Alexander Green
After storming out of lunch—I couldn't spend a second longer there, watching Knox kiss her: everything I always wanted—I went to work at the diner, cooking food.
I wanted to stay there for the rest of the day, too tired to go anywhere anymore, but I had to go to football practice. Usually, I love football, and love playing it, but even that couldn't help for once.
I spent the whole 45 minutes thinking of Knox kissing Violet. It doesn't even help that the dick himself plays football with us.
I spent the whole time watching him smirk and grin every time he makes a simple pass. So much so that Coach had to call me out multiple times, telling me to focus again. What he didn't know is that I couldn't.
The same scene keeps on replaying in my mind. Over and over.
I had a feeling that they were dating during math class. I mean, holding hands, her laughing over something that is most definitely not funny? Pure relationship actions.
At least, there was still a sliver of hope that they weren't dating. That she didn't like him. That she might like me.
Well, that all got crushed the second I saw him sit down and kiss her. I mean, he doesn't even sit down next to her during lunch. I would know. I spend almost the whole time admiring her: the way she laughs, smiles at the slightest things, nods her head with a wary smile on her face whenever she pretends that she understood what they said, when, in reality, she didn't catch a word.
I love everything about her. I love her.
I would love her way more than the dick Knox.
The second I got to my building, I ran up to my room to text Violet.
I could talk to her for hours. Sadly, she had to leave. What she doesn't know is that I would cancel any and every plan I have for her.
I get up from my bed. I've been spending the past two hours laying down here, just thinking about today. I should probably start doing my homework, but I just feel too tired to right now.
It's fine. I'll just do it tomorrow when I get to meet Violet.
I'm so excited to see her after school. I'm going to be going to her house, so I get to see how it looks like. Maybe I can learn more about her from it.
I startle from the loud sound of my phone ringing.
"Xander, boy," my father calls out in slurring words. "Come home."
Ugh not this again. I am not in the mood.
I can already imagine him on the couch watching television slowly opening a beer with his fat fingers.
"No. We talked about this. I need to go to school. I can' t be there for you all the time."
My dad drinks a lot every day. He spends almost all his time in his local bar, staying there from the moment it opens until the point where they forcefully kick him out. He drinks his growing weight in alcohol almost every day.
"I need you to come home and tidy up the place for me."
"Do it yourself. You're a grown man."
But you sure aren't acting like one.
"Come home. Right now! I won't ask you again. If you don't come... I'm telling you. You'll be sorry!" he yells. I can picture his face turning red in anger.
I've learned to take his abuse at this point, too tired to do anything else about it. I've given up years ago.
"I'll come another day. Ask Mom to help you right now," I say, ending the call.
Mom is probably back from work at this point. She's the janitor at the local middle school, spending her whole day cleaning up pre-teen's messes. She usually gets off work around 7 PM, but spends a couple hours at her gym, taking yoga classes. She was born from a rich family, but fell in love with my father, giving up her luxurious life for a horrible life in poverty. According to her, my father was this amazing person, but then she got pregnant with me at sixteen, and everything went to hell.
He started abusing her, and getting mad over the simplest things like messing up the brand of his beer.
She isn't any better, though. She didn't raise me, never did. I was left to take care of myself. When I was sick and we didn't have any medicine, I had to walk over to the store and get it myself. When I was struggling with school in middle school, I had to either ask my friends and the teacher, or give up. Of course, I'm not one to ask for help, so I ended up giving up. Leading me here, failing math and almost all my other classes.
After cleaning up, I went upstairs and lay down in my bed, too tired to do anything else.
That night, I dream of Violet: her smiles, her laughs, her beautiful blue eyes.