Chapter 4
Conin
Melissa lets herself in, as usual. I only knew she was here because I overheard her and my mom talking from the kitchen.
Mom arrived about a half hour ago. We interlocked in an entirely familiar conversation about Ezra, which resulted in an indistinguishable tired look in her eyes—the look she often gave my father after a heated argument or a belligerent rage, the reason he no longer lives here with us.
She said she’d talk to Rochelle about Ezra’s silence, but I’m not counting on it.
“Hi,” Melissa says and situates herself on my bed.
I’m at my desk, slaving away at this excessive amount of homework.
“Hi,” I reply.
Mom isn’t concerned about Melissa being a girl and hanging out with me in my room. We’re strictly platonic bros. It’s never been a problem, especially not while she’s dating Dan. Dan, however . . .
“Do you ever stop? You’re worse than I am,” Melissa whines. She chucks something at my head with surprisingly accurate precision. Well, I suppose her boyfriend is the star quarterback and captain of the football team.
“You made me this way,” I rebut.
She scoffs. I tab a page, then close the book.
We’re off to the living room where we start cycling through the movie options.
A cheesy, but comfortable Marvel movie is selected.
Melissa rolls her eyes, but she concedes because all the men are hot.
They are, but I won’t verbally agree. Mom passes the living room where Melissa and I sit in anything but silence.
Five minutes in and Melissa’s already complaining.
“Want to join us, Mom?” I ask.
She lingers behind the couch and studies the movie for a second. I don’t see her commit to the act, but I can practically feel her eyes roll.
“Thank you, sweetheart, but I think I’m going to get ready for bed,” she says and saunters off with a “good night.”
The movie ensues in its disorderly fashion. Melissa’s silent when she’s invested, but these moments are familiar and comfortable. When we arrive at a particular lull in the plot, I crane my head in her direction and notice her bored expression.
“Does Dan know you’re here?” I question.
“Nah,” she says, “he thinks I’m out with Emery. He’d flip if he knew you and I were hanging out. He’s still convinced you like me.”
“I do like you,” I joke, which elicits a playful slap to my deltoid. “It’s ridiculous though.”
“Such is the way of a heterosexual man, my not-so-straight friend. How’s Ezra, by the way?”
My shoulders tense as a hot, pricking heat flushes my cheeks. I don’t think Ezra is interested in anyone, which at one point or another made me believe he could be aroace. It’d be weird to try to hit on my best friend of fourteen years, though.
“Fine.”
“Just fine? When was the last time you talked with him?”
I ponder for a moment, reluctant to confide in her about this—the severity of Ezra’s situation. I could probably omit that part, though.
“A little while. He hasn’t responded to me.”
“Have you bothered checking on him at school or going around to his place?”
“I haven’t had the time,” I say with an immense amount of guilt pressuring my lungs.
“Sure,” she says, unfazed. “If only you would confess your feelings for him, then maybe—”
“Shut up!” I exclaim.
“Conin!” Mom calls from her bedroom.
I quiet down.
“I hate these movies. They feel so prevalent today,” Melissa says under her breath.
They do. The accords are like our registration policies and the Recidivism Act, or the mutants confined to a school due to the world treating them like freaks because of a trait that sets them apart from everyone else. Our world is downright cruel. And this movie? I find no enjoyment in it anymore.
I’m about to suggest we turn on something else when a knock comes from the door.