Freak (Troyler AU)

Chapter Two

*Tyler's POV*

"I don't get why you can't just blow it off, this is the last party of the summer, Ty. Do you really think you can afford to miss it?" I held the phone to my ear with my shoulder awkwardly, trying to multi-task and straighten my hair as I talked to him. I cussed under my breath, feeling the hot metal come into contact with my skin. I was beginning to get really frustrated with it, but I couldn't just give up like I normally did. I had to look good today. I sighed aloud, realizing I still hadn't replied to my zany best friend.

"Afford to? Marcus, do you have any idea how irrelevant your little junior parties are? I've been to like thirteen college parties this summer. I've hooked up with sorority chicks! And you think missing that mess is going to affect something?" I snapped, vaguely aware that I may be being a bit too harsh on him. It's not like you could blame me though, he hadn't shut-up about this party since they planned it two weeks ago. Originally I had planned to go, before my 'family reunion' came up suddenly.

"Okay, fine, it's not that big of a deal, but it's still better than that family junk, isn't it?" I let out an exasperated huff, setting my straightener down so I could hold the phone properly.

"Family 'junk'? What if my grandmother dies before I get to see her next just because I ditched for some lame party? Do you think I could ever forgive myself for that?"

"Well, no, I guess-"

"You guess? Honestly, Marcus, you can be such a bonehead sometimes. Call me tomorrow, leave me in peace for the rest of the night, please." I snapped, ending the call immediately before he even got the chance to respond. Now that I had two free hands it was a lot easier to style my hair. I ran some gel through it, messing around until I was completely satisfied with my blonde quiff. I'd been thinking about dying it a lot lately, but I was also very nervous. The big bad quarterback is not taken nearly as serious when he has purple hair, or at least that was what Caspar had chastised me with when I mentioned it. 

I glanced in the mirror one last time, taking a deep breath before turning on my heel and walking out of the bathroom. I could hear the scratchy radio playing quietly in the other room, though the song wasn't familiar. Our house was a single story flat, two bedrooms, a bathroom, a small living room, and a kitchen. It was small, in a bad neighborhood, and our landlord was a convicted felon. Strangely enough, it was an improvement from the last house we'd lived in.

I strolled into the kitchen, swinging my hips slightly as I located some breakfast/dinner. This whole getting up before noon thing wasn't what I'd grown accustomed to over the summer, but I wanted to be certain I got up on time today. Aside from trying to get back into the habit, I also had something important to do. 

My very first job interview. 

I was both overwhelmingly excited and nervous. I hadn't told a single soul, for multiple reasons. My mother, would either get extremely excited then be disappointed if I didn't get it, or she'd lecture me about enjoying my youth while I still had it and that she could take care of things on her own. My friends, were the very reason I hadn't gotten a job before now. They'd never let me live it down, calling me a momma's boy or whipped. Except they wouldn't find out even if I did get the job, that was the beauty of this place. It wasn't even in the town where everyone went to hangout. It was some convenience store that hardly anyone went to anymore, located in the middle of one of the better neighborhoods around. It'd be easy work, with no risk of any of my friends finding their way in. It was a dream come true. Granted I actually got the job, that is. 

I'd been wanting a job since my fifteenth birthday, actually probably even sooner than that. I'd been listening to my mother worry and stress over money my entire life, the thought that I might be able to help her with it was almost too perfect to handle. My dad had not shared my people-pleaser attitude though, considering he didn't think twice about walking out the second things got hard. And by things getting hard, I mean the second Mom found out she was pregnant with me. I didn't mind anymore though, I'd long ago gotten over any sour feelings toward him. From what I heard, he wasn't someone I wanted in my life anyway.