless.

Johnny found his fingers suddenly dialing a familiar number, waiting through three rings nervously before finally he picked up.



"...Speaking. Who's this?" Johnny cleared his throat, embarrassed.

"Kevin, it's Johnny."

"...Oh. Oh, I see." There was another pause and then suddenly the dial tone rang loudly in his ears. Johnny opened his eyes up wide, letting his mouth hang open slightly.

His own brother had hung up on him.


"You see that horizon?" I blinked at the tall man.

"Which one?" He shook his head, putting his cards down gently. He held my chin in his long fingers, turning my head to my left. "Oh, that horizon. What about it?"

"It's dying. Withering and falling and failing. Dying. We can't fix it and neither can you. Everyone dies. Everything dies. It can't be helped. So, you just have to hold on and enjoy the ride. Make the most of what you have because tomorrow it might be gone. You might be dead. The sun might be dead. God, whoever that may be, might be dead and gone." I frowned at him.

"Why did you just say that?" He picked up his cards as the other three men in the circle sighed.

"Pick up your cards, bumblebee." I looked into their eyes, and finally closed my eyes, looking away from them. I took the pile in front of me and shuffled through them. They were all blank. I felt my stomach pang with surprise and nervousness.

"Wait! My cards! Something happened!" The sad man glanced them over quickly with a shrug.

"What's wrong with them? They look fine to me." I stared at them with shock, but stayed silent. When it came to my turn I bit my lip and hesitated.

"I just have to put one down?" They nodded. I let out a short and quiet sigh, taking the one on the very far right and putting it down. I looked at them with expectation. They stared down at the card for a while before nodding.

"Good one." The green-eyed man put down his card quickly, but I was stuck on mine. I let my eyes fall to it and saw that it now held the picture of my mother as bright and lively as she was when I was young.

The green-eyed man put down the picture of a paint can. The sad man put down a picture of a beer can. And, the tall man put down a picture of a little blond kid with the same bright blue eyes as him.

I sighed, picking out another random card and put it down. It held the picture of an elephant. The all rolled their eyes.

"You always use that one." I stared at the green-eyed man with an open mouth.

"I've never seen that card before in my entire.... I've never.... This game...." I swallowed the lump beginning to form in my throat. I stared at the stupid elephant in anger and confusion. "I don't understand."

I suddenly felt a strange choking feeling and a sort of pressure on my chest. I gasped and clutched my hand to my heart, pressing down, and heaving for breaths.

"What'd you do?" I stood up as they looked away. I staggered my way to the mad man, taking his shirt in my hands tightly. "Help. What's happening?" He sighed, still glaring at the sea.

"You're done here." He finally looked to me, his eyes softening into a blank expression. He put one hand on the back of my head and one hand holding my nose, and kissed me.
♠ ♠ ♠
Wow. Wow.


I am so fucking tired. I'm sorry this is up so fucking late. I haven't had shit time for writing because of play practice and fucking school. Dude, I had play practice until 9:00 on Friday.

9 o fucking clock. On a fucking Friday.

I've been working on a 7-10 page fucking research paper that I had stayed up until 4:00 on a Wednesday morning writing because I had a conference with my teacher that day. We had a fucking snow day and I had to reschedual. I still have to finish and fucking refine it. Fuck monkies. I still have to pick a date. But I have no time for it. That period on Wednesday was like the only off period that both me and my teacher have.

I also have to worry about my college audition because I have no fucking clue what it entails. I've got to meet with my band teacher so we can figure SOMETHING out. rawrrawrrawr.

GAH. I wrote this in like the last two hours becacuse I write ten times better at night and because I'm still trying to fucking recover from this goddamn week.

I will swear as much as I fucking damn well please.

Thank you to Miscreation, Sister Ginger, megean doesn't know., PaperLung, The Vampirate, and SynysterXfoREVer for commenting. Those comments are the highlight of my week. Just so you know.

Again, I'm so sorry that this is so goddamn late, and I'll try to do a little better this week. I'm just really super duper angry at the moment, but I've got a pretty nice break right now because there's a "Murder, She Wrote" SUPER-marathon on the Hallmark channel (XD) this weekend showing non-stop episodes for three days, and I've been playing my 'Aw Sugar' love song playlist on my I-Pod over and over again.

I'm getting better.

I love you all. I will see you next Saturday and not Sunday. I promise.