The Rules of Life

Once I got outside, I wasn’t sure how I was planning on getting home. I didn’t have a car and even if I did, I didn’t have my license. I had no money to call a cab. The only way I was getting home was if I walked. It was a long walk, longer than I would have liked. It was already dark and cold and I hadn’t worn my jacket inside since I felt it looked even grungier than I did. But I certainly didn’t want to wait right outside the restaurant in case Travis came out and offered me a ride home, mistaking my still being here as defeat. So I picked the direction I assumed was the right one and started walking.

The cold made goosebumps prickle on my exposed flesh and I wrapped my arms around my torso. I cursed myself as I walked. I should have just gone to the bathroom anyway and hid out in the stalls until he left. It would appear as though I left and I’d be able to stay warm and listen to bad bathroom music in the meantime. That still wouldn’t have solved the whole getting home issue but I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off currently.

As luck would have it, I’d barely made it out of the parking lot when a familiar car pulled up alongside me. The window rolled down and I half-expected it to be Dash, coming to my rescue. But no, the car didn’t fit and I wasn’t surprised to see my personal knight in shining Honda, Matt Hardacker.

“Don’t you have better things to do than keep bailing me out of bad situations?” I joked lamely. The car crawled beside the curb, matching my slow walker’s pace.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked me. I shrugged. I did, actually, but…

“What about your date?” My voice was flat and to the outsider, I probably would have sounded, well, jealous. But this was me and everything I said had a hint of some kind of joke beneath the surface.

Matt gave me a funny look. “Not my date, my sister,” he corrected.

“You’re dating your sister?” I stopped and so did the car.

He rolled his eyes. “Do you want a ride or not?”

I did so I got in on the other side. As I was closing my door, a familiar American muscle car flashed by. For a brief moment, Travis and I locked eyes. But he was driving too fast and my door was closing so our gaze was broken. I don’t know if he knew that this was Mr. H’s car or if he didn’t care that I was getting in a car with a total stranger, but he didn’t turn around.

Matt looked over at me as I buckled up. “Date not go so well?” he asked me.

Instead of describing the night I’d had, I resorted to my methods of evasiveness. “Date? You mean brother,” I said sarcastically. I didn’t get a smile but I did get an exasperated sigh.

“You know, maybe if you weren’t so sarcastic, you’d have more friends.”

Ouch. Two times in one night. Matt hadn’t said bitch but it amounted to the same thing. From dicks like Travis, I could handle it. I didn’t like it, but I could handle it and I could throw back insults easily. Tonight had been different. Travis was a different category and I wasn’t sure how I felt about him yet. But Mr. H? He’d kind of been the only person I’d been able to depend on lately. He’d gotten me out of more trouble this week than teachers were probably supposed to. When I didn’t say anything, he knew he’d said something wrong.

He reached over and touched my arm, keeping one eye on the road and the other looking at me, a guilty glint in their dark depths. “Are you okay? I’m sorry,” he said, “that was out of line.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “You’re right. But I don’t want friends. People suck.”

“No wonder you get in so many fights. How come? You weren’t always like this. I mean, you were distant as a freshman and sophomore. But then you…” He didn’t finish. But I did.

Keeping my voice carefully devoid of emotion, I finished his sentence, “Got addicted to drugs and got sent to rehab.” He didn’t say anything. “I’ve never really… liked people, I guess. But it wasn’t until sophomore year that I really started to despise them.”

“Why?”

“It was their fault.”

Matt didn’t believe me. He didn’t come right out and say it, but I could see from the look on his face that he didn’t. It wasn’t the first time. In rehab, I’d seen a therapist, too. Only because it was required to. No matter how bitchy I was, I couldn’t leave. They always asked me why I got into drugs. Did I want attention? No. Did I feel depressed? No. Was I trying to get back at my mother for leaving us? No again. I’d always insisted that it wasn’t my fault and they always replied that only I can make myself do anything. After I heard that three times, I just stopped talking to them at all. And when I got one after I came back, I bitched her out until I could leave.

“How was it their fault?” To give him credit, he really was trying to understand. But how could I make him really understand? Even with my story, I still could have said no, in retrospect. Peer pressure was a bitch but no one made me take a hit or made me drink. They’d only supplied me with the ammunition to completely destroy myself. I did all the rest.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

He pulled the car over onto the shoulder. Gravel crunched beneath the tires. Cars sped by fast, blurs of light and shiny metal. No one seemed to think it was weird that we’d pulled over but then again, there were weirder things out there. Matt positioned himself so he was looking at me and for some reason, I didn’t want to look back.

Out of everyone I knew, he was the one who made me question things. Why should I hate everyone? I could trust him. I wanted to trust him. He’d bailed me out. But could I? My mother had left me. My father and I had no relationship whatsoever. Trust was a problem for me. And even when I hadn’t trusted people, they’d still managed to find a way to ruin my life. Travis and the other high school royalty were proof enough of that. A friend would be nice. Matt was smart and understanding and I was sure that he could help me. If only I’d let him.

“McKinley, I want to help you,” he said. “Please, let me.”

I stared at him, studying the strong planes of his face, the shadow of a stubble across his cheeks. His dark hair was nicely combed and he wore nice clothes, remnants of the not-date with his sister he’d had. The not-date that he’d left because I had. Another night of misfortunate saved by the gracious math teacher. I chewed my lip, debating. I must have waited too long because Matt reached out and took my hand, squeezing it.

I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to spill my guts to my teacher. And most of all, I wanted to stop this weird feeling inside of me. So I did the only thing I could think of to get out of this situation, the only thing that would bring more drama than my sordid backstory. I leaned forward, ignoring the protesting of the seatbelt and the awkward angle my body was twisted into, and I kissed my math teacher.