The Hearts of Lonely People

He felt regrettably foolish about even trying out for the magazine. His story had red marks and hasty comments slurred everywhere. He doubted he actually read the thing, maybe just skimmed. And then the script writing on the last page. Angst isn’t a literary element. He signed, because rereading the first sentence made him choke on his angst.

It’s not that Ryan is a bad writer, it’s just he didn’t have anything to say. He didn’t have witty dialogue or amazing plots. He wrote what came to mind, and a few weeks ago his newest idea seemed like gold.

Stories about the underdog, the wall paper kids, and all their problems were popular. Everyone wanted to see what it’s like to be different, but they never want to be an outcast. They like it when people can see them and have understandings with normal people.

Now, he headed off to his job at the chain grocery store. He didn’t have a job title he did a little of everything. He rang up customers, restocked, and sometimes cleaned up spills. That’s what everyone did.

He hated ringing customers up the most. Out of everything it made him feel out of place. Old ladies would talk to him about the weather; teenagers would try to make deals with him to get alcohol. His manager told him to smile, and that’s all he could ever manage to do.

He stood there, ringing customers up and smiling like an idiot.

“Hey, uh you,” The guy said.

One of the guys from yesterday.

“Ryan,” He said, introducing himself as he scanned.

“Oh yeah, I’m Pete,” He said.

Ryan nodded and started to bag.

“Cash or Credit,” He asked.

“Did you smoke the whole pack,” He asked.

Ryan nodded, because he really had no way of knowing he was lying. The old woman behind him gave him a dirty look, but he didn’t really mind.

“You fucking liar,” Pete said with a chuckle.

Ryan stared at his feet, losing every ounce of make believe confidence. Pete left after, reminding him that he had to smoke it by tomorrow. He didn’t understand why he wanted anything to do with him in the first place.

Around ten he started his walk home. His dad never picked up his calls and his mother couldn’t be trusted to drive anywhere after six. He made it his priority to finish off the cart of cigarettes before he got home.

A guy around his age walked down the street, he wasn’t entirely paying attention. He took pictures of street signs and was oblivious. And then he saw Ryan and he knew he needed a picture of him.

Ryan gave him a strange look, and the snap of the camera was clear.

“What are you doing,” Ryan almost growled.

“You have a perfect facial structure, have you thought about modeling,” He said, like he was talking about the weather, or something else mundane. He acted like questions like that were normal to ask complete strangers.

“Uh thanks,” Ryan said, uncertainly

“So will you be my model,” He asked.

“No, I’m not well pretty,” Ryan said, as he pushed the guy out of the way so he could continue walking home.

“What,” He ran after him to catch up, “Where do you go to school.”

Ryan wasn’t sure he should tell complete strangers, who happened to be insane, where he went to school. It was like telling a con artist his social security number.

“The one like two blocks away,” Ryan said, pointing lazily.

“Oh, I go there too,” He said, and then he put his camera back in his messenger bag, “I’m Jon.”

Ryan nodded and continued walking.

“And your name is,” Jon said, struggling to keep up with him.

“Ryan,” He said quietly.

Jon nodded and continued the opposite way Ryan was going. He said something about capturing the beauty of the night. He might be an outcast, but Ryan was not that weird.

It was almost ten o’clock fuck Ryan thought as he walked up the driveway. Ryan hadn’t even started his homework yet. His house was dark, no one was up. He went to his room quietly, trying to make sure everyone stayed asleep.

He could hear noise a couple rooms over, noises he really didn’t want to here. God, he hated Gabe. He hated Haley too, but he almost felt guilty about that one.

Ever since Ryan’s grandmother died, the people around him became a poor excuse for a family. He was sure that when his mother actually decided to sleep in her actual bedroom instead of the guest bedroom that his parents got into bitter arguments. He knew his older siblings had a sick competition for attention. Victoria only became a doctor to please her parents. She wanted to marry Gabe because their mother thought he was charming.

Somehow he became an eyesore to his parents, even though he had perfect grades until middle school. They ignored Ryan for the most part, unless the really had to talk to him. The last time someone told him that they loved him was his friend Spencer, but that was back in fourth grade before he moved. Spencer was getting ready to leave and he hugged Ryan goodbye. They were like brothers. Ryan cried for a week until his mother called him a fag.

He doesn’t know why they didn’t exchange phone numbers or something. He moved a couple towns over, and if Ryan really wanted to see him, he could. The idea of him wandering the streets calling out ‘Spencer, Spencer Smith’ made Ryan laugh to himself.

Someone knocked on the door, and without waiting for a reply they opened the door.

“Hey Ry,” Gabe said.

“What,” Ryan snapped, because he really didn’t like the guy. He had all the right to hate the guy that cheated on his sister almost every night.

“Lube” He asked.

Ryan laughed in his face, because why would he of all people have lube. Gabe wasn’t amused, and he obviously didn’t trust him. He opened his night stand and searched around a bit.

“You have to have something,” Gabe said.

Ryan rolled his eyes and didn’t have a witty response.

“Jesus your seventeen and you don’t have a sex life,” Gabe said.

“Just get out,” Ryan said, because he didn’t think it was sad to know his boundaries. The only place in his house anyone would go is the living room. Then he would take them out to dinner and pay for everything, going home alone.

Gabe left the room laughing, which made Ryan pissed. If he was having all this sex why did he depend on other people?

The next day he woke up feeling like shit. And he was late for school. The perfect formula to a horrible day. He ended up running to school because he knew no one would wake up to give him a ride. His dad had already left for work, and he didn’t even want to think about asking Gabe for anything.

He made it on time for first period and the day crawled by. Eventually it was lunch, and Peter had blackmailed him into going to his van.

“I’ll kiss you in public,” He said, and the look in his eyes convinced him he’d do it.

Ryan followed him to his van to see his two other friends already there. Ryan still looked horrified from the previous comment.

“Did you finish the pack,” one of them asked.

“Yeah,” He said, grabbing the empty pack from his pocket.

“What the hell man, it’s like a rule to save the last one for the person who bought it,” the other one said.

“Guys, Guys calm down he’s new,” Pete said.

Ryan didn’t understand what he was actually new to.

“That’s Alex, and that’s Joe,” Pete said.

Ryan waved, and Joe glared at him. Okay, give up on making friends then Ryan thought to himself as Pete closed the van door.

They hung out for an hour, and then Ryan freaked out about missing class. Pete said they were skipping, but he it seemed like he did it every day. He was a senior, like Ryan, but much more of a slacker.

“I bet you have your college life planned out,” Joe said.

“I’m not going to college,” Ryan said.

And then they all looked at him like he had killed a puppy in front of them.

“Are you stupid,” Pete asked.

“No, I just have other things planned,” Ryan said.

The rest of the hour Peter would stay barely inches away from Ryan. He found a way to touch him, and even if Ryan was overly paranoid, he knew it was on purpose.

“Last period is an elective,” Ryan said, opening the door.

Joe and Alex waved a little, and Pete said good bye before returning to their conversation about something completely random.

Art class wasn’t completely boring because it was the only class where he could get completely creepy with his art and the teacher would encourage it. A few years ago someone painted Jack the Ripper and it got in this big art exhibit in the New York City. He hated to paint, and the pottery wheel had something against him.

He usually tried to write in the paint closet, because if the teacher ever came back there he could lie about being suddenly inspired.

“Ryan,” Someone whispered.

Ryan looked up, but he was entirely sure he didn’t know the student talking to him.

“Oh this is perfect, now you have to model for me,” He said.

“Jon,” He asked, because he really didn’t remember who he was talking to, even though he saw him about ten hours ago.

Jon smiled and nodded, and then forced him to sit in a chair in the corner of the room. He started talking pictures of Ryan before he could even protest.

“Wait-,” Ryan whined.

Jon stopped for a moment, and then asked, “How would you feel about shirtless modeling.”

The teacher gave him a look, and Jon stopped asking ridiculous questions for the rest of the period. Ryan kept his shirt on, and his hoodie. He didn’t want to pose for any pictures.

“What are you going to do with these pictures,” Ryan asked.

Jon smirked and said, “My personal project.”

Ryan thought that meant masturbation, and he full heartedly laughed.

“I’m not pretty,” Ryan said as the bell rang.

He swore he saw Jon take a picture of his ass as he walked out. He felt embarrassed that some one thought he was attractive. He wasn’t used to it. Then he started to think about Jon, and he was nicer looking than Ryan. He actually looked manly, unlike Ryan who looked like very feminine. He felt weird thinking about a guy in this way.

And he tried to not think about Jon.