Time Change (bxb)

Thirty-Five

Time P.O.V

The negativity that I was worried about didn't disappear after breakfast; it instead followed my siblings out of the house and into the car, where we all sat in 'silence.' They were mad at me, each for different reasons but conjunctively mad nonetheless. Gregory was p*ssed because he was being forced to associate with me, thus tainting his social reputation with my much worse one. Paige was upset because she got grounded, which I should argue is her own fault for almost letting her injured brother starve. Trevor's just bitter because I took the last piece of bacon. I'm used to being the least favorite, the one they complain about the most. I'm not like them; that much is devastatingly clear. They just thought I was a weirdo who liked to meddle in other people's business; the truth is I'm a weirdo who can't help but meddle, not that they'd understand that.

I try not to think about it, but it's hard to do so when I'm trapped in a small vehicle with them, and they're all thinking about how much they hate me right now. That's what I meant by 'silence.' When nothing is verbally being said but I still hear all the things that I wish I couldn't.

It was moments like this that I desperately wished I couldn't read minds. I could pretend that they weren't upset with me, that everything was fine between us, and that we were normal siblings who occasionally fought but stood up for each other without hesitation when it mattered. We aren't like that, though, and I don't think we ever will be.

The moment Gregory parked the car, Paige and Trevor flung themselves from the vehicle, running off toward the middle school directly beside the high school gym. Gregory and I lingered there for a moment, in the car, in the silence. He was trying to mentally prepare himself, thinking about the fastest ways he could secure me a wheelchair and abandon me. Wow, what a great older brother. He didn't want to be seen with me more than he had to, having already created a scenario in his head that explained him assisting me, should anyone ask. 'We are neighbors, and his parents asked me to help him out' or something along those lines. It hurt, but it wasn't anything new; none of them really wanted to be associated with me, and for their sake and my own, I didn't push it.

"Let's get this over with," Gregory grumbled, removing the keys from the ignition and sliding out of the car.

"Gladly," I mumbled under my breath, getting out of the car as quickly as I could with a useless foot. I thought for a moment that Gregory was going to make me 'walk' into the school without support, but to my surprise, he supported me into the building, giving me a shoulder to lean on. Because of how early we arrived at the school, there wasn't anybody in the hallways other than a few teachers and some of the cheerleaders, who, based on their appearances, had been called into the school early for something. They paid us little attention aside from moving aside to let us through and muffled comments too quiet for me to hear with my ears, but my mind heard them loud and clear. 'Looks like the weirdo got what was coming to him.' The whispers and stares combined pushed my brother to speed up, his worries worsening as more people funneled into the school. 'Can he walk any slower?' 'They need to give me more than just gas money for this torture.'

Gregory might as well have shoved me into the front office with his eagerness to relinquish his siblingly obligation.

"Welcome back to school, Mr. Locke. I'm sure your teachers have missed your presence," And I'm sure they didn't even notice I was gone, but we can pretend if you'd like. The office lady smiled at me, but it was artificial. She pointed to the opposite side of the office, where, beside a line of uncomfortable-looking chairs, was what I was assuming to be my temporary transportation in this place. It was a well-used wheelchair covered in duct tape that kept some of the vinyl material from falling apart. "Bring it back every day after your classes end, okay?"

After plopping me roughly into the wheelchair, Gregory let out an annoyed sigh. I can't imagine how difficult it must be for him to help his brother around. I get that he isn't happy about it, and sure, he can't help what I can hear, but he could at least try and pretend that he didn't hate being around me.

"Be at my car by 3:25, or I'm leaving you, regardless of what mom will say." And with that, he stormed out of the office, leaving me to figure out how I was going to open the office door. Aren't there supposed to be laws that require handicapped access? Fortunately, I didn't have to ponder the law for long, as someone entered the office and politely held the door open for me long enough for me to roll myself out. It was safe to say that I didn't love the wheelchair, but I pushed the negative mindset away as I reminded myself of the reasons I had been excited to return to school for: Marcus.

The only reason I had been looking forward to returning to school was because I wanted to see Marcus and Grayson if the opportunity presented itself. I have stopped trying to figure out my unhealthy infatuation with the supernatural duo; I didn't care whatever was drawing me to them; I was just happy to have friends, at least, I hope they consider me that. Being stuck in the house for two weeks without a phone has led to a bit of mental torment on my part, as I have seriously started overthinking everything, especially Marcus and Grayson. I can only hope that our reunion will help me clear up some of the things that have been bothering me.

I started rotating the wheels faster, suddenly filled with a sense of determination as the idea of seeing Marcus was on the brink of being a reality, and not much could have soured my mood.

No sooner do I think that does one of the few people who I wanted to avoid running into turn the corner and upon, seeing me, beelined toward me and unlike other times, I was unable to get away.

"Oh, Jordan, I feel like I haven't seen you in forever," and I was hoping it would be a little while before I happened to see you again. "What do I owe the pleasure?" I asked hesitantly, my hands clenching the wheels in preparation to try and 'run away.'

I should have expected the punch. To be fair, I would have wanted to punch me too, had I been in her shoes, but I don't think we wear the same size.

It still hurt . . . my pride. Physically, too, but mostly my pride. 

Note: Hi. :)