it's getting harder and harder to breathe
I was invited, but you never would have guessed it. Dick was off somewhere trying to score with a freshman and the Beav was probably already throwing up an hour into this whole thing (none of us ever expected him to hold his liquor well). Yeah, I was invited to this whole bash - the one Dick called the total blowout before things totally sucked ass and we had to go back to school again - but, seriously, I think he overestimated this little shindig.
It might have something to do with this summer and every single thing that's happened during it, but I sure as hell remembered parties were way cooler when people actually wanted you there. No one here did. That much was obvious.
Maybe being the kid of a movie-star-gone-wrong-murderer didn't exactly elevate my status (Gee, dad, OJ is so last decade), as neither did the fact that I'd been accused of murder myself this summer. Add in a dash of dating Veronica Mars and leaving everyone else behind and you've got a bona-fide outcast. I was crossed off the A-List, but I was still invited to the parties.
Yeah, it's actual days like these that I wish I'd driven my SUV off the bridge with me in it.
No one had actually said anything about it, but it's one of those things you can just see in their eyes. They don't trust you, they never have and they think the worse. I'll probably just let them. Who was I to prove them wrong? I knew this crowd. I had been this crowd. It was a wave of strangers with familiar faces - masked, so they can lie behind your back. It's fan-fucking-tastic to be popular.
There was a moment - maybe a second - where I hadn't felt alone. I had a girlfriend by my side - a support system, even if I didn't have Duncan as a best friend any longer. But let's face it, Veronica was there and she was gone. Seven minutes in heaven, over. The second she found a moment to run back to him, she did. There I was, on the sidelines, waiting. It's too fresh and still stings. It's going back to square one with nothing left again.
The one thing you can always rely on is that there is nothing and no one you can count on. If I've learned anything, it's that.
There were days that I hadn't even thought about leaving a party early unless I had some girl attached to me by the hip, but those days are far long gone. If I wanted to sit on a couch and drink alone I could have just as easily done that back at home. It would have canceled out this whole social disappointment that I knew was exactly how I'd been viewed tonight.
As I take my jacket from its bundled up place beside me, there's this jock that I recognize just barely from my school making some drunken mess over some girl who looks like she's having just as much fun as I am. I give a sort of roll of my eyes as I feel some splash over my cheek and arm.
"Dude, say it, don't spray it." I tell him, annoyed, wiping off my cheek with the sleeve of my shirt.
He's practically drooling on the girl which I can finally identify as Meg. Yeah, I'm sure there were other reasons she wasn't at all joyful, but I'd start with the scumbag other than the common feature we were sharing as castoffs.
"And here I thought that was your way, Echolls. Swimming with the grime."
I've heard it all summer. It was bearable with Veronica actually there, but there's this thing where they have even more leverage with the fact that she's not. The fact that she was the one to dump me sort of gives them all the firepower they'll ever need.
"Careful, man," I hear one of his nearby cronies say, "Get him to angry and he might commit murder again."
"Or just take off on that bridge like mommy dearest."
I shut my eyes tightly for a quick moment, wondering how much worse it would be if I just offed a few of them now. I punch the guy who makes the crack about my mother. I don't even care anymore. I'm just sick off it all. Everyone sort of gets their own punch in before we call it fair game (fair game leaving me with some sort of a nose bleed and knocking some lamp over with a crash). "Test me and I swear to god you'll find out," I warn him, wiping under my nose briefly before moving to grab my coat again and leave the party.
The cold air hits me hard. I have trouble inhaling. Yeah, next time they can skip the invitation completely.
It might have something to do with this summer and every single thing that's happened during it, but I sure as hell remembered parties were way cooler when people actually wanted you there. No one here did. That much was obvious.
Maybe being the kid of a movie-star-gone-wrong-murderer didn't exactly elevate my status (Gee, dad, OJ is so last decade), as neither did the fact that I'd been accused of murder myself this summer. Add in a dash of dating Veronica Mars and leaving everyone else behind and you've got a bona-fide outcast. I was crossed off the A-List, but I was still invited to the parties.
Yeah, it's actual days like these that I wish I'd driven my SUV off the bridge with me in it.
No one had actually said anything about it, but it's one of those things you can just see in their eyes. They don't trust you, they never have and they think the worse. I'll probably just let them. Who was I to prove them wrong? I knew this crowd. I had been this crowd. It was a wave of strangers with familiar faces - masked, so they can lie behind your back. It's fan-fucking-tastic to be popular.
There was a moment - maybe a second - where I hadn't felt alone. I had a girlfriend by my side - a support system, even if I didn't have Duncan as a best friend any longer. But let's face it, Veronica was there and she was gone. Seven minutes in heaven, over. The second she found a moment to run back to him, she did. There I was, on the sidelines, waiting. It's too fresh and still stings. It's going back to square one with nothing left again.
The one thing you can always rely on is that there is nothing and no one you can count on. If I've learned anything, it's that.
There were days that I hadn't even thought about leaving a party early unless I had some girl attached to me by the hip, but those days are far long gone. If I wanted to sit on a couch and drink alone I could have just as easily done that back at home. It would have canceled out this whole social disappointment that I knew was exactly how I'd been viewed tonight.
As I take my jacket from its bundled up place beside me, there's this jock that I recognize just barely from my school making some drunken mess over some girl who looks like she's having just as much fun as I am. I give a sort of roll of my eyes as I feel some splash over my cheek and arm.
"Dude, say it, don't spray it." I tell him, annoyed, wiping off my cheek with the sleeve of my shirt.
He's practically drooling on the girl which I can finally identify as Meg. Yeah, I'm sure there were other reasons she wasn't at all joyful, but I'd start with the scumbag other than the common feature we were sharing as castoffs.
"And here I thought that was your way, Echolls. Swimming with the grime."
I've heard it all summer. It was bearable with Veronica actually there, but there's this thing where they have even more leverage with the fact that she's not. The fact that she was the one to dump me sort of gives them all the firepower they'll ever need.
"Careful, man," I hear one of his nearby cronies say, "Get him to angry and he might commit murder again."
"Or just take off on that bridge like mommy dearest."
I shut my eyes tightly for a quick moment, wondering how much worse it would be if I just offed a few of them now. I punch the guy who makes the crack about my mother. I don't even care anymore. I'm just sick off it all. Everyone sort of gets their own punch in before we call it fair game (fair game leaving me with some sort of a nose bleed and knocking some lamp over with a crash). "Test me and I swear to god you'll find out," I warn him, wiping under my nose briefly before moving to grab my coat again and leave the party.
The cold air hits me hard. I have trouble inhaling. Yeah, next time they can skip the invitation completely.