Chapter Eleven:
“Owen, Owen, look,” Fisher laughed. I turned to look at what the hell was so exciting and saw Fisher with two lit cigarettes jammed up his nostrils. “It’s a metaphor.”
I stifled a pity laugh, ripped the things out of his nose before he managed to cause some serious damage, and put them out on the cement. He groaned a complaint and punched my arm for wasting them. I didn’t care quite frankly. Cliff was skateboarding in front of us, despite the fact there was a clear sign that forbid any type of wheels to roll in front of the library. His brown roots were growing back, which only made his hair look like he wore a crown of bubblegum. He’s refused to re-dye his hair pink and rather let his natural color grow back. I mean, whatever, it’s his hair.
Fisher lit a third cigarette beside me, in which I automatically cringed at. This time, the end actually made it into his mouth instead of any other inappropriate hole in his body.
“Did you know a person who is exposed to second hand smoke has just as much risk of getting lung cancer as the one smoking?” I said, remembering something my health teacher said in seventh grade.
Fisher narrowed his brow, “What’s second hand smoke?”
I groaned and batted his smoke away from my face. He always smelled fucking horrible; either wreaked of smoke or cover-up cologne.
“Where’s Danny?” Cliff asked as he bunked a flip.
Fisher chuckled beside me, “Why? Are you gay for him, brother?”
At this, Cliff tripped over his own foot and sent his skateboard rolling across the parking lot. He glared at Fisher and then took the walk of shame to go fetch it. To be honest with you, I wasn’t particularly interested in defending Cliff’s sexuality, but I felt it was an old joke already.
“Do you know Tegan Klein?” Fisher asked while he exhaled. I thought about his question for a while, and sure enough, a hipster-glasses-wearing red head popped to mind.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think I should ask her out?”
I shrugged, “Dunno.”
“But do you think I should?”
“Don’t care.”
“Yeah, but do you think—“
“Jesus Christ, Fisher, I think you should goddamn marry the girl. Happy?”
He sighed. He always fucking sighs. “You’re jealous.”
I snorted a laugh, “What?”
“It’s painfully obvious, Owen,” He said, nodding his head and closing his eyes, “You don’t want a girl ruining our friendship. That’s alright, man. Cry it out and then we’ll go get a drink. Tears before beers.”
He put a reassuring arm around my shoulder, to which I immediately swatted off. Cliff came trotting back by that time, with a very deformed Danny by his side. His lip was now purple and plump, resembling more like a sausage with veins than a human mouth.
“Well hello, Angelina Jolie. Where’s Brad?” Fisher joked with a cheesy smirk.
Danny’s eyes flamed of anger, but he just crossed his arms and looked down to his shoes. Cliff stood awkwardly beside him before he let his board fall. Placing his foot on top of it, he balanced it out of boredom.
“How’s the… uh… lip?” I asked. I felt a little uncomfortable asking, considering I was the one who gave it to him.
“Peachy,” He answered in his ill-way of speaking.
“He said peachy,” Cliff translated, despite the fact we could figure it out for ourselves.
“I came to hear you say sorry.”
“He said, ‘I came to hear you say sorry.’”
“Who? Me?” I asked, pointing at my chest. Fisher’s smoke was really irritating me at this point and so was Cliff, the way he kept repeating everything Danny said in that annoying, high-pitched voice of his.
“Yes, you!”
“He said, ‘Yes—“
“Holy tits, Cliff, we know! Shut up!” Fisher yelled, throwing his water bottle at Cliff’s stomach. Cliff threw it back, but it landed nowhere near him.
“I have nothing to be sorry about,” I scoffed, “I didn’t want to play soccer, I wanted to play Super Smash Bros. It’s your own goddamn fault—take responsibility for once.”
Danny’s eyelids flew open as he heard my last sentence. Along with him, both Cliff and Fisher glanced at me with a blank expression. They all exchanged looks, seeming to think the same thought. I glared at all of them, thoroughly confused and annoyed.
“Oh God, what is it?” I exclaimed.
Fisher furrowed his brow, “Dude, just say sorry.”
“No, I’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
“Owen,” Cliff said, “You busted his lip with his own soccer ball. Some lines have been crossed. Just apolo—“
“Can you shut the fuck up, Cliff? No one even fucking likes you. Your stupid voice alone gives me headaches.”
Cliff stared at me for a prolonged period of time. Finally, he just kicked his skateboard so it flew back to his palm and picked it up. Instead of saying anything else with his irritating windpipe, he just stuck out his middle finger and began walking the opposite way. Danny jogged up to Fisher and I and grabbed my soda from the sidewalk. Afterwards, Danny followed Cliff, patting a reassuring hand on his back before Cliff quickly squirmed away. I scoffed, shook my head, and silently cursed Danny for stealing my favorite drink.
“You’re a bastard, you know that?” Fisher said. He put out his cigarette on the asphalt.
“Nope, the thought never occurred to me.” But before I could even finish my sentence, Fisher was up on his feet and had already started heading the way Danny and Cliff did. I stood up abruptly.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
Fisher turned around so that he was walking backwards, “Danny’s mom makes good tater-tots and you make bad decisions. I think I’m leaving.”
I rolled my eyes, “You guys are fucking morons.”
“Well,” Fisher shrugged, “At least we’re morons with good food. If you want some, you know where to find us.”
YOU ARE READING
The Misadventures of Owen Bonner
Teen Fiction❝I swear, people are the cause of cancer.❞
