Status: Getting started, yo.
Ezzy
Asleep.
I finally made my way into the town, screening my face with my navy blue jacket, hiding from all the local teenagers. They didn't see ME, they didn't know ME, they saw GAY. I don't know why it mattered so damn much to everyone in this community. They could go ahead and stab me with cruel words, and yet listen to Adam Lambert. The parents were the same, but they listened to Boy George instead. My parents were hard enough on me as it was, my dad especially ashamed in me.
It was strange, because my family wasn't religious, they were just protective on how their “image” looked, their “reputation”, that's usually why I spent most my time away from them.
“Where have you been?” Mom asked me, not that she really cared. It was just her job to act like she did. “Where's my car?” Oh crap. I stuttered and bit my lip nervously. “Esmeralda Elise! I let you use my car and you treat it like trash!” Just because you treat something like garbage, doesn't mean it isn't. “Hand over YOUR keys.”
“Like I need them anyway,” I grumbled. It was getting dark and late when we had to go car searching, which wasn't hard to find. I had to hear my mother ramble about how fed up she was with me the whole car ride, that was the difficult part. I didn't dare ask about movie night, or even think it. She continued on about how disappointed she was in me, and I just sighed and rested my head on the window as it made a 'bu-bump' noise as it hit it. It wasn't comfortable, but it drowned my mother's lecture out and replaced it with a blaring migraine. Migraine> Mom.
“Hey, do you have any cash I could borrow?” Chop texted me. Mom peered over hands trying to read the message, completely ignoring her driving etiquette she must have been taught at one point or another. Chop was famous for robbing his friends of cash, but he had a good heart. Mom knew how he always left me with empty pockets, and that's part of the reason both of them despised one another. “You better not lend that boy any money,” my mother advised.
“I have no money to lend,” I said. “Quit badgering me,” I murmured quietly under my breath.
*
When I got home, Jack was in my room chilling with a magazine. Jack always came over when no one was home, like it was his nature. I adapted to it quick, and as far as I knew, Mom had no idea about his appearance here. “Hey,” I said casually as he kicked his shoes to the floor and laid on my bed. “When did you get here?”
“About a half hour ago. Man, you'd think you'd killed a man with all that yapping your mom does,” he said, not looking up from his magazine. His bini had been tossed to the floor revealing his greasy, chestnut locks.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Part of it is because I'm gay. She grills me twice as hard as she should. If she gets any excuse to yell at me she will, but she'll never admit it's because she's ashamed of me.” A gross stench filled my nostrils and I stacked my legs on Jack's feet. “You should really get some new socks. They'll damage your new kicks.”
“Bitch.”
“Smelly.”
“Gay.”
“No lifer.” We stopped there. It's what we always did, fought without an actual cause and then cooled it down before it got really hot. It was always halted before we could consider it bad, or things got too personal. I was sensitive about my sexuality and Jack was delicate of his free-schedule. He never had anything going on, or going for him. His parents always got on him about it too, telling him he had little time to find out what he was going to do with himself. I wished my mom cared that much, she just yells about stupid crap that will never affect me later.
I sat on my pink satin comforter in happiness watching Edward Scissor Hands on my laptop, next to Jack who flipped the pages of the latest issue of Rolling Stone. I fell asleep half way during the movie and woke up around 12 to find Jack had left.
I curled up in some blankets and shut my computer off. I could hear the muffled noise of my mother and father bickering over something, that something probably being me. I was relevant in all their controversies. Mom screamed as Dad raised his voice even louder and then it eventually stopped. I plugged in my earbuds in case the noise started again.
It was strange, because my family wasn't religious, they were just protective on how their “image” looked, their “reputation”, that's usually why I spent most my time away from them.
“Where have you been?” Mom asked me, not that she really cared. It was just her job to act like she did. “Where's my car?” Oh crap. I stuttered and bit my lip nervously. “Esmeralda Elise! I let you use my car and you treat it like trash!” Just because you treat something like garbage, doesn't mean it isn't. “Hand over YOUR keys.”
“Like I need them anyway,” I grumbled. It was getting dark and late when we had to go car searching, which wasn't hard to find. I had to hear my mother ramble about how fed up she was with me the whole car ride, that was the difficult part. I didn't dare ask about movie night, or even think it. She continued on about how disappointed she was in me, and I just sighed and rested my head on the window as it made a 'bu-bump' noise as it hit it. It wasn't comfortable, but it drowned my mother's lecture out and replaced it with a blaring migraine. Migraine> Mom.
“Hey, do you have any cash I could borrow?” Chop texted me. Mom peered over hands trying to read the message, completely ignoring her driving etiquette she must have been taught at one point or another. Chop was famous for robbing his friends of cash, but he had a good heart. Mom knew how he always left me with empty pockets, and that's part of the reason both of them despised one another. “You better not lend that boy any money,” my mother advised.
“I have no money to lend,” I said. “Quit badgering me,” I murmured quietly under my breath.
*
When I got home, Jack was in my room chilling with a magazine. Jack always came over when no one was home, like it was his nature. I adapted to it quick, and as far as I knew, Mom had no idea about his appearance here. “Hey,” I said casually as he kicked his shoes to the floor and laid on my bed. “When did you get here?”
“About a half hour ago. Man, you'd think you'd killed a man with all that yapping your mom does,” he said, not looking up from his magazine. His bini had been tossed to the floor revealing his greasy, chestnut locks.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Part of it is because I'm gay. She grills me twice as hard as she should. If she gets any excuse to yell at me she will, but she'll never admit it's because she's ashamed of me.” A gross stench filled my nostrils and I stacked my legs on Jack's feet. “You should really get some new socks. They'll damage your new kicks.”
“Bitch.”
“Smelly.”
“Gay.”
“No lifer.” We stopped there. It's what we always did, fought without an actual cause and then cooled it down before it got really hot. It was always halted before we could consider it bad, or things got too personal. I was sensitive about my sexuality and Jack was delicate of his free-schedule. He never had anything going on, or going for him. His parents always got on him about it too, telling him he had little time to find out what he was going to do with himself. I wished my mom cared that much, she just yells about stupid crap that will never affect me later.
I sat on my pink satin comforter in happiness watching Edward Scissor Hands on my laptop, next to Jack who flipped the pages of the latest issue of Rolling Stone. I fell asleep half way during the movie and woke up around 12 to find Jack had left.
I curled up in some blankets and shut my computer off. I could hear the muffled noise of my mother and father bickering over something, that something probably being me. I was relevant in all their controversies. Mom screamed as Dad raised his voice even louder and then it eventually stopped. I plugged in my earbuds in case the noise started again.
♠ ♠ ♠
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