Andy

My dad drove me to school in the morning, and after his car was out of sight and he was headed for work, I turned around and headed for Apture. I got out of the school lot before anyone could notice I had been there and tattle on me.

I jogged for a bit, until there was enough distance between me and the school grounds, then I put in my headphones and enjoyed the walk there.

Like yesterday, the sky was broad and blue, speckled with small white clouds that weren't a threat and couldn't possibly be carrying rain.

Just because I was in an upbeat mood, I switched my music choices to a P!nk album, and enjoyed that for the rest of the walk. When I got to Apture, I paused the song and approached the house with the same careful behavior I had the day before.

Like opening a door you'd never seen before, it was always a mystery what I'd find when I approached the house. Sometimes I found a raccoon, scurrying away into the brush. Sometimes just a flock of doves hooting in the rafters, and sometimes it was absolutely nothing.

Today, it was nothing. And like yesterday, I wrote for a while, then I sat on the floor and traced patterns in the peeling wallpaper. I watched the clouds, admired nature, and sat there alone.

Loneliness never really bothered me. In fact, I usually embraced it. There was no one on planet earth who I felt like I could speak openly to, and even my parents got a little weirded out by me when I'd tell them about the music I liked. So loneliness, or solitude, was my answer, and I always felt content in that state of mind, even now with everything that has happened.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the crinkly wallpaper, and stayed very still for a while. It was peaceful there, even though the house could sometimes put you on edge, because of how it creaked and how decrepit it looked, but right then, it was the only place on earth I wanted to be.

I seemed to drift, the exhaustion from the last couple of days caught up to me, and I passed out.

~~~

I shot upright like a bullet, confused and terrified, surrounded by darkness. I stumbled and tripped over one of the crates and scuffed my hands when I fell to the floor, realizing where I was.

"Crap," I muttered, getting up in a hurry and pulling out my phone. I lit up the area around me and checked the time.

7:46.

"No, no, no, no!" I panicked, grabbing my backpack off the floor and running out the side of the house, charging across the field for the dirt road. I was running so fast my lungs felt like they'd explode. I already knew the fate that was waiting for me at home... Two worried sick parents, a search party, and possibly the cops. Crap.

I charged down the empty dirt road to where it intersected with the main paved road. My mind was running in panicked circles, bound to get me lost if I didn't pay attention. I ran west, pushing on, forcing my legs to move faster until they burned. A whole mile and a half adventure was packed into a seven minute run.

I was going to be in so much damn trouble...

I could see my house, all lit up, and sure enough, two police cruisers were pulled up along the curb in front of the yard. I cursed repeatedly under my breath, slowing to a walk so I could catch my breath, still forcing a brisk walk to the front door.

I grabbed the handle with a shaking, cold hand, my heart beating out of my chest. I turned it and stepped into the foyer, and everything stopped. I counted nine people straight off. Three cops, my mom and dad (who looked very upset talking to one of them), Mr. Turner and his wife, and Amy and Chris, Andy's parents.

Everyone looked at me, surprise and shock in their expressions. I stood there, dishevelled, looking sheepish.

"Asheen!" my mother exclaimed, crossing the room in two seconds to embrace me tightly, followed closely by my dad. I squeezed them both, dreading what came next after their relief wore off. And sure enough, as they pulled back, they were both angry. No, furious.

"Asheen Emily Hunter, where the hell were you?! We've been worried sick!"

I stuttered, and they got madder.

"When I got home for my lunch break, there was a message from Elizabeth on the answering machine asking if you were sick, because you were gone most of yesterday and hadn't even showed up this morning, when I dropped you off at the door." My father growled, his face red in anger. I'd never seen him so mad at anything or anyone. He was the kind of guy who even censored his own curses.

"Where were you?!" he shouted, looking hurt that I'd betray them both. And I had... I guiltily shook my head.

"I skipped school."

"Where'd you go?"

"Just on a walk..." I mumbled, shifting my feet.

"A walk for a whole afternoon?" My dad scoffed in disbelief. "Bullshit. Give me your phone."

I pulled it from my back pocket and extended it towards him. He snatched it out of my hand and shoved it in his own pocket.

"Hey!" I exclaimed.

"You can have it back at the end of the week. You're grounded." His glare was severe, and his mind would not be changed. My mom looked at me in the same way, the same look of betrayal. She wouldn't stand with me or even let me explain.

By then, the cops were interrupting us. "Sir, is there anything else we need to handle here?"

My dad waved them off.

"I'm glad you're home safe," Mr. Turner said sympathetically, patting my shoulder on the way out. The rest followed and my parents gave them a stiff thank you and goodnight.

After the door shut behind me, Dad demanded again, "Where were you? Something we need to know about?"

I shook my head. "No. I just... Went to that old house... Wanted to get my mind off of things before going back to school," I told him in defeat.

"Apture?"

I nodded.

"I get this is tough right now but you've got to step up, Asheen. You can't fucking run away when you're tired or scared. Jesus..."

I looked at him in shock. He never took the Lord's name in vain, ever.

"I was being bullied at school," I muttered, not that he cared what I had to say at this point, anyway. "I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"Damn straight you did." He crossed his arms impatiently. "Go to your room. We'll discuss this tomorrow.

"Dad-"

"Now, Asheen!"

I recoiled and looked at him. I understood why he was hurt, but his words were like knives. He wouldn't even let me explain. I pulled my backpack up on my shoulders and headed for the stairs, but my dad caught my sleeve and stole my backpack.

"Hey, I need that!"

"Really? Because you have homework to do, right?"

I sighed in defeat. "Fine. Whatever." I spun on my heel and stormed up the stairs, angry tears already in my eyes, running down my cheeks. I ran into my room and shut my door, locking it before I stumbled towards my bed and collapsed into the pillows and let out a wail.

I angrily curled my fingers around the pillows, trying to choke them out, anything to get the anger out of me. I felt something brush against my shoulder and rolled onto my back, angry tears in my eyes. "Leave me the fuck a-"

No one was there.

"Andy...?" I whispered. It was routine for me to do so, almost comforting.

"You were never even here..." I muttered hopelessly, rolling onto my side to hug a pillow tightly, looking at his photo propped against my bedside lamp. I grabbed it and looked at it again and again. I had since I'd gotten it. I'd looked through the Batman box several more times, as though it'd help me better understand who Andy had been.

I was tired but I didn't want to sleep because I was too upset with myself and my parents... I just... Felt like shit.

I lied there, feeling pointless. I kicked off my boots and awkwardly yanked off my hoodie, and curled up in the Prophet jacket. I controlled my breaths and squeezed my eyes shut.

"How unbelievably easy you have it now..." I whispered to Andy, wishing he could hear me.

"You don't have to put up with people's shit anymore. I know what I did was wrong... But he wouldn't even fucking listen as to why I did it. He didn't really care."

I was angry and talking shit, just wanting to tease a reply out of my imaginary friend. "Andy," I murmured, tearing up again, "I miss you so, so much. So much more than words can describe."

~~~

As morning light came, I remained in bed until finally someone knocked on my door.

"Ash, you're going to be late."

"Why the fuck does it matter, anyway?" I muttered to myself, not bothering to get up yet. The doorknob rattled, and my dad realized it was locked. "Ash, open the door." He sighed.

I continued to lie there, curled up with my thoughts and a photo of the boy who was my best friend.

I heard his footsteps fade away and I knew what his plan was. He was going to get one of my mom's hair clips and pick the lock. He had before, he'd do it again. Except the last time was when I was seven and locked the door and wouldn't open it, and he was home alone with me, and had to figure it out on his own without mom.

He returned, as predicted, and struggled with the lock for a few moments, getting in a hurry to get in.

I continued to stay there, not feeling motivated enough to get up and help him. I heard the door finally creak open.

"Ash!" He sighed in frustration. "You need to be at school in fifteen minutes."

"Fine." I sighed, begrudgingly pulling myself up from bed. I looked at him, and he looked back at me.

"Where'd you get that?" His eyes narrowed in confusion at me, pointing at the jacket I hadn't noticed I was still wearing, trying to figure out if I'd owned it before now and he just hadn't noticed.

"Hot Topic," I replied with a shrug. Chances were that's where Andy got it to begin with.

"Oh... Recently?"

"No. A while ago," I replied flatly, going to my dresser and assembling a random outfit. I didn't really care if it looked retarded, dressing in mostly black items. If I felt like being the Emo Bitch Andy always declared I was, then so be it.

He fidgeted awkwardly in the doorway until he cleared his throat, and I thought he was going to say something about last night and I tensed up, waiting for it.

"I'll be downstairs when you're ready," he finally concluded, shutting the door softly behind him. I didn't look up as he left. I just kept working away, painting the look of sorrow on my face in thick lines of eyeliner I wouldn't have been caught dead in a week ago.

I froze and actually looked at myself in the mirror. I mean, actually looked at myself. I'd been avoiding my reflection for days, and now I saw it. The evolution taking place in me. My makeup was considerably darker, and at the roots of my hair, it was turning black again, my natural hair color.

Maybe I'd just let it go back this time. Why bother with color when the world is so damn bleak?

Sighing, I put on my Converse, the green ones for some color, placed the Prophet jacket on under my hoodie again, and went downstairs to meet my dad. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, and extended my probably searched backpack towards me with a nervous smile. I snatched it from him and walked out to the car.

Parents were essentially nosy, and he'd probably read everything I'd ever written in my journal, like it'd help him understand better why I was acting out. I was careful not to write of Andy anywhere in there, for this reason. People always feel like they need to know what you're thinking, so they think an invasion of privacy is the only way to learn about someone instead of just asking them.

I sat in the front seat of my dad's hail-dented Toyota and looked out the window indifferently, sighing because I hadn't bothered to bring my headphones, because what was the point? I had no phone, so no music.

I was silent, so Dad turned on the radio for the remainder of the drive, but not to a music station, of course. I tuned it all out and glared out the fogged over glass, not exactly thrilled about facing school again.

As soon as the car was in park, I was out. "Love you," I told him, grabbing my bag and jogging inside before he could reply. I was in a hurry to class today, because I didn't need flunk added to my already impressive list of names to be called in the halls and on the bus.

I got into History just before the teacher showed up and sat there, listening to the sneering comments coming from the back of the room. It would seem I had taken over Andy's ray of popularity sunshine.

"Oh man, I think she picked up a case of the Emo at that faggot's funeral," snickered some girl in the back. I refused to look back and meet her eyes. I looked straight forward and embraced my differences.