Just a Freak

"You're going to have to tell us what happened, honey. You can't come home a mess and not expect us to wonder."

"You'll feel better when you say what happened."

"Please."

It was practically an intervention. Mom, Nana, Mr Ben.

And will you believe it? My Dad and his preggo girlfriend, Joyce.

And, of course, good ol' Connie Fritz.

It was the weirdest thing, seeing them all in a room together.

"I can't," where the onl words I could say. "I can't."

"You have to."

"It doesn't matter," I murmured. "He's gone."

"Who?"

"Who is he?"

They're all on one side of the living room. I'm on the other. They're all on the couch and two chairs, I'm on the chair on the other side.

"Nobody," I growled. "It doesn't matter."

I want them to leave it alone.

I want them to stop.

It doesn't matter because Dirk is gone in New York City or something, where he's probably going to OD within a week, so what does it matter?

"It matters because we've all noticed a change in you."

Yeah, right. Like Joyce and Dad's sea monkey over there know me so well.

All I could do was shake my head. I refuse to say what happened.

It's really not a big deal, looking back.

Really.

"If it's not such a big deal, then tell us."

Fine. If that's how you want it.

I sighed. Suddenly my heart's beating. Fast.

"This boy tried to..." My voice faltered.

"What boy?" Mr. Ben demanded at once. A lump formed in my throat. Not because of Dirk; because of Mr. Ben. He sounds like he really cares.

"He..." I cleared my throat. "He-- It doesn't matter. He's gone."

"Who?"

"He's gone. He left. I don't know where he went."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"When?"

"Two weeks ago."

Leave me alone.

It's over.

"What happened, Riley?" Now it's my Dad's turn. He's getting stern; it felt so weird hearing him stern. He hadn't told me off in years.

"I...can't."

"Yes, you can." Joyce.

Joyce.

Joyce did something weird.

She stood up, all unsteady and pregnant with a huge belly, and waddled over to me, and just held my hand, squeezing it, not too tight, but reassuringly.

"Yes, you can," she repeated, looking me in the eyes. Her eyes were an intense blue.

Blue.

I swallowed. And for some reason, I felt like I trusted Joyce.

I nodded and squeezed her hand back.