Scribe The Words Happy Meal Right Across Your Head

I shoved another chip into my mouth and crunched. The group was going on about some history test that I was yet to have. Alice was the loudest, making wild hand motions. I laughed quietly to myself. Everything was boring and normal as always. A voice droned on the intercom about kids being dismissed and teachers coming to the office. Only half listening did I hear my name call for my presence at the office. I furrowed my eyebrows and scooped up my half-eaten lunch. Gliding down the hallway my stomach had an unusual aching feeling. One that felt like a fist dug into your stomach and kept squeezing your intestines. It was a very unpleasant feeling so I tossed my lunch in a big plastic container on the side of the hallway. I dragged my aching body to the perfumed room and a woman who wore a pair of pink skeptical peered at me. Her wild gray hair came to right under her chin.

"Name," she drawled.

"Justin Baker,"

She ruffled a couple papers and looked at me again. "Go gather your stuff; your parent will be here soon to retrieve you."

I gave her a weird look and obeyed. I shook my head walking down the locker filled, empty hallway.

I was almost finished with my backpack when I heard gasps from the end of the hallway. I rolled my eyes of what kid might have done something outrageous. When I reached the gasping students, my backpack slipped off my shoulder and made a loud clunk on the tiled floor.

"Jake ready?" he said in a slightly mournful voice. He had a hood on and a pair of shades, but no one could mistake his voice and piercings.

A couple guys and a girl who were at the door gawked at me.

"Baker, no way…" he trailed off as I shoved past him and followed my father to the car.

I looked up at my dad, "you know you could have honked a horn, I would have got the message, no point in all that 'look I'm a rock star' crap."

He tossed his shades on the dashboard and did not start the car. "Don’t start with this bull shit today Jake. No one is going to be in the mood." He bit his tongue and stared out the window. The car still sat un-engaged.

"Dad," I whispered, "is there something you need to tell me? Why did you take me out of school?"

We sat silent. The back of his black, messy hair continued to face me. The sound of breathing was the only noise between us. His breath was ragged and un-even. I sat there looking at my poor disheveled parent.

"Was it mom?" I whispered, praying to God that it was not. I could not take the pain that my poor father would inflict, leaving me mom less and him soulless.

He shook his head solemnly and started to tear. It was not long until small hiccups erupted from his slightly parted lips. Forehead connected with plastic in a crack. He was weeping now his shoulders shook viciously. I could not help but have a watery look either. I hugged my father and he turned and did the same. He was crying harder now, wetting my t-shirt quickly. Never have I saw my father cry like this, not ever. Never have I even seen him cry.

"Dad?" I asked, "What happened?"

He sniffed and looked into my eyes. The normal brilliant green looked like a muddy gray now. All pigment drained from them.

"Son," he wiped his face and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Son, there has been a loss."

~☼~/b]

I straightened my tie and looked at myself in the mirror before going down the stairs. My black suit and tie saddened me. I could not even look at my guitar ever since I heard the news. I tear itched my eye as the scene replayed.

I shook the memory from my mind and joined my dark clad mother by the door, waiting for me to take me to the burial.

She held me by her side and kissed the side of my head, the highest thing she could reach easily.

When we arrived at the graveyard, I saw all of my uncles and aunts waiting for us. My father arrived early with Uncle Matt to help set up. The funeral was yesterday, it was heart throbbing.

We all stood around the coffin holing flowers as the priest said the final words. Michelle went first, kneeling and placing a hand on the coffin before placing her rose. Each of my uncles went next, mumbling a farewell as they also placed their flowers on the coffin. Finally it was my turn. I went up, and gave him my rose.

"I'm going to miss you tons Uncle Gates." I whispered and walked away.