Chapter Three -Blue




Honestly, the only good thing about lunch period is that I get to have time with Chuck. I find it a little funny, albeit ironic, that I can start a sentence with "honestly," even if it's just in my head.

As I was saying, lunch at my school sucks, to me anyway. The food isn't that bad and the noise isn't overwhelming because there aren't that many people in here to begin with. Between the three different lunch periods, there are only a hundred or so students in the cafeteria at any given time. This also means the lunch ladies don't have to hurry as much with the food, giving it a little bit more quality than the usual "bad school lunch" stereotype.

I still don't like it that much. Food is good and all, I mean, I'm not anorexic, but I've never gotten the big deal about it. Sure, I have my favorites, but I don't understand the people who can sit there and make exaggerated 'mhmmmm' sounds just because they love the food they're eating.

To me, no food is orgasmic.

Music is though, the good kind anyway. I wish I had an iPod, or an MP3 player, but I don't because there are three kids in my family. If our parents buy one of us something then they have to buy it for the others too, which really blows but… yea, we're not loaded. Why don't I get a job and buy my own, you might ask?

Ever try to get through a job interview when you speak in lies? Yeah. Think about it.

So, I usually sit here eating non-orgasmic food, listening to nothing but background noise, and doing nothing for half an hour. However, God seems to of have mercy on me because Chuck has my lunch period. How much would it suck if he wasn't here too? I would probably be dead by now.

"I have a date tonight," Chuck brags with a sly grin as he pops a potato chip into his mouth.

"You never have a date on Friday night," I deadpan, looking at him from beneath my bangs with my head bowed forward a bit.

"I know, I know, but it's nothing special," he nods and shrugs his broad shoulders without a thought. His lips curl into a smirk, "Why don't you ask that Mercedes girl out?"

"Yeah, I'll do that," this is one of those rare occasions that it comes out like I want it to. It's a lie, but it's also sarcasm. It's officially a good day.

"Oh, why not, she's fine," he winks at me. Damn gorgeous mother fucker…

"I think she's sexy and I'd hit that like the fist of an angry god." 'Um, duh, I'm gay,' I tell him and blink as he laughs at me. He's got a sexy laugh… just saying.

"I know, I know. You like to swallow, not spit." Ugh, could he be any more crude? He chuckles again at the look on my face, "But seriously, Dev, she's been asking about you ever since you admitted to whistling at her ass."

I give a grunt, frowning. It's been nearly two full weeks since Mercedes' first day and, still, she hasn't forgot about it.

"She's staring at you again," Chuck points out, but I already figured that. She has been for a while now and it's weird as hell. I hope she doesn't spork me or something. That's a crazy phobia of mine, being sporked. I mean, it'd be painful as hell, wouldn't it?

"No she isn't…lets talk about her for a little while longer, okay?" 'Yeah, I fucking know that. Subject change, bastard.'

"Fine, fine, I'll tell you more about my date then."

"Yes, please tell me. There's nothing else I'd like to hear about more."

And so he starts to go on about the bombshell he met at some club he managed to get into even though it was a 21 plus club. Me and Chuck have something else in common besides our faults. We're both nineteen in out last year of high school, did I mention that? Chuck started late because of an unfortunate birthday, and I… well… First grade was a bitch because they hadn't diagnosed me yet. Teachers didn't like me and I think I have a corner-phobia now because of all those timeouts.

"Hey, Devyn."

No, but seriously, my kindergarten teacher's sucked balls. Seriously, they were letting god-fucking-zilla teach five year olds.


First grade was better. Mrs. Padma was an old lady, going senile, but in the good way. The "oh, where did I put my glasses?" way and not the "blasted kids!" deal that most teachers pull. She was always popping up out of nowhere and talking nonsense. I still did get sent to the office a lot but she was the one that eventually sent me to the counselor, the one that said I should see a therapist because he couldn't stand me anymore. It might have been for a bad reason but it did lead to my diagnosis, so I'm grateful to him for that.


I jump three feet in the air when a book (our seven pound History book to be exact) slams down on the table beside my half eaten lunch. I'm snapped out of my daydream immediately and I glance down at my wobbling lunch tray; it must be as startled as I am.

Chuck sighs from in front of me, and I look up and get a mouthful of dark hair.

"You having fun chewing my hair, dweeb?"

Oh…Hell. Hello, Mercedes. I close my mouth and get the hair out and she plops down next to me, the waves of her hair bouncing with the movement.

"Well? Did you have fun chewing my hair?" She asks, an elbow on the table and propping her chin up as her green eyes bore into me. It takes me a moment to register the question, and then I make a revelation.

I am going to die.

"Yes, very much so… It tastes better than buttered popcorn." Yuck.

Chuck gets it, snorting into his coke. Mercedes casts him a glance, narrowing her eyes to look back at me. I swallow thickly, scooting back on the bench inconspicuously, more towards Chuck. He looks amused. Bastard. I'm going to die a painful death in under a minute and all he's doing is sitting there with his twinkling eyes? Damn you, Charles, damn you.

"Interesting," she responds, still staring at me with those green eyes that bore into me very soul. Dramatic much? If you saw this stare, you'd understand my feelings.

"Yeah it is," I say in a drone, because no it fucking isn't interesting.

"So…where do you come from? Devyn, is it," It wasn't a question. She knows who I am because she's been asking about me and, of course, everyone's told her.

"Alaska." Oh what the fuck. I'm already dead.

She blinks, and then cocks an eyebrow. "Alaska. Really?"

"Yup. In fact, I was an Eskimo up until the time I was eleven."

"You don't look very tan."

"I'm also a vampire."

"An Eskimo vampire…what, did you drink the blood of whales?"

"Of course not! How would I even do that? They're veins are much too deep under the flab to sink my teeth into. Duh."

"The sunlight is hitting you right now through the window, idiot," Mercedes rolls her eyes and I don't have to look because I can feel it burning into my back.

See the shit that happens when I don't shut myself up?

"If you're trying to prove a point, get on with it already," Chuck drawls from beside me, and Mercedes shoots him a glare to match the one she gave me. Maybe even worse.

"Fine," She straightens up, brushing a long sweep of hair over her shoulder and giving a 'humph' sound, before turning her eyes back to me. "You amuse me."

"Ummm…" I must look like an idiot right now, with my mouth slack and my eyes wide. Chuck narrows his eyes at her and I frown. "What?"

"Who the hell lies when the truth sounds better?" She asks, and I flush, running my hand through my hair and shrugging. She smiles brightly and I shall deem this "the smile of death."


"So, I'll see you around," she stands up, picking up her book. "I'm declaring myself your friend. I've gotta go finish up these History notes but we're going to hang out some time. Oh, and tell your weird ass friend to stop ogling me."

With that she was gone, leaving Chuck and I to stare at her retreating back. Chuck is the weird one? Chuck?

"…That made sense." 'What the fuck?'

"No shit."


Friday. 3:30 pm.

Commonly known as freedom.

I hop in my jeep with a sigh, glad to finally be rid of this place. Now, onto home, where the little bro and the parental units await. The drive is short and it's fucking hot outside, you know, the kind of hot that makes your shirt stick to your back; the kind that makes you not care that the pool has too much chlorine in it because you need to get wet. The sun beams down at me and I cover my eyes with my hand as I pull to the side of my house because the second slot in the driveway is taken.

Jared's car is there. Lovely.

I heave a sigh and ready myself for whatever the hell Jared has in store for me today. He's my bastard of a big brother that attends college an hour away so he doesn't live here anymore but he drops in from time to time. Mostly because he's my mom's favorite and she gives him whatever the hell he wants.

I close the door behind me and wonder if I can avoid him by sneaking up to my room right away. Of course, my throat is parched from the dry heat of outside, so I would have to forgo a water bottle. But… dehydration seems worth it, to avoid Jared.

God decided to have mercy on me once again because I manage to make it to my room. I sigh in relief and collapse onto my bed only to wince as I sit up and find the water bottle I was drinking from the night before under me. Half full, not cold or anything but…

Wow. Today hasn't been such a bad day after all. Mercedes didn't murder me, I avoided a confrontation with Jared, and didn't dehydrate doing so. Fan-fucking-tastic.

After homework and a nap, my luck runs out. I'm called down for dinner a couple hours later, and I see Jared slumped in a chair at the dining room. Mom is bringing everything to the table and Sidney is pulling Dad's laptop away from him.

Dad is pouting.

"Just two more senteces," he asks, reaching for it, but Sidney shakes his head and shuts the laptop down.

"It's dinner time, old man."

Dad looks like someone just killed his puppy with a spork.

I'll give my mom credit for this; she married a hell of a guy. I sit down between Dad and Sid after a moment, without speaking, and pour myself some sweet iced tea. I only look up from my cup when Jared kicks me from under the table, making a sharp sound of surprise more than pain come out of my mouth.

"What, you're not going to say hello to me, Dev?" Jared smirks at me from across the table. His spiky hair is styled in an almost Mohawk-like fashion, slicked up to a peak in the center. His dark grey eyes look at me with a haughty expectance.

"…Jared," I greet with a nod, serving myself some food when mom sits down.

"I do wish you'd told me you were coming over, Jared, I would have made Fettuccini Alfredo!" Mom says, setting the pot down on the table, on top of that cloth thingy designed for holding hot things. "I know it's your favorite."

"It's fine, mom," Jared shakes his head and gives her a charming smile. My mom smiles back and it makes me a little sick to my stomach.

I sit quietly and eat for a while as Jared asks about our lives since the last visit; Mom's article, Dad's book, and Sidney's first year of high school experience, the usual. From the corner of my eye as I chew on my spaghetti, I see his eyes on me. I'm subject to a lot of glares. I'm not sure if you've noticed. I bloody well have noticed.

"What about you, Devyn? How's your last year of high school going? Only a couple more months to go."

"Inadequate, I guess." 'Decent, I guess' because everyone else may hate me, but there is still Chuck. And my grades are rather good.

"Well, I'm doing great," Jared sidetracks, because everything he says is a road that leads to talking about himself again.

"You always did horrible in school," I comment off handedly. It was meant to be a compliment, and if he took the time to get it, he would know that. Instead he glowers. Jared purposefully takes what I say to heart, even though he knows.

"Is that so?" He grips his fork a little harder, "How's your boyfriend doing? What's his name again? Chuck?"

"My boyfriend is fucking disgusting!" 'He's not my boyfriend, and he's fucking awesome!' I snap at him, and he merely bursts out laughing.

"Jared, please don't say things like that," my dad says soothingly, and Jared calms down. Sidney looks at me, frowning, before excusing himself from the table. He's embarrassed by me…but that's okay. I get it. Jared is the one I can't understand. I've hurt him before, with my lying, but even before that he was an asshole to me for it.

"Jared isn't at fault here," my mom defends, looking at my dad, then me, and then back at the intimidating figure that is my older brother. "If Devyn would tell the truth, there wouldn't be embarrassing situations like this."

"Amen," Jared sneers as his narrow eyes turn on me. Anger bubbles inside me and I stand up quickly, intent on getting out of the room as quickly as possible.

"Where do you think you're going?" My mom says in a low voice, "Sit down. You avoided contact with us all day."

"I was avoiding you," It was a lie when it was said to my mom. But then I turned my eyes to Jared, so that everyone knew just who I was talking about. There are loopholes to this shit, once in a while.

Mom stands up quickly. "Apologize!"

I glare hotly and cross my arms over my chest.


Grudgingly, I force out my version of an apology. "I don't fucking regret it."

"You--!" Mom begins to roar, and dad stands up to, putting his hands on her shoulders and whispering something to her I don't quite catch.

Jared just smiles at me.

I'm livid. I can't stand this sometimes. I really, really can't. I slam my chair back into place and stomp from the dining room without another word. This time I pass the stairs and go straight to the living room and to the front door, walking out. The night air is warm, and I shut the door, walking down the road. I feel the bumpy, rough feel of asphalt beneath my bare feet.

Making my way to the park about ten blocks away, I slip inside the gate, only then do I pull out my cell phone and hit the speed dial on number 2: Chuck. Maybe I can spend the night with him. He's never been able to before; apparently his dad's really strict. I've never met the man before, but Charles doesn't seem to like him much. Even if I can't spend the night, maybe he can help calm me down. I start crying once I make it pass the gate.

Damn it. I hate this, being emotional like this, like a fucking girl or something. But how can someone just sit there a smile when they caused an argument between their little brother and his mom? Doesn't he have a fucking conscious? Even Chuck isn't that big of a bastard. Jared thinks he has a reason but it was years ago and I was only fourteen when I answered the phone. It was Jared's girlfriend, a paranoid bitch if I ever saw one, and when I told her Jared was at the library, she started shrieking about him cheating on her. Then she asked me if he was with another girl. He wasn't.

But… well. The rest is history.

That was five fucking years ago and I've apologized so much for it. Hell, he didn't even like that girl anyway. I'm jolted out of my inward rant when Chuck answers the phone.

"H… Hello?"

Charles is panting. Why is Charles panting? "Um…"

"Dev, what's up? Something wrong?"

"Well, yes…" I mutter, still wondering why he's panting. Charles doesn't pant, he's too dignified. What the hell? Why's he exercising this late at night?

"Oh, good," he pauses, catching his breath a little, "Hey, I'm a little… busy, Devyn. What's up?"


"Yeah… you know. Busy."

"Wh--" Oh. Right… he has a date tonight. Oh… I didn't even--Oh. My face is suddenly very hot and I bite my lip, running my hand through my hair again, smacking myself mentally. "…Oh."

"Yeah. You sure you're okay?"

"N-No," I managed and he gives a sigh of relief. I'm so fucking embarrassed. Chuck on the other end of the line… screwing a girl…

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then, Dev."

"I'm not coming," I said and rub at my eyes slightly because there are still tears there, and I hear him give another goodbye before there's a click.

How annoying am I? Ah, whatever, I'll get over it. Both calling Chuck at eleven at night and my mom screaming at me. It's not the first time she's caused me to run out of the house. She's always had a terrible reaction to my lying and, sometimes, I can't take the yelling anymore. The first time was when I was twelve and I spun her a story about how my teacher hadn't given us any homework over the holidays because he was a Jehovah's Witness and didn't celebrate Christmas anyway or something like that. She'd been so pissed when school arrived once again, even though I'd actually done the repost.

I didn't get it. I'd done the homework so what was the big deal? But she doesn't care. When I was younger it was worse because I'd constantly get in trouble for lying. When the doctors said they thought I couldn't help it, everything changed. Maybe she's so mad because she can't really discipline me for something I can't help.

She loves me anyway... I think.

I mean, she didn't make me take those fucking pills. Sure, I could tell the truth with them but only because I was so out of it that the truth was the only thing that made sense. My mom was pissed when I told her I didn't want to take them anymore. But she didn't force me. I was never sure what to think about that.

The night air is fresh, cool, and makes my skin have goosebumps. My feet are cold and I sit here until I feel dew in the grass, in other words, for a while. Over an hour passes and I'm still here, still awake… still waiting to go home. I want them to be asleep first, so that they don't hear me sneak back in through my window. Hopefully Jared is gone by now. If not I might just sleep in my jeep.

After a little more time, I decide to exit the park, starting back down the winding sidewalk that leads to the gate entrance. The moment I step through the gate, I am faced with two people.

One, a petite girl with brown hair, the plain pretty sort with hair as short as mine. The man next to her is tall, broad in the shoulders and muscled, but with a narrow waist. His hair is pulled back, and for a moment I don't recognize him in the dark. Then the light from a nearby street lamp hits him just right.


"…No?" I say, eyes wide, because what the hell is the detective doing here in the middle of the night? That doesn't make any sense. What in the world…?

"You fit the description of someone we're looking for here," the girl says, showing off her badge, and I swallow thickly. I do? What do they mean by that? "Where have you been for the last two hours?"

"…" I don't answer. I can't answer. I can't answer because I'll lie and this is the fucking police.

"If you won't answer," Detective… Marcus, I think, says in a gruff voice. "Then I'll have to ask you if you'll come down to the station with us."

It's not a question, not really, but my stupid mouth goes off anyway.

"Sure thing."

What was I saying about this being a good day again? I guess that ended up being a lie too.




Hello everyone! XD I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm glad you all like Chuck and Devyn, and the next chapter should give you some more to go on with Marcus.

Okay, to answer something a few reviewers were troubled about. You're right, Devyn is not a pathological liar. I made up this disorder, and it is plausible for there to be this sort of brain dysfunction, with people having OCD, Teret's Syndrome and Pathological lying. So yeah, pathological lying was what I called it in the summary to explain it…limited writing space and all. (:

Please tell us what you think. Reviews make us happy pandas!

Nilah and DeathsDrug