Ezzy

“I know I saw you,” I said leaving a monster of a voicemail on Jack's phone. He wouldn't pick up any of my calls, and failed to return any of my messages. I felt neglected, like the best friend I had had all my life wanted nothing to do with me. It was an odd feeling, trying to cope without Jack. I felt sad all the time, but then I also felt bored. More and more of my free time was being sucked up by Facebook, and Brad.

I more liked listening to Brad than I did talking to him. We didn't have a lot in common, except Brad liked to say stuff, and I liked to hear stuff. He explained in great detail about his home life, how his mom was a beautician, his father was a spokesperson man at a successful clothing man, his sister *beautiful*. Of course he never said beautiful, but it was hard not to.

Why couldn't I stop thinking about Jessica? Sometimes I wanted to call her Jesse.

When you complain so much about your life, you begin to feel the energy become pulled slowly out of you, like a never ending rope. I was tired of complaining, and I called Chop. He answered with a cough and sneeze. Ah, he dreaded the day he would get the spreading influenza.

Chop had this amazing immune system, he rarely ever got sick. Which is weird, because his did is wheezing uncontrollably as he slumps groggily around the house every day. His mom was a severe smoker, so I'm guessing that's why she hacked up unidentifiable wads of gunk. At least I hope so.

“You can come over if you want,” Chop said, still being the happy-go-lucky guy he was. I hesitated answering him, trying not to come off rude, but didn't want to come off desperate either. It was tough when you had nowhere to go and nothing to do, but a friend who sounded deadly over the phone, invited you kindly to hang out. Why do I keep using you? Because I don't want to use I. I don't want to say it's me.

I ended up sneaking over to Chop's. Honestly, there really wasn't a need to be sly when maneuvering out the heavy, front door. Mom wouldn't care if I was gone, and Dad would be overjoyed.

I threw my over-night bag equipped with some old, plaid red and green boxers, with a baggy gray T shirt and some knee-high socks. My cell phone along with its tangled black Motorola charger jumped loosely around the back seat as I drove crazily around the roads. The tan-gray steering wheel felt sticky, like it had absorbed some unknown-to-man goo over night.

Chop greeted me at the door, and when I waved hello to his father who was wheezing remorselessly over a trash can with some 2-ply tissues gripped in his tan, large hands. Chop had the same hands, with the dirt trapped grossly under his fingernails. I wanted to suggest that may be why he was sick, but sat at the end of his bed.

“You look upset, dude,” Chop said putting in one earbud as he hopped onto his twin bed. His head rested up against five dark blue pillows that were stacked along the head of his bed. He crossed his arms and waited for me to spill, but it was hard confessing to Chop, even if we were friends. “C'mon, I know you tell Jack this stuff.” I was silent. “I mean Roe.”

“I tell Roe nothing,” I snapped back sharply. Roe had been getting on my nerves lately, even if I did love her. I swear sometimes she thinks I'm into her like that, and gets all awkward around me. If I sling my arm around her like a drunken hill billy she assumes I want to get to second base. I guess we were only friends because I had known her too long to get rid of her. “And I can't tell Jack anything... Do you know where he is? Have you talked to him at all?” The questions poured out of my mouth faster than I had thought.

Chop brought both his skinny arms back behind his head and stared at me with an Asian psycho-path look. Sometimes I thought he was Asian, but he didn't look it. “I talked to him earlier today.” I crinkled my nose and my mouth twitched angrily to the side. “Ez, you know what's been going on. He told me you knew.”

“Yeah, I know. His parents think 'Ezzy the lezzy' is trying to turn him over to this satan-worshipping club I was born into...” He laughed at my metaphor, mocking this town and all its stupid opinions. There were sluts in the school, girls who kissed girls, and everyone was still okay with that because they knew they were doing it to impress guys. But when I told Roe I was a lesbian, and the word got out everyone thought I had an STD and a penis.

“It's not like that,” he said. I looked around his room, my eyes gliding across the miscellaneous posters of unheard bands around the world. A candle was lit in the corner that smelled a lot like cinnamon, next to a bean bag chair laid out with some old Spin magazines. He was such a hipster.

“Tell me what it's like then, Chop. He was my best friend. I still have the gang, but we're missing a link. He doesn't come to school anymore... And when he came over...” He stopped trying to talk and looked straight into my eyes. “Yeah, he came over and had the nerve to sleep on my couch then ditch. And my parents act like it has never happened, so whatever. He can use my house for shelter, but can't give me one good explanation on why he won't talk to me.”

“Because if he does, he'll get hurt.”