Umbrellas

☂ solitude

                                                          ☂ • ☂ • ☂ 

                        [ in which a character says something he regrets ]

                                                           ☂ • ☂ • ☂ 

      HUDSON PARKS LIKES solitude.

     He likes solitude, but not in that introverted I like to sit in the tiny dark corner kind of way, because Hudson Parks really hates tiny dark corners (especially if it involves him sitting in them). Rather, it's in the I don't have to constantly share food and lend money to others because nobody asks kind of way, which suits him just fine.

     He likes that his lunch and money remain his and not some random friend's who promises to repay the debt back on a fortnight, which everybody knows is just code for never.

     (Because let's be real, no one remembers fortnights.)

     He doesn't like small talk, he doesn't like loud people, and he doesn't like people who say twelve sentences when one would do.

     No, he doesn't particularly like any of those things, but somehow they are all qualities eminent in his best friend, Roy.

     Roy is amazingly riotous, perhaps the worst speller in the entire state, and has a knack for turning simple statements into incredibly perverted nuances. He's pretty sure that the only similarites they share are that they are both teenage boys. Most of the time, Hudson wonders how they even are friends in the first place.

     Especially during times like these.

     "What's six inches long, two inches wide, and drives all the women wild?" Roy asks with a goofy grin on his face that most definitely is not a result of the riveting logarithmic math equations they have to finish.

     "Hmm?" Hudson asks.

     "Just think about it."

     Judging by the sly slant of his eyebrow, Hudson can infer that this probably has some perverted undertone to it. After a moment of too much thought, he realizes it.

     "Roy-"

     "Did you get it?"

     He shifts uncomfortably. "Uh-"

     Roy smiles wickedly. "Obviously it's-"

     "No. Please, don't." He keeps his voice cleverly pitched under the normal chatter in the classroom, as he doesn't want the math teacher, Mr. Rembool, looking by just as Roy says something undoubtedly wrong.

     Mr. Rembool is special, to say the least. From the tip of his socks and sandals to the top button of his orange houndstooth checkered shirt, he is indisputably the most flamboyant of the school staff. He actually has become quite notorious for something other than his fashion sense, though; his love of mockery, especially when it deals with student matters.

     Just two weeks ago, he proceeded to read and show all of the contents (read: semi nudes saved on her photostream) of head cheerleader Sabrina Meyer's phone after she was caught texting in class, an experience nothing short of horrifying for her.

     It goes without saying that Sabrina has never once taken out her phone during school hours ever again.

     So with that in mind, quite clearly the first thing Hudson must do before Roy can continue the joke is to sneak a discreet glance at Mr. Rembool. When he looks over and sees his teacher is busy at work grading an Brobdingnagian pile of papers, he figures that today is not the day for total embarrassment after all.