Shoot Me. #JustWriteIt

*CHAPTER FOUR*

          I found Matt comforting. He was a pretty decent guy, so I got his number and we've been texting non-stop.

          His contact name was Mattress (it was our inside joke), but it was a pun with his name. In his phone, my contact name was Mickey Mouse.

          I figured out he was in detention for Mrs. Fredrickson because he was listening to music and when she asked him to turn it off, he turned the volume up. For some reason, I found that so funny and I could relate to it.

          "Do you have any plans for the weekend?" I typed.

          No, just lounging around mainly. Haha.

          I smiled, pinching by bottom lip, but before I could get my fingers on the screen, Andrew messaged me. I'm done with this. And I couldn't do anything but worry.

          See, the thing with Andrew was that he's had a depression background. He's ran away several times before and during those, I've struggled with staying focused and he's struggled with staying alive. I'm not going to give away too much information, but Andrew has attempted suicide several times.

          But people have always been there to stop him. I being one of them.

          So as those four words appeared on my screen, I was sort of scared. I skimmed through our conversation and realized he meant he was done with his homework, though.

          That made me feel stupid.

          I replied to him with a quick "Okay." and I continued back to my conversation with Matt. "Lounging around sounds boring :P"

          It showed he was typing, within seconds I got a reply, Wish I had someone to hang out with. Everyone thinks I'm a creep. :(

          "I don't..."

          Well, duh. You're talking to me now. He stated.

          I smiled and hollered at my grandparents. "Can I have a friend over?!" I waited patiently for an answer. When they said yes, I was telling Matt the directions to get here.

          Matt didn't live too far, just right down the road. Once we got to know each other in detention, I gave him a ride home. His parents said he'd have to walk because he did the wrong thing by getting in trouble in the first place. So, I was just being a nice friend.

          As I waited for Matt to get to my place, I decided it would be best to clean my room.

          It was a mess.

          I had clothes strung across the room, a bra dangling on the door knob, my book bag and it's insides scattered throughout the rest of the disastrous maze of crap. My bed was the only thing that looked nice. It was perfectly made with the teal and white chevron comforters and the coral color pillow that I thought was a perfect match, along with the pale brown teddy bear that sat in the middle with those sad, black, glass eyes.

          He witnessed everything that day, too.

          "First time in forever I've had company over," I mumbled to him, "I hope he doesn't think you're childish." I sigh in relief as I had finished picking up the room to make it look somewhat decent.

          The bra was put back in the dresser along with the clothes that had been on the floor that I knew were clean. The dirty clothes were shoved in the laundry basket I kept sitting in the corner. I had collected all of my text books, placing them back in my book bag, and I crumpled up all of the loose paper that I should've cleaned out of my bag three weeks ago. I was such a paper hoarder. During school if the teacher passed back assignments, I would just shove them in my bag, they wouldn't be organized like everyone else and when it came time to turn them in, I knew I always had them done, I just couldn't ever find them. I need to fix my filing system.