"Hey, what's up?"
"Nothing much, just chillin'."
"Cool. So, how's your mom?"
"You know, she hurt her-"
"Oh, that! She's okay. She hurts herself all the time, so it's no big deal."
"Ah, that's good. Not that she gets hurt a lot, but that her leg is okay."
"Yeah, didn't she hurt her leg?"
"Yeah, but that was, like, three weeks ago."
"Oh. Then what were you talking about?"
"Her back. She threw is out or something like that."
"Oh, I didn't know, sorry."
"Anyway, how's your girlfriend?"
"She's good. She's at lessons right now, but I'm gonna pick her up later and take her out to dinner."
"Cool. She rides horses, right?"
"I thought she was a horse fanatic."
"No, I think you're getting confused with Chloe."
"But, isn't Chloe your girlfriend?"
"Nah, I broke up with her."
"Like, last month."
"Really? So, who are you picking up later?"
"Oh. So, was she the one who broke her ankle?"
"No, that was Brinda."
The Last Chapter"I miss him."
"I know. Me too."
Silence. A loud sports car roars by, breaking it.
"Will we ever see him again?"
"You sound optimistic."
"I call it optimistic pessimism. Or is it pessimistic optimism?"
"What would you call it, then?"
"Giving up." I reply bluntly.
Another silence follows. Cars roar continuously below us, ignorant of us watching them from the hill above the arching highway. The sky turns a deep red-orange color, turning the ocean into a dazzling array of gems. In the distance, I can hear the waves crashing onto the rocks, adding to the numerous puddles from the night before.
"Do you miss her, too?" His question surprises me; he's never inquired about my sister before.
"Of course I do. Everyday."
He sighs, and says, "That must hurt a lot, especially after thirteen years."
"Yeah. Whenever I think about her, I always get the feeling that something is missing from my life, even after all this time." I pause and think about the last ten years, and
Loose ScrewsWhy is this desk so wobbly? I ask myself as my desk lands on the opposite leg again. It probably has a screw loose (just like the rest of the world), I think as I try to situate my appendages so they balance the legs of the chair. I roll up the sleeves of my sweatshirt and I start thinking violent thoughts about what I should do to this frustrating chair, when suddenly, I'm knocked from my daydream by a question:
"What are you doing?"
I look to my right and see that someone is whisper-shouting at me. He's leaning over in my direction, trying to duck behind the student in front of him. I guess he doesn't want to get caught by the teacher for talking. Just like Devin to want to do something bad but not get caught. I remember this one time when he, Anton, and I were ten, and we planned on using Anton's brother's genuine samurai swords for our daily pirate (Devin) vs. ninja (me) vs. wizard (Anton) match. They hung on his bedroom wall, so while he was out with frien
Never Will I"Look! It's a gullible!" a stubby finger points to the sky.
"Right here!" the appendage came down to rest in between her eyebrows. Flustered at her childish mistake, the teased girl swatted the finger away while her two companions guffawed at her naïveté.
"Oh yeah?" the five-year-old said with a smirk on her rosy face," Well, I bet you still think that Santa Claus is real!"
The duo went silent and a doubting frown crossed their faces simultaneously. Sensing their disbelief, the girl continued before they could respond. "Only babies still believe in him. You guys need to grow up and stop believing such bologna." Though very smart for a kindergartner, she had yet to learn better vocabulary.
"Pfft, yeah right! Our parent's wouldn't have lied to us!" He paused, as if doubting his own statement, and turned to his fellow comrade. "Would they?"