Just a Freak

"You want to come over, Riley?"

Sure. So I did.

My effort has been increasingly lacking. In everything.

Yesterday I got a D on a math test. Jeez.

I throw on a tee-shirt and jeans. I'm never one for dressing to impress, but today my apathy towards my clothing feels undeniably strong.

Mom drove me to Caleb's.

We sat in the car saying nothing. I watched the trees and the houses. I wondered about the people in the houses.

What're their lives like?

Do they know any troubled boys?

Do they know any sad little girls?

I see a sad little girl sitting on the curb of a street and for some reason I think it's me. But it's not. She's about ten and she's holding a big pink balloon.

You know, those huge kinds that are kind of shiny, the helium ones you see in Stop N Shop? It had a pony on it. You'd think she'd be excited to have a big pink pony balloon, but she was pretty sad. Maybe even crying.

I wondered about her all along the way.

So K's house was different. Not the house itself; that was the same, same big-ass-ness and all.

"Oh. Riley. Hi."

Mrs. Amherst opens up the door and man, she looks tired.

And when I walked in, I saw Mr. Amherst for the first time.

At least, I think it was him.

He was sitting on the couch in their living room, flipping through Reader's Digest. He was even more tired looking than his wife, and he was frowning, and he was bald. Not totally bald, but just on top.

I guess that means K'll be bald when he's as old as his dad, too.

Suddenly I feel terrible.

Mrs. Amherst puts her hand on my shoulder and whispers, "He's in his room."

I walked past the living room, not ever hearing Mr. Amherst say "hello".

I walked up his huge staircase, down the huge hall, to a huge door.

"K?" I knocked lightly.

"Come in."

So I did.

K was just kinda sitting on his bed, staring at the window.

"Hey, K," I said.

"Hey," he said. His voice was crackly with phlegm. He cleared it and said, "What's new?"

"Nothing." I sat down beside him.

He seemed troubled.

All these troubled boys...

"I saw your Dad."

Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

Caleb takes in this huge breath likes he's about to start screaming, but then just deflates.

"That's nice," he mumbled, his voice even tinier.

I nodded.

And then I thought back to weeks ago, when K's Mom picked him up from the nurse's office.

His mom said;
"Well, come, kiddo, we've got to hurry up. We need to go pick up Dad's birthday cake before he comes home from work."

And I thought what a nice family they seemed like.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe everyone's family has problems.

Mine.

Caleb's.

Even Dirk's.

Dirk. Where the hell is he?

For some weird reason, I'm craving that big pink balloon.