Fall Out Girl by L. Duarte Page B

freaking quote summarized my exact thoughts about life in general. One day we’re here, the next we aren’t. Why bother, then? Why are we such foolish, vain beings that we think the world of ourselves? None of it will matter anyway. Life is but a vapor in the wind.
    I wrote furiously. Like the muse possessed me. Unfortunately, after writing four hundred words, I was stuck. Yikes, so close, yet so far. Lying on my back with feet propped on the headboard, I tossed a stress ball against the wall. Again and again, it bounced back to me. What did Mrs. Price, our English teacher, want to accomplish, turn us into philosophers? Commendable, but in the end, it was all a waste.
    Then, a thought hit me like a brick, an Oprah’s “Aha Moment” if you will (I was getting good at those).
    I rolled back to my tummy; elbows propped on the mattress, and I scribbled the thoughts as fast as they came to mind.
    ‘“To be, or not to be: that is the question.” All in life: Every lesson we learn, every tear we drop, every possession we obtain, every beat of our hearts, every breath we inhale, all is moot, if we fail to first answer the question.’
    On that Saturday night my friends and foes, I officially became a Shakespeare devotee. Well, sort of.
    Relieved to have finished the abhorrent paper, I rolled on my back. It didn’t go unnoticed that I had admitted, in the privacy within the walls of my room, to be a “poet pusher.” Yep, my actions, and emotions were inhumanely volatile. They were as cyclic as the ocean tides.
    There was no way in hell I would venture out of my room, so I ignored the growls in my stomach. With my eyes closed, I reminisced about my encounter with Caleb. A tingling sensation spread across my lips. That kiss. That boy could kiss. My chest, reeling with conflicted emotions, tightened. Do I want him or not? Well, I knew the answer to the question. Of course, I wanted him. The real question was, should I give in to my most undesirable desire and have a relationship with Caleb? But at what price?
    When Caleb’s arms had been around me, my chest felt less hollow, and my soul was no longer as dreary. Could I survive such a vulnerable place? Since my father’s death, I had built a thick shell around me, around my emotions. With a flick of his fingers, Caleb had removed it and exposed me in a terrifying way.
    With those thoughts reeling in my mind, the husky voice of Tarry lulled me to sleep.
    I woke up with a jolt. It felt like someone had dropped a boulder on my bed. Fear surged through my body like rampant fire. I snapped my eyes open to see someone lying face down beside me. What the hell? But it was just Jake. He had a pungent odor of liquor and cigarettes and something else, a citrus vomit smell like.
    “He can’t find me on the yellow road,” he mumbled.
    “Jake, what are you doing?” I nudged him. Was he drunk?
    “Leave me alone,” he grumbled. “The moon, it’s not a moon, it’s Luna, that’s why the road is yellow. Don’t you fucking love it? It’s yellow.”
    “You smell weird. Open your eyes.” I tapped his shoulder. Yes, he was drunk as a skunk.
    He swatted my hand away. “I don’t like colors. They’re too freaky. I have to hide them.” He sat on the edge of the bed.
    The digital clock marked one thirty in the morning. I flicked the light on and looked at Jake. His pupils were dilated. “Jake, what’s going on?” He was more than drunk.
    “Jake are you… stoned?”
    “Fucking yeah,” he said with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’m crashing.”
    “No, no. Not you.” That was not happening.
    “Yo, you’re such a control freak. No big deal, really. I just want to chase the yellow away.” He looked at me with ever-present sadness in his face.
    “Don’t give me that.” I stood up. I pressed both my temples and paced the room. Unbelievable. He broke one of the cardinal rules. It was never a good idea to use drugs when you sold them.
    “I want to ride the white horse is all.