Track03: Who Needs Shelter

You get pretty used to walking when it’s your only means of transportation for three years. I’ve been walking for at least an hour now. I have absolutely no indea where I am going, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me that I’ve been traveling in circles this entire time. In fact, I think I passed that same house with the creepy garden gnomes at least twice. I have come to the realization that, besides evil gnomes, there isn’t much to look at in this town. So of course, the lack of interesting scenery has left plenty of room for my mind to wander. I pass a park. There’s an elderly woman there, pushing what I assume to be here grandchildren on the swings. They’re all smiles and laughter. My wandering mind takes this into consideration. It’s hard to believe that this woman is very evil, I can’t conceive any ulterior motives she may have. I guess that not everyone on this planet is entirely bad. I just haven’t had the fortune to meet anyone who isn’t. This thought is in such sharp contrast to my normal way of thinking that it startles me...must be all this goddamn country air.

My feet are complaining at this point so I sit on a bench not too far from the swing set. I’m well aware that I am staring at the kids on the swing, but if they mind then they can get the fuck over it. I smile to myself, that thought is of a nature that I am far more used to. Eventually they leave and I am alone once again, this is how I like it. Unfortunately, there is the whole ‘being totally and completely lost in a foreign town’ thing...that’s a bit of a downer. Normally I wouldn’t mind sleeping on a park bench; I’ve spent the night in worse places, but if I don’t show up to school tomorrow then someone’s bound to call the police and those pigs are the last thing I need. I don’t have a whole lot of options here. It seems I’ve gotten myself into quite a sticky situation. I remove the cell phone, that Chuck purchased for me on my second day here, from my pocket. Of course, his is the only number programmed into it. A thought strikes me and I can’t help but laugh as I retrieve Sydney’s number from my other pocket. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me...

Sydney shows up at the park shortly after I call her. Trust me, that was one hella’ awkward phone call. She however, doesn’t seem phased as she approaches me sporting her ever-present smile. She takes a seat on my bench and I instinctively scoot as far away as I can from her. She almost frowns at this but continues nonetheless. “So, do you want me to drive you back to your house?”

“No!” Is my immediate response. I have a strong feeling that if I return to Chuck’s house tonight I won’t be able to resist punching him in the face. She nods at my outburst and seems to contemplate something to herself.

“Well, in that case I suppose you could stay the night at my house...just make sure my parents don’t see you, they’ll flip a shit.” Gasp, the perfect Sydney actually curses? Who would have guessed? I simply nod and she stands up. I imitate her movement and she grabs my hand before attempting to pull me along side herself. Excuse me bitch, take your hands off of me, thanks. “You can let go of my hand, I’m not your fucking boyfriend.” She stares at me apparantly confused for a moment before complying with my demand.

“Of course you’re not. You’re so silly, Julie.” Argh, that fucking name...I’m going to strangle her one of these days. I follow her to some bright ass orange car. Seriously, could you get anymore obnoxious? I’m not too sure. There’s a guy sitting behind the wheel who looks to be about twenty or so. As I slide into the backseat all I can see is the back of his head. His hair is the same shade of red as Sydney’s which is slightly surprising because it’s so bright that I thought she must dye it. Actually, the color of his hair seriously clashes with the paint job on this car. I find that it really annoys me...I guess I’m just weird like that. So, me being the fool that I am, I tell him so, which I may add, completely goes against my plan of silence. He snorts at my pseudo-insult.

“Dude, that sounded pretty gay.”

“Fuck you, cock sucker.” In the rear-view mirror I see Sydney’s eyes widen a little at my comment. Yeah well if you wanna ‘be my friend’ so bad you better get used to my coarse language. The guy, who I assume to be her brother, chooses not to respond to me this time. A few minutes into our drive Sydney turns to speak to me.

“This is my lovely brother Hayden, just so you know.” I nod, I really don’t care. We arrive at a decently large yellow house mere moments later and I realize how close to home (not that this place is my home) I had been the entire time. I suppose I really was going in circles. Fuck this town and it’s confusing street plans.

Upon exiting the car, I get my first real look at Hayden. His appearance is slightly impressive. He’s certainly hotter than I had previously assumed. Red hair falls around his eyes and frames his face, though he lacks his sister’s alluring curls, Not that Sydney is alluring, she just has nice hair is all...that doesn’t make her less wicked than any other human being. Fuck it, neither of them are alluring, I don’t give a shit how attractive they are. Either way, Hayden’s eyes are much lighter than her’s. They’re almost the color of wet sand. I have to keep myself from laughing when I see that his nose is pierced like he’s some chick. He has a small green rhinestone stud above his right nostril. “And you call me gay? Faggot.” He laughs and turns to his sister. Okay, if another one of these fuckers laughs at my insults I am going to punch them.

“Oh Syd, he’s a real charmer.” We make our way into the house and I scoff internally at the plethora of religious paraphernalia littering this place...figures. Sydney directs me on where to go and luckily I don’t run into any parental figures on the way. Now I can see why they wouldn’t want some kid having a sleep over with there daughter, religious freaks. There is a huge ass crucifix hanging above the staircase and I mock-salute it on the way up. I hear Sydney giggle behind me before we enter her room. She informs me that she is going to take a shower and tells me to ‘make myself at home’...fuck that.

So here I am, laying on Sydney’s bed and staring at her ceiling. Her room is actually the opposite of what I expected. I was fully prepared for a perfect, pink, preppy, princess paradise, or some other equally hideous alliteration. However, her room is actually half decent. The walls are a dark forest green, covered nearly floor to ceiling with posters of bands I’ve never heard of before. Her furniture is minimal and gives the space a clean, modern appearance. Oh god, I sound like some interior decorator fag.

It’s awfully strange to just be laying here in someone else’s bed. I mean, I’ve been in plenty of other people’s beds, but not innocently like this. Seriously, Sydney? Of all the people on this earth, I’m in her bed? It’s just odd. It is a nice house though, probably the nicest house I’ve ever been too. I wonder what her parents do. Judging by all the religious shit I’d say her dad was a minister or something, but I doubt that pays very well. Then again, maybe he is a minister who runs an underground child prostitution ring for some extra cash. It’s possible...I’ve seen more fucked up things than that.

Sydney returns from her shower and sits beside me. Neither of us say anything and I continue to stare at her ceiling. Awkward much? Eventually she ascends from the bed and migrates to a wardrobe across the room. The doors open to reveal a television and she fiddles around with something before returning to her spot on the bed. I raise an eyebrow at her questioningly and she smiles at me. “Remember how I said that I love indie movies? Well, you are now fortunate enough to enjoy one of my favorites.”

I don’t even know what that damn movie’s name was but I can guarantee it was the single most fucked up thing I have ever seen. Seriously, all I got out of it was some kid getting fucked up the ass while wearing his mother’s wedding dress and then biting the head off of a chicken. When Sydney said that she liked them crazy, she wasn’t kidding. As the credits roll I have absolutely no comment.

A few silent minutes pass until my phone begins to vibrate from within my pocket. I take it out to reveal that Chuck is calling me, wonderful. I answer it simply to let him know that I’m alive. Before I get the chance to hang up, Sydney takes it upon herself to yell the location of my whereabouts. As if Chuck would even know who the fuck she is.

“Don’t worry, Chuck loves me. I’m sure he won’t mind you staying here.” How does she know his name? What is she some kind of stalker? I promptly ask her so and she giggles. “Of course not! He works at the restaurant my dad owns. When ever I’m over there I talk to him. He’s a pretty cool guy. I knew you were moving here even before I met you. I’m so glad that we’re friends now!” Well, that’s only slightly creepy. I roll my eyes at her. I would rather not inform her that we are anything but friends in fear of having to deal with her crying or something.

“So your dad owns a restaurant? That’s funny, I would have guessed that he’s a minister running an underground child prostitution ring.” I know that I’m supposed to be sticking to my silence unless absolutely crucial regime, but I figure that crude comments which will hopefully convince Sydney to dislike me are an exception.

“Nope, but I could see how you would figure that...the minister bit at least. He is hella’ religious, both of my parents are. I’m not really into that though. I stopped going to church a couple of years ago...it probably has something to do with my brother.” I’m curious what she means by that but don’t ask about it, that would require talking. I must admit that I’m a little surprised though, I definitely took Sydney for the good little Christian type. In some odd way I think I’ve just gained a little more respect for her. This is so fucked up. She seems to ponder her statement before adding to it. “It think it actually really pisses them off, that I don’t go that is. Oh and you should see the looks on their faces when ever one of them finds Mason in bed with me, it’s priceless.”

“No way, you’re fucking that flamer? I could have sworn that he was a fag.” Damnit, that just slipped out. She laughs nervously and shakes her head.

“Nope, I’m not exactly...his type?” She raises her eyebrows at me suggestively. Uh thanks, I got the message the second I saw the fucker.

“So he is a faggot.” She nods, seeming a bit put off by my word choice.

“How about you?” She seriously did not just ask me that question. Fuck you, bitch.

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I fuck people I think are hot. I don’t do labels, they’re for pussies who want to conform.” She raises her eyebrows at me again. Do it again bitch, I’ll rip them off of your face.

“That’s funny, because I could have sworn that you just labeled Mason as a ‘faggot’ a moment ago.” She smiles smugly, and she just gained a few more points with me. Her face then becomes at bit more serious and she looks almost concerned. “Listen, I’ll be the first to admit hat Mason is hot, but take my advice and keep your distance from him. He’ll rip out your heart and stomp on it if you give him the chance.” I don’t have a whole lot of respect for Sydney, but that’s more than the absolute zero that I have for everyone else on this planet. Because of this, her words almost have an impact on me. But none of that matters, I would never give my heart (god, that sounds faggoty) to Mason, or anyone for that matter. I’m a hell of a lot smarter than that.

“ Listen, I said I fuck hot people, not fall in love them. Those two things are utterly unrelated. Besides, what makes you think that I would want your little fag-boy anyway?”...besides the fact that he is impossibly beautiful, not that I would ever say that out loud. In fact, why the fuck am I saying anything out loud? I seriously need to keep this talking thing in check.

Sydney seems to notice my unease and changes the subject. “So um...what did you do for fun when you lived in the city?” I nearly laugh out loud thinking about what her reaction would be if I told her the truth...although, I wouldn’t really consider that shit fun.

“I liked going to the library. I used to just sit in there and read whatever I could get my hands on.” Surprising as it may seem, it’s the truth. The library was always warm and dry and quiet. I would curl up in a corner where no one could see me and I wouldn’t be bothered. All of the books I read were non- fiction, because reading people’s pathetic stories of what they wish their lives could have been is just a complete waste of time. I read everything from grammar books to those about rocket ships. I guess, after dropping out of school, that’s the only reason I’m not a complete fucking retard.

“Really? We totally have a library on the third floor. I don’t spend a lot of time there, but you might like it.” I nod and she smiles. I’m really mother fucking tired so I opt to end our conversation there. I tug off my jeans and lay down facing away from Sydney. I hear her sigh before climbing in next to me. Too fucking weird.

I open my eyes several hours later and turn my head to see Sydney’s alarm clock flashing 1:30am. I groan and shift, spotting Sydney curled up in her blankets on the other side of the bed. She even smiles in her fucking sleep, ridiculous. God, she looks so nice. I just want to hold her down and fuck all of the niceness out of her...or something like that. I have to piss so I crawl out of bed, in search of the bathroom.

After relieving myself, I somehow wind up in the previously mentioned library. It’s decently sized, several shelves containing various books ranging from leather bound to brightly colored. I situate myself in an overstuffed armchair and curl up with The Biography of Edgar Allen Poe. Everyone seems to think he was nuts, but that guy had one seriously fucked up life. I’m surprised he maintained the little sanity that he had. I guess I can sympathize with the whole piece of shit life thing... then again, I never fucked a girl I considered my sister. I think I’m more of a Dickinson in that we share a strong dislike of society. Maybe I’ll become a shut-in one day. At least then I wouldn’t have any overly friendly redheads to deal with.

I’m not sure how much time has passed before I hear footsteps in the hallway. Maybe I should feel nervous, but personally I don’t give a shit what these people think of me. Sydney pokes her head through the doorway and smiles softly at me. “I thought I’d find you here.” She turns to exit and motions for me follow. I turn the lamp beside me off before doing so, for some unknown reason.

She leads us into a kitchen and proceeds to the fridge. She pulls out two apples and I am slightly confused when she next retrieves a frying pan. What the fuck is she making? She doesn’t explain her strange choice so I simply take a seat at the counter facing the stove. I hearing her singing softly as she stirs the apples around in the pan, occasionally adding what I assume to be cinnamon and sugar. It’s actually a nice sound and I find myself wishing she would do so louder because the sizzling of the pan is threatening to drown it out.

Okay, when I thought what she was cooking was weird, I was seriously mistaken. This might just be one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten. I might consider putting up with this girl if she’ll cook for me on a regular basis. We talk as we eat, which is weird and not what I’m supposed to be doing, but it just seems oddly natural.

Everything is so fucked up. My life isn’t supposed to be like this. I’m not supposed to be sitting her casually talking with another human being. I’m supposed to be hating her, simply for existing. That’s the way it’s always been. I’d rather be on the streets, at least there I knew that I couldn’t trust people. Now, I just don’t know anymore.

Just so you know, the movie I referenced was The Mudge Boy, and yes, it is one of the best movies ever. You should go watch it...but not until after you review!? :)