do you want a ride?

“That’s probably because people don’t usually riff on violins,” Rich replied sarcastically. He wasn’t very good at taking compliments that it was easier to just make a joke than acknowledge Brooke’s compliment. “I mean, you probably could, but I don’t think anyone actually does that.” He smirked slightly.

With a playful roll of her eyes, she shook her head as she took another bite of her lunch. She was familiar with Rich’s sense of humor. She understood it better than most of the other kids at school did. He was a smart-ass but it was his way of accepting what she was saying. “Couldn’t tell you if anyone ever has. Can’t say I’d be too big of a fan of the sour notes that would get hit.”

He almost said his name again, before remembering that he had already introduced himself. He kept his eyes on the ground as he shuffled his feet slightly. It shouldn’t be so hard to carry on a conversation. People do it every day. He might not be the most likable person, but…he should be able to speak to someone without panicking.

Rich glanced down at the table before giving another, more dismissive shrug. Given the choice, Rich would always brush off the issues with his dad, try and pretend it wasn’t a big deal. He knew Brooke was just trying to be supportive, and he appreciated the gesture, but…he hated thinking about how different his family is from everyone else. “Riffs really aren’t something on sheet music, it’s a lot of improv. It’s more about learning knew styles.”

Brooke often did her best to dance around the subject of his father and her utter disdain for him. But sometimes, whether she liked it or not, it slipped through, and she’d utter some profanity and complain. It wasn’t a normal occurrence, but sometimes she couldn’t quite help it. “See? A musical genius would know that. I took violin for like three months when I was in the second grade, and I haven’t touched an instrument to this day.”

“No. Dad was home last night and he’s not exactly crazy about me playing, so…” he shrugged a little. His father’s threatened to get rid of his guitars before, and Rich isn’t about risk it. Two of them had been gifts from his mother, and the other one had been hers. He’d rather just…not play when his dad’s around than tempt his dad to act on the threats.

Brooke hated how Mr. Goranski was. Raised by loving parents, she never experienced an unkind parent until Rich had moved to town and the two became friends. He was cruel and it was a norm that Brooke had too much trouble understanding. Eventually, she adjusted, and did her best to be there for her friend. He certainly needed the support with a home life like that. “Fuck your dad, dude. He should be proud of you. You learn riffs without sheet music.” She nudged him gently.

He jumped a little as he heard the girl’s voice, and sure enough—it’s just enough movement to get the locker open. “I was just trying—I needed a book from…” he trailed off, instead just grabbing the algebra textbook from the locker and making a slight, awkward gesture with it. He doesn’t really look at her, mostly out of reluctance to see her reaction to his lisp. He’s seen and heard so many reactions to it from his peers—and he definitely got quite a few laughs when he was trying to talk today. He just…didn’t want to deal with any more of them.

She was used to boys being nervous around her. Boys like Dustin and Jake didn’t ever waver. They had popularity on their side. But boys like Jeremy Heere, and now this new kid, were jumpy and nervous. She was a symbol of popularity. If she was new, it would certainly be unnerving. She offered a warm smile, readjusting her bag on her shoulder. “It’s alright. You’re not in trouble or anything. I’m not a hall monitor.” She reassured him gently. She giggled gently at his lisp, though it was far from malicious. No one else in school had one, but that just made him stand out in his own way. At least to her. She knew Chloe had already probably made some comment about it.

Without breaking eye contact, Rich reached for his own cheeseburger, taking an outrageously large bite of it as a sarcastic response to Brooke’s insistence that he eat something. “There,” he replied, mouth still full. He swallowed before going back to his phone, rewinding the song back a few seconds. The fingers on his left hand work an imaginary fretboard as his right hand works on guitar strings that aren’t there. He just needs to get through the day, then he can go into the music room and figure it out with a real guitar.

While Brooke didn’t understand most boys, she did find herself proficient in the art of understanding Rich. She knew how to read him better than she knew how to read her other classmates. She admired him. She cared for him. Someone had to, after all. She used a paper napkin to wipe at the corner of his mouth where the food didn’t quite make it in. “Thank you.” She added with a small nod. She knew he’d get stuck in his music if she didn’t remind him to be a human being.

Rich pulled out one of his earbuds as Brooke approached. He was barely picking at his lunch, more preoccupied with what he was listening to on his phone. He had spent most of the day distracted by the guitar part of a song, and he was—fairly eager to get a chance to play it. He had tried when he was at his house but…his dad was home, and he didn’t like it when Rich practiced guitar in the house. 

“You gotta listen to this riff.” He held out the free earbud for Brooke almost the minute she sat down. It was basically the only thing getting him through the day, after all—he had done a presentation first block, and it hadn’t necessarily gone well.

Over the time Brooke had met and befriended Rich, she had grown accustomed to his behavior. She knew when to be his voice of reason and when to be a voice of support. The two were surviving the halls of high school together, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to look out for him when she could. She couldn’t fight his fights, but she sure as hell could be there for him in whatever way he needed.

She glanced briefly at his lunch before turning her gaze back up to him. “Only if you eat some more.” Brooke countered, taking a healthy bite out of her not-so-healthy cafeteria cheeseburger. Washing it down with her water, she offered a playful grin.

Honestly … Evan didn’t have an answer for that.

He wished he did. He wished he knew what to say to something like that. Knew how to respond to someone … just not being there. Leaving. Dying. Just being absent and leaving something missing.

He wished he could make thing any better for Brooke. 

Conner was important to her. She might not have been the friend he needed, but there had been a few bright spots. She saw him smile and relax. She saw the sad boy behind the mask he wore. She wished she did more for him. She wished she was better.