#abbi needs help

As I walked up to her she asked me “How much have you missed me?”

 I replied, “How much does someone in the middle of a desert long for water?” 

I am not mentally prepared for this. 

She smiled and said “Well I missed you more than...” She looked around for a second trying to think of something only to laughed and give up on coming up with a different analogy. 

She said, “I missed you to a ridiculous extent too.” 

She pulled me in close and asked me another question, “Why haven’t you kissed me?” 

Because you aren’t officially dating?

Because you’ve known each other personally for a week and a half and this is probably just infatuation?

Who knows?

I smiled and replied “Well, you’ve kissed every part of my face outside my lips, so I supposed I should finally give something back.”

 Her eyes lit up and she gave me a huge smile.

Wrapping her hands around my neck, Abbi got up on her tiptoes as a pulled herself towards me.

I know it means she put her arms around his neck, but I’m just imagining Abbi asking him why he hasn’t kissed her, him saying that thing about her kissing his face, she smiles, and then just fucking chokes him.

Couple goals.

She gave me the softest kiss I had ever felt. A surge of electricity shot between us. It felt like she was melting into me, that we were, somehow, in that moment, becoming one.

I really hated reading that.

I’ve written kiss scenes. I enjoy writing kiss scenes, you can convey a lot of emotion through them. They can even aid character development. But this is just these characters kissing to kiss. They don’t have enough romantic tension for this to be any kind of satisfying, and I also feel nothing but apathetic annoyance towards them, which is troubling 

We continued to kiss as a tiny thought loomed in the side of my mind. I had passively noticed the wind around us ceasing in movement just after our lips connected, as if the moving air itself had to stop and soak in this moment. 

I don’t know how much more of this purple prose I can fucking take.

After quite a few minutes passed we began to walk home together.

The text doesn’t state that they stopped kissing, so I’m just picturing them hobbling along while still making out and I’m not sure whether to laugh, cry, or scream at that mental image.

Our walk took us longer than usual as we kept stopping at every other tree and building to kiss more.

I mean, horny teenagers will be horny teenagers.

She says, as if she isn’t nineteen and still a teenager.

 It was such an amazing feeling to be so important to someone, to be so loved.

I’m so tired of saying what you absolutely know I’m going to say, I feel like a goddamn broken record. 

As we approached Abbi’s home we could hear loud music being played inside, reverberating through the walls. He father burst out the door; I imagine he saw us through one of his dirt-stained windows.

Oh. I don’t tell me we’re doing this.

Not caring that everyone around was about to get dunked into a massive tank of his emotional instability he screamed, “Abbigale! Where have you been?”

 He clenched a beer in his hand as he breathed in the same way I’d expect an angry bull with spears dangling from their bleeding back to.

Of course. Of fucking course we’re doing this. It’s fucking trauma bingo with this girl. 

I am not discounting or discrediting any victims of abuse, I hope that any one of you who is a victim is able to get the help you need and deserve, but it’s absolutely disgusting to romanticize abuse like Onion is here. Abuse is not cute, and abuse victims aren’t cute little pets you can parade around and treat like something you rescued and fixed up. They’re not stray animals, they’re people, and they deserve to be treated with humanity and kindness instead of like an accessory to satiate your goddamn hero complex. 

Jesus Christ, I hate Gregory James Jackson. Or whatever the fuck he’s calling himself these days. 

His inhaling seemed nearly as loud as his speech as he continued. “You got some damn chores to do! And I’m sick of you coming home late every other night!”

She— She isn’t late? She just got home, school probably just ended. I’m not really sure, I wasn’t cleared on what time of day it is currently in the book.

Abbi and I both knew most every time she was late, it was because she was sitting outside her house refusing to go in until she could determine whether or not her father was in a stable enough state to be around.

So her father is such a fucking NPC that he never thought to look out the window or open the fucking door or go look for his daughter? Nevermind, we already knew that Onion is a terrible writer

Abbi was squeezing my arm tightly as he continued to yell, “You think I won’t abandon you just like your mother you little ungrateful brat? I raised you to show zero respect for me? Is that how I raised you?” 

Cars continued to pass by, unresponsive to her father’s outbursts. 

Maybe I’m just intensely midwestern, but I find it somewhat unusual that nobody would stop to help someone clearly being abused. 

I mean, personally, I would stop, let her hide out in my car, let her use my phone to call the police, etc. I dunno, I guess that’s just me.

Her father continued to scream seeming completely delusional and detached from the world around him. At that point I wasn’t sure if it was more who he was or what he was using that made him become the monster he was. 

And here we see Onion spewing his usual nonsense about how alcohol very bad.

And while I can’t argue that substance abuse is a horrible, horrible thing, people can drink socially and not be alcoholics. Alcohol isn’t evil, Onion, but misuse of it does bring out the evil in people. The same goes with drugs. Greg has the habit of demonizing mental illness and addiction, and it’s disgusting. 

I find characters like this to be trite and unnecessary. He’s here to be, in the words of Strange AEons, Bad Guy McBad, further demonizing a problem a lot of people have and are actively trying to fix. Addiction is often times a very scary and tragic thing, and portraying only the scary big mean man stereotype is damaging. It’s why people look down their noses at addicts, even if they’re trying to get clean.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, let’s move on.

Anyway, James is doing nothing to stop this, like, speak up, maybe? 

After a short while of his outburst I could see in the corner of my eye a police officer approach on foot. The officer, likely having seen this kind of behavior on a daily basis, now stood quietly in the distance with his work dog, just as silent as his master, looking on as well.

I— Okay. 

Fuck you, I guess.

Her father continued to rant and throw objects lying outside at his own house, “Are you going to answer me? Are you going to say anything? Am I gonna have to drag you inside this house to get a response out of you?”

This cop is just— not doing anything in a clear domestic dispute? He could get suspended for that.

Also, why the fuck is he there? Did someone call him? If so, why? And why is he just fucking standing on a street corner with a dog, not doing anything? 

After throwing a couple more rocks and bottles at his house he began to dance mockingly, 

Wait he was throwing these things at his own house? I thought he was throwing them at Abbi. What possible reason would he have to cause property damage to his own property?

We’re just gonna gloss right over the dancing thing, I’m not really sure how to react to that. 

“Because this whole world doesn’t give a damn about you Abbigale! I could knock you right out and not a soul would care. 

I mean, James would probably care, even if he’s standing there like a Skyrim NPC.

Also the cop would probably care if you fucking assaulted her. Have fun in jain, dumbass. Verbal threats like that are enough to get you arrested.

No one cares about you but me! You disrespect me?” 

This is the most canned tirade of insults I have ever read. I could close my eyes and type something more cutting than this. 

I opened my mouth to argue in her defense but Abbi pulled on my arm, physically insisting I stay silent.

That’s somewhat a realistic response, I suppose, if Abbi is worried her father will hurt James, but in reality it’s probably Onion wanting the abuse to go further so James can play the big hero. 

Her father saw my mouth move and exploded on me, quickly shortening the distance between us as he spoke “What is it you punk? 

What? That doesn’t make any—

Oh. Onion didn’t put a comma before ‘you punk,’ so it didn’t sound right when I read that in my head. 

Also, I’ve been so used to wearing masks that I about typed ‘how could he see that through his mask?’ But then I remembered we haven’t always been living under the thumb of pestilence.

What do you have to say? Do you know what she is? 

What, is she secretly a werewolf or something? That would make this book about a million times more interesting. 

Do you even know the first thing about this freak?” 

I’d imagine he’d know enough to know she doesn’t deserve abuse. Nobody does, even shitty book characters.

He violently shifted towards Abbi and began stumbling and reaching for her. Sounding deranged, he said “I’m gonna drag you in by your little rat tail Abbigale!”

I hope he’s just calling her a rat and not implying that she has a rat tail, because that would be criminal. I just imagine her with an early 2000′s emo haircut and I will continue to imagine her that way, thank you very much.

I quickly stepped in front of her. In complete shock, her father impulsively swung his beer at me; it collided with the side of my skull causing blood to pour out from underneath my hair. 

I’m sorry, I know that’s bad, and James probably got a head injury from that, but the way it was described makes it seem like James’ hair is separate from his body. The description makes me think of how like, in cartoons when someone takes off a hat after getting drenched and a waterfall comes pouring out. I couldn’t find a gif, but I’m like, 99.9% sure that happened in several cartoons I saw as a kid. 

So I’m picturing James doing that, but with his hair, and instead of water, it’s blood. It’s a bit more morbid, but a silly mental image nonetheless. 

I remained standing but had trouble seeing, all I could hear was a deep grumbling tone accompanied by an irritating but subtle ringing.

That’s probably not good.

I looked up slowly to see, with my blurred vision, 

Looked up from what? Did he collapse? I wasn’t informed of that.

the police dog dragging Abbi’s dad away by his arm. From what I could make out the cop had no interest in calling the dog off. It was as if he enjoyed seeing people who commit unprovoked violence suffer an even greater opposing force as everyone knew it was over the moment the dog latched.

Run on sentence aside, I think I empathize with the cop here. As big of a softie as I am, I do enjoy seeing scumbags like Abbi’s dad get their comeuppance. 

It had barely taken any time for Abbi to remove her jacket and press the soft interior against the side of my head. I could see her father’s condition was not at all on her mind, she had chosen me, like I had chosen her, over not just one person or another but everyone.

That feels unhealthy.

30 minutes passed, and Abbi and I were both sitting on the ground as her father sat in the back of the K-9 SUV now parked in front of Abbi’s house. 

I’m not an expert on police procedures, though I am fairly knowledgeable regarding them. My knowledge is lacking, however, when it comes to K-9 units. According to Google, though, K-9 officers and their dogs often patrol places like airports, harbors, and borders, and they also complete searches of schools, prisons, vehicles, etc. The part about searches is common knowledge, though, and I already knew about that. With the amount of true crime I watch, that’s a given.

However, I don’t think K-9 units are just called to stand on street corners. That just doesn’t seem like a thing that happens.

The patrolman was waiting for an ambulance, emotionless. 

Aren’t police supposed to do traffic control? Call for backup? Comfort/question the witness/victim? A crime was committed here. They need Abbi and James’ statements. 

He shouldn’t just be standing there like an NPC.

I knew it would be gullible of me to assume he had never seen anything like this; in fact it was probably a daily occurrence. 

I mean, I don’t think he’d be totally detached from a tragic situation like this. 

Everyone gets numb to routine no matter how dramatic or strange. This officer had a look like he had seen this day come and go a hundred times before. Abbi’s father was just another drunk, just another evolved ape throwing his life away.

Yes, but it’s his fucking job to arrest creeps like Abbi’s dad, and if he doesn’t treat the case with care he could get suspended. 

When the ambulance arrived the patrolmen asked me if I wanted to press charges, 

So let me get this straight.

Patrolman means cop. So the cop already there arrested Abbi’s father, put him in his car, and then just… stood there until the ambulance arrived. After that, a separate patrolman asked James if he wanted to press charges, instead of the arresting officer?

Or alternatively, if I read that wrong, and I very well may have due to how confusing these descriptions are, the cop arrested the father and stood in one spot without saying anything until the ambulance arrived, waiting until another policeman showed up to ask James if he wanted to press charges. Like, he needed a second person with him to ask that question for some indiscernible, arbitrary reason.

Neither of those make sense, but then again, nothing does in this bastardization of the English language in disguise of a book.

I wasn’t sure what to do until Abbi quickly leaned towards my ear, telling me that if I didn’t, it would mean he could take out whatever anger he had on her after everyone had left, as he remained her legal guardian. Without further thought I made my choice and took the action that was in the best interest of her safety.

I mean, yeah, Abbi has a point, but also, if he was actively abusing her, in front of a fucking cop, no less, wouldn’t it be protocol to call Child Protective Services? I’m under the impression that Abbi is seventeen, therefore she’s still a minor, therefore a child in the eyes of the law. I was never in any situations similar to this, so I’m not really sure what would happen to someone who was a year from turning eighteen, but I’d imagine she’d be sent to a foster home until she did turn eighteen, if she had no other family she could stay with in the meantime. She’s still a dependent, and the law would treat her as such. 

The officer asked Abbi if she wanted to have assistance with her living situation while they dealt with her father, she replied that she would stay with me.

I— Is that allowed?

I don’t think that’s allowed. James isn’t an adult, either, he said earlier that he’s seventeen. Is his family still in their apartment or did they already move in with James’ mom’s boyfriend? If they are, fine, if his mom allows it, but if they aren’t, I don’t think that’s a thing that would happen.

“Are you sure about that? Kid’s going to need some stitches, might be a little groggy for a few days with that head injury.” 

Put him in a fucking hospital, you moron, he might be concussed. Head injuries are no joke.

She replied, “It may as well have been me, and that’s all the more reason for me to stay with him. I’m not going anywhere.” 

If this is an elaborate excuse to get them in a bed together I will lose my marbles. 

He nodded as the ambulance pulled up, briefing the driver, he then ensured he had everything he needed to process his paperwork, and left the area with Abbi’s father in custody.

Isn’t paperwork done at the station after the suspect is taken in? You don’t just process the arrest on site, as far as I know. Also, I assume he was read his Miranda rights, but that wasn’t discussed, so who the fuck even knows anymore.

The ambulance workers stitched me up then and there. While they were finishing up, Abbi called us a taxi, which shortly after returned us to my home.

Excuse me? 

No. James would need to be taken into the hospital. If he’s groggy like that, he might have a concussion, and he needs to be observed. You don’t just slap a bandage on someone who just got a head injury and send them home. All of these people should be fired. 

Abbi and I rested on my bed covers still wearing our shoes and everything. My mind was too distracted by what had happened when we came in to worry about dirty blankets. Breaking the silence Abbi said, “You’re the most loving and selfless person I’ve ever known.” 

I am so tired of James and how everyone worships him for doing nothing. He got whacked in the head and did nothing to protect Abbi beyond moving in front of her. He said nothing when she was being verbally abused, and just generally acted like the cardboard cutout he is. 

I still felt conflicted about so many things outside Abbi but I didn’t want to ruin her compliment so I replied “But you forgot to include yourself, Abbi.”

 She smiled doubtfully. I stared into her eyes, and she tried to look back, but was struggling with emotions rapidly overtaking her. 

She began tearing up and said, “Well James, whatever love I have, it’s all for you.” 

This is—

I could get into how absurd this is, and the psychology regarding abuse victims latching onto people who are kind to them as a survival method, but I’m way too tired for that.

Tears began to fall down her face, “I love you too,” I said. 

She started crying and pulled herself tightly against me. “I love you,” she whispered under her breath continuing to cry.

Together, we drifted gently into a warm sleep.

Uh. Okay. So that was a weird and wild ride. I hated it. It was probably supposed to be romantic, but it was just a lot of savior complex shit mixed with trauma bingo and so many clichés it’s making my head hurt. It was a cookie cutter piece of prose that exists in a million wattpad books, and even those manage to do it better than this drivel. 

It was also an elaborate way to get Abbi into James’ bed, and that’s stupid and trite and unoriginal and everything in between. It was also totally insensitive and poorly researched. Those cops and EMTs need to be fired, a trained poodle could do better than that. The total lack of procedure or research of any kind, while unsurprising, was still baffling to me. 

God, this book is aggressively stupid. 

I’ll see you next time. 

My mom responded, “Go ahead and sit down James.”

I slid out the old-fashioned second-hand store chair I always sat in at the table and waited for my mom to explain.

I don’t give a shit where you bought the chair or what style it is. Just say chair. Those details are unnecessary.

“This is Rick, the reason you haven’t seen much of him is because he lives on the other side of the mountains all the way in Spokane,” my mom said.

I smiled feeling slightly awkward and replied, “Oh, alright, cool.”

My sister immediately mocked me “Oh, cool mom duh! You’re such a dweeb James.”

There was no point in being that rude, Lisa.

Despite her bratty insult, I could see she too felt awkward about Rick being so spontaneously introduced to us and was just trying to distract.

Yeah, I agree, this is strange.

“Rick and I have been dating for quite a few months now and are starting to become quite serious” my mom said, clearly seeking our approval.

Rick added “So yeah, it’s really cool to finally meet you, your mom talks a lot about you”.

This...

This is the first this woman is telling her kids of this? She hasn’t told them she’s going to probably Spokane or somewhere in between for dates? They just don’t question it? This is bullshit.

I smiled and nodded while thinking about how odd it was my mom had never mentioned him.

Yeah, good to know I’m not the only one who thinks this is weird.

Rick proceeded to tell us stories about him hunting animals, his upper-level position at a construction company based out of Spokane and continued to remind us how happy he was to be meeting us. As far as I could see he wasn’t a bad guy but as usual, I didn’t expect much knowing most everyone puts on their friendliest mask for first impressions. I’m sure my sister was thinking pretty much the same thing I was, he wasn’t my mom’s first post-dad boyfriend.

My mom inquired, “So how’s your life going James?”

I replied “Fine.”

Rick asked, “Got a girlfriend?” I didn’t respond.

Why in the fresh hell is this the topic of conversation?

I just kept my head down, looking at my plate. My mom looked at me with a proud smile, “James is more of the mysterious type Rick, he doesn’t talk about his relationships.”

Oh, give me a goddamn break.

Rick then said “Oh yeah? Well if you find a lady half as good as your mom, I’d say you’re set.”

My sister interrupted “Aren’t you seeing that messed up emo chick James?”

There is no point in being that rude.

Looking over at my sister with a blank face I said, “Aren’t you seeing every guy at school Lisa?”

Oh my god. Why are you slut-shaming your sister?

Lisa looked horrified and my mom responded “James!”

Not knowing what else to say. Rick was the only one still smiling at the table at that point. Moderately upset by what Lisa said I asked to be excused and went to bed.

As I climbed on the bus the next day Davis hollered “Praise be to James! Our hero has arrived” I smiled as I always did. I hated loving his hilarious lines;

They aren’t hilarious. They’re just... Annoying.

they were kind of a tradition for Davis. Every time I stepped on the bus, he would yell them. Even when I wanted to be upset he always found a way past the walls I had built, knowing exactly what to say every time.

As I sat next to him he said, “I’ve been missing your face a lot Mr. James, I’m trying to figure out ways to compete with your skates.”

Compete?

What?

I smiled and said “You’re one of the only reasons I ride the bus Davis, you’re doing just fine.”

Davis then jumped up and yelled, “You hear that everyone, my best buddy thinks I’m pretty fantastic!”

I laughed, wishing to myself I had more friends like him.

Davis makes me want to die.

Also, that interaction was very stale, but moving on.

As I approached my history class, I could see Mr. Hanson waiting in the hall. I tried to walk by him unnoticed but he said, “Not so fast, you need to go see the guidance counselor.”

???

I asked why and he replied, “It’s about that fight you got in. Ms. Robertson is waiting.”

Okay fair.

I proceeded to the office where there was a line of three people ahead of me.

That isn’t a big line, bro.

It wasn’t due to bad scheduling, Ms. Robertson was just outmatched by the school population and considering she was the only person most students knew to get free condoms and/or advice from she was regularly seeing visitors.

Why does she give out condoms and not the nurse?

“James Patrick!” she said aggressively as I approached the old wood and glass door. I smiled out of politeness as she turned to the others and tossed a bundle of condoms in their direction.

“These are a last resort, abstinence first!” she said as she stood by the door waiting for me to enter.

One of the boys standing at the door said “I actually need advi...” but she slammed the door before he could finish speaking.

Okay. Don’t do your job I guess.

“Have a seat James,” she said. I sat down and the room filled with a few awkward seconds of silence.

She continued, “So it looks to me that you’re healing up ok.”

I replied confirming I was fine.

She then said “I’ve heard both sides of the story and have concluded that your friend Jason is destined for not so great things if he keeps up his attitude.”

My face remained still, emotionless really. I just sat silently listening. She asked, “What direction do you want to go with your future?”

I replied, “I’ve heard really great things about up.” It was like my joke hit a brick wall.

She seemed only sarcastically amused and continued speaking, “But seriously, I was told you turned down a TA position which I personally recommended to Mr. Hanson.”

I replied, “I just wanted to stay in art class.”

She replied “With Mrs. Stanley?”

I nodded and she laughed. “So who’s the girl?” she asked.

I was surprised that she concluded so quickly it was even about a girl. But then again I was just one of thousands of students, we like to think romance is unique, but we’re most all playing the same game.

Shut your mouth.

Also, I hate how Onion is trying so hard to make this a John Green novel.

It isn’t working.

Ms. Robertson had years dealing with people like me, no wonder she could see right through me.

For a brief moment, Ms. Robertson nearly spoke my mind, she said with a smirk, “Oh come on, lots of us like to think we’re special but that just of shows you how we really aren’t. Especially the brats walking these halls.”

Knowing Ms. Robertson had to keep our conversations private, I replied, “There’s this girl... Abbi. I really like her, and it’s the only class I have with her.”

Ms. Robertson was no longer smirking now that I told her who I was interested in. She sat up and looked down at her desk.

Oh no.

She moved some items around and stopped suddenly, she then looked me in the eyes and said  “Listen to me carefully, I can’t tell you anything about Abbi but I can give you advice, think twice about getting involved with her. I want to see you succeed and some people being a significant part of your life can make that difficult for you.”

I didn’t say anything, in that moment I was lost in thought wondering why she would become so serious over Abbi.

This should be good.

Ms. Robertson then asked, “So, I’m not going to try and change your heart, in my experience that’s more often than not a lost cause, but I can change your schedule to something that fits. Abbi has PE during third period, how about you just stick with Mr. Hanson after your first class of the day. Doing so will replace your art class, and your third period will now be PE, where you can see your precious Abbi.”

It said she asked, but nothing in that paragraph was a question.

While her attitude towards Abbi continued to concern me, I also was curious as to why both Ms. Robertson and Mr. Hanson were so adamant about having me be a TA, but I was grateful they were at least trying to work with me regarding my preferences, so I accepted the schedule change.

It’s so bizarre to me that Ms. Robertson told James to stay away from Abbi and then helped him rearrange his schedule to have more classes with her.

I returned to Mr. Hanson’s class and requested I attend art class one last time before the schedule change. Mr. Hanson agreed and I made my way over to the art trailer once more. As I walked in the trailer door I was happy to see Abbi once again sitting in the same seat she always did.

When I approached her to sit down she pulled out my backpack and shook it, “You’re backpack has a lot of interesting things in it.”

I replied “Oh really, you went through it?”

That’s really weird.

She responded “Yep! And by interesting things I mean nothing, just school junk.” I laughed and asked “Life’s got enough burdens for us to carry, why add physical weight?”

Oh my god my eyes are glazing the fuck over.

She raised her eyebrows and said “Ok smarty, did you like our bear?”

I smiled and replied, “I love it!” She threw her arms up and hugged me.

Why?

Physical contact?

Mrs. Stanley walked in, immediately seeing our hug and said, “If you’re going to suck or eat go find an alleyway. This is a trailer we have god damn dignity!”

s this...

A reference to oral sex?

It’s so poorly executed that I literally just thought of food and was confused.

Not knowing how to react, I looked over at Abbi silently mouthing “Oh my god” to me.

I smiled and sat down with Abbi. Alex walked in the room and gave me a glare, probably because his art partner was still suspended for the fight we had, which meant he had to do it alone. I tried to ignore Alex, all I could think of is that pee jar when I looked at him which still freaked me out.

I hate that that’s what you associate this douchebag with. Or that that is a part of this stupid book.

As class came to a close we gathered our things and began to walk out. “Bye Mrs. Stanley I’ll miss you.” Mrs. Stanley responded calling me the F word,

in her natural offensive fashion and gave the class an awkward, semi-shocked laugh.

Walking outside, Abbi asked, “Why do you think Mrs. Stanley still has a job?”

I replied “Pretty sure everyone feels they’ll guarantee themselves an eternity of torment in the afterlife if they were to fire someone as old as her.”

Abbi replied “Yeah, I guess it would be hard getting a job when you’re resume lists World War I nurse in your work history.”

:/

I laughed so hard I had to stop till I could control it, “Are you ok?” Abbi asked with a nervous smile on her face.

Still laughing, I said “Sorry, sorry.” and continued walking as Abbi looked at me, bewildered by how funny I thought she was. My reaction wasn’t really just about what she said, but the fact that she said it to me. I felt so important and excited when she gave me her attention.

I hate everything.

As we got closer to the gym Abbi was giving me a funny look, as I normally didn’t walk her that far, I said, “Don’t worry, I’m not stalking you, we have the same class now.”

She replied, “Manipulating your schedule to be with someone sounds like stalking Mr. Patrick.”

I said, “Not if you drop Mrs. Stanley.”

She pushed me playfully saying “Jealous!”

???

Jealous about what?

The boys split off to dress in their locker room and the girls did the same. I didn’t have gym clothes with me yet so I just sat down at the bleachers and waited for everyone else to get done putting on their uniforms.

It’s a thing at my school that if you don’t have gym clothes you will be provided with some, but maybe that’s just me.

A deep voice sounded off “What are you doing here kid?” I looked over to see a very tall man in the baggiest gym suit I’d ever seen.

“Hi, I’m James Patrick, I think I have your class now. You can clear it with Ms. Robertson.”

He smiled and said, “Well James Patrick, I’m your gym teacher Mr. Mack.”

I nodded and smiled as he bluntly asked, “You’re that kid who got beat up by Jason?”

I hate having to format this fucking story just to make it easier to read.

Onion, learn to format your own work.

I replied, “Yeah I pushed him after he pushed me and then he started throwing punches.”

He smiled and said “Well, that’s my nephew for you.”

Yikes.

I froze up and blankly stared at Mr. Mack as his words sank in. I swear I could feel my heart skip when I acknowledged his connection to Jason. Seeing the look on my face Mr. Mack continued

“Don’t worry, between you and me, kid’s a prick. Just like his dad.” Mr. Mack chuckled and walked away.

Also, another thing, Onion thinks that if you write a word that might extend onto the next page, you have to write a hyphen in the middle of the word to make it fit. While this is sometimes the case, it’s usually fine unless the word when put onto a new line leaves a large dent in the side of the paragraph. When this isn’t so, it’s just annoying to read.

I felt relief and awkwardly smiled only to see Abbi in the corner of my eye bursting out of the girls’ locker room. She was in her PT uniform

You said you needed gym clothes, but whatever, be inconsistent. Also, that says ‘PT’ uniform, not PE. Did Onion even edit this at all?

and carried a beautiful smile on her face. Running over to me, Abbi sat down and gave me a big hug.

“I’m so glad you’re still in a class with me,” she said. The gym shirt was hiked up her arms so I could feel her skin connect with my neck. The sensation was glorious.

Why... Why?

They’re arms.

My face was beaming from feeling her warmth around me.

I replied, “You will be the one reason I look forward to gym.”

Mr. Mack overheard and interrupted as he stood a short distance away “Hey kid, and I thought we were becoming friends!”

I laughed awkwardly feeling a little weird about him eavesdropping. But then again, it’s much easier to close your eyes than it is to turn off your ears.

Yikes.

Everyone gathered on the gym floor, excluding me. Mr. Mack immediately noticed I was not participating and said “Hey, if you don’t have gear, go in my office and pick out an outfit.”

Like I said earlier, clothes will be provided for you.

I reluctantly got up and walked over to his office where all I realized I would have to sift through a huge pile of mismatching jerseys and sweatpants to get a half-decent outfit.

After changing in the bathroom I walked out to everyone taking part in dodge ball. I could feel the focus of the room shift on my outfit and, just as I expected, I was greeted with laughter.

And it doesn’t tell me what that looks like, so I’m just imagining a metallic 1980′s tracksuit.

“Hey, at least you won’t get your normal clothes sweaty from dodge ball!” Mr. Mack said tossing me a ball as the game was already in play.

Before I could even catch it, Raymon, one of the jocks in the class, smacked me in the side of the head.

Raymon is out.

That’s also not a name I have ever heard of. So there’s that.

Everyone but a few people bust out laughing again as Mr. Mack lurched up and pointed at Raymon screaming

“You’re out Raymon, can’t hit above the shoulders!” Raymon replied with a discouraged snap of his fingers, scowling as he sat on the sidelines.

I’m just imagining him like.

‘aw darn!’

Because nobody snaps their fucking fingers in discouragement unless they’re joking.

It was odd how he broke the rules and hit another person in the head yet pretended to be the victim.

He didn’t pretend to be the victim, though.

I never really understood the human tendency to feel sorry for yourself when you’re being punished for breaking rules you were well aware of.

Oh, because you’re so high and mighty.

Abbi was on my team and we were down to just a few people, I very quickly found out I was quite good at the game, better than I thought at least. I kind of used Abbi as my motivation to do well.

A girl you’ve spoken to only this week. And to add to this, you can count the number of times you’ve spoken to her on one hand.

I imagine it was some kind of evolutionary thing, a man trying to impress his mate with physical performances to demonstrate his superiority over other members of the tribe.

That gif is the only one I can use to express how much that line alone pisses me the fuck off.

That is so sexist?

Primitive?

It’s creepy?

It’s really fucking weird?

Like, Onion, honestly, what the fuck was going through your head that made you think it was a good idea to write that shit? ‘Evolutionary thing’ my ass, if I liked a girl or a guy I’d also want to impress them.

You aren’t special and neither is your shitty pretentious main character.

Okay, moving on.

I kept catching every other ball thrown at me only to return it, hitting a student approximately one out of every three attempts.

‘Approximately.’

Stop trying to make yourself impressive.

I always threw low to decrease the chance of anyone catching my ball. After a while my consistent efforts paid off, our entire team was back in play. Raymon had made his way back in the game on their side but only a small nerdy kid remained in play with him. Raymon would try to catch what we threw but was always a few inches short of reaching the ball as it flew by. A ball smacked the nerdy kid in his ankles and only Raymon was left. He tried to throw a ball at my head again but this time I was ready. Just as the ball flew past me every person with a ball on my side threw theirs at him. In an almost comedic fashion every other ball impacted his chest and below. We were all cracking up over it but Mr. Mack interrupted us letting us know class was over.

Okay so that was hard to imagine as a sequence of events.

Before Abbi ran back to the locker room, she walked up to me and said “Can you call me tonight?” I nodded smiling and she kissed me on the cheek. My mind exploded with excitement. From that single kiss on my cheek my whole body felt light and warm the rest of the day.

After doing my chores later that night I called Abbi like she asked and she answered “Hey you!”

I want to die.

I replied “Not a lot of callers huh?”

She said “Actually I just embarrassed myself on the last call hoping it was you. My grandma felt pretty special for about ten seconds.”

Okay, so there’s another thing I have to keep fixing. When you write dialogue, you put the period at the end of the sentence inside the quotations. Onion keeps putting it outside and it’s driving me crazy.

Also these jokes just make me want to die even more than I already do.

She and I talked for hours; we discussed the plausible absurdity of horoscopes, “The Secret,” the legitimacy of souls, the afterlife and even leprechauns. Very few topics were off-limits.

Wow, you’re making yourself even more pretentious.

Being free to talk about whatever was on my mind felt liberating. Having these conversations with her served as just another reminder that there was someone out there who could really understand me with just as much kindness and acceptance as I did them.

YOU HAVE KNOWN EACH OTHER PERSONALLY FOR LESS THAN A GODDAMN WEEK.

STOP.

Before I hung up I said “Abbi, thank you for making my imperfect life feel perfect.”

FUCK YOU.

She laughed at how cheesy the line was only to respond, “Well thank you for being so perfectly imperfect.” I felt a warm smile come across my face and said goodnight.

This whole romance between James and Abbi is really unrealistic and corny and forced.

But the chapter is over, so whatever. I’ll see you guys next time.