(the real) eiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

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haha, i'm mean, aren't i?

making you guys wait so long.

you're so amazing, like, beyond words amazing.

and guess what? I LOVE YOU ALL.

okay, here it is.

CHAPTER EIGHT!

shit. i thought i had it here. um....-looks through piles of junk- not in here! -looks in closet- not in here!

ROBIN GIVE ME MY PAPER BACK.

sorry, the cat has it. pardon me if it's not all gramatically correct.

and here, is my next thing i am sharing with all of you.

http://www.wattpad.com/4963992-the-pavement-on-a-sidewalk-ch-1 <---belongs to my awesome bio buddy and i have no clue how i would have survived school without this girl. go check it out!

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It's been two weeks since I was ambushed by Timmy in the graveyard.

I've gone to school consistently for those two weeks (minus the day I had to leave early), and I reward myself with a visit to Justin every day after school.

It seems like he almost knows where I'm headed after school, and leaves me to it. Sometimes I swear he must be spying on me, but when I turn around, there's no kid in sight.

I haven't spoken in front of anyone. I've been extra careful.

"Hey, Damian?" Timmy stops me on a Friday as I'm shoving books into my locker and what must be a year's worth of doodles and notes passed in class into my backpack.

I turn to face him, since I'm still following the general rules of muteness.

"Well um...a few of us are going to the park andiwaswonderingifmaybeyou'dliketocomewithus?" He looks down at his shoes, blushing cherry red into the scuffed floor.

Who's "us"?

"Oh yeah! I almost forgot to tell you who's coming! Well, it'll be Andrea and Marcus and those two girls with the super duper short hair who look like boys and Sarah and well...me."

Can he read my mind?

They're not a bad bunch of kids, just...different. Justin and I spent time with all of them at some point in our lives. Except for Timmy.

Justin never met Timmy.

Timmy would have driven him crazy because, well, Timmy is kind of an unrefined version of my ex-boyfriend. He lacks the fear gene the majority of us live by.

I nod. I'll come. For him.

Just for him.

I may have a slight fascination with this boy.

"You will? Really?" Timmy's face breaks out in a genuine smile. "You're the best, Damian!"

I'm encircled by his frequent display of affection, also known as a hug.

Don't push it. I'm still fragile.

"Well, I'll just tell them not to wait for me, and we'll walk there together, okay? Does that sound okay with you?"

Alright.

While he texts one of the mystery kids, I finish the seemingly impossible task at hand- separating the absolutely useless crap from the salvageable papers. Anything with Justin's touch on it automatically stays. Poem after poem of mine finds its way into the trash.

I slam the door shut, frustrated. Not in the mood to finish.

Out of my sight, Timmy was reading the papers I tossed out.

What are you doing?

"Wow. These are really good, Damian. You never told me you wrote."

I never told you anything, remember? I don't talk.

"It's super obvious this guy was your world, huh?" He walks beside me, eyes still fixed on the crumpled document. "It's really touching."

This is the first time I've seen him so calm.

"Come on." Timmy leads me forward, down a path I've traveled so many times. I could walk this town with my eyes snapped shut, as long as I had an elbow to cling on to.

I take the risk, and prepare for the fall.

I reach out and wrap my arm around his.

He doesn't even flinch. He just allows his elbow bend to match the angle of mine.

"I've got something I want to tell you, while we're alone."

We're not really alone, but anyone around isn't listening. They're getting high, or getting laid. Too busy with their own lives to focus on us for once.

Go on.

"Um..." This is the second time today he's been unsure of himself. "I've figured out that Justin was your boyfriend at one point, yeah? And I'm guessing that was ended because of his uh...passing on, am I right?"

Yeah.

"I had a friend back where I used to live who was like you, kinda. She was dating this guy who killed himself, and to deal with the trauma, she kind of detached herself from everyone, you know? And she stopped talking. And I tried to get her help and everything but..."

He looks away.

He couldn't save her.

"She killed herself anyway. But the thing was, if she wasn't so busy being sad and coulda stepped away from her grief, she might have been alive today. I'm scared that's gonna happen to you. I kinda like you, Damian. I'd be sad if you left. It sucks to lose a friend."

Timmy's got a lot more going on beneath that candy coated surface than lets on.

"Oh. My. God. Have you ever had one of these before?" He holds up a little green package, already back to his normal self. In any other person, it'd seem shallow.

But he's got ADHD and neon blue hair.

"They fizz! In your mouth! Like and it's really cool and feels all weird. Have you ever had one?"

I have, but I accept the Zotz to make him happy. Watermelon sugar melts on my tongue.

Thank you. I hope he can read my thoughts.

The one time it counts, he doesn't. "I wish you'd talk, sometimes. It's hard to have a conversation with yourself. I never know what you're thinking, and I'm scared I get it all wrong. Don't you ever have like a bazillion different ideas in your head all fighting to get out until you finally explode and just have to scream them all out?"

That's why I write.

"Oh, here's your poem back, by the way." He slips the paper into m-Justin's pocket and races forward to greet the colorful kids arranged in a semi-circle on the grass.

It's a beautiful picture, with the smoke off the tip of a cigarette drifting lazily towards the sky, but only one thing holds them together.

One thing I just can't do right now.

The girl Timmy brought over to me the other day, Andrea, takes a sip from a paper covered bottle and passes it along the circle. A boy with Hawaii ocean hair beside me widens his eyes and chews the inside of his mouth.

"Shit," I hear the first word of profanity pass from Timmy's lips.

He can't deal with alcohol either.

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