I stared at the phone screen. My dad never called me without a reason, so I knew I had to answer his call. My dad never really had any reasons to call me, so he didn’t. I felt somewhat happy, but I also felt the neglect of a dad who seemed to care more about his work than his own son.
I told Easton that it was a serious phone call. Easton nodded his head and stepped out of his apartment. I was planning on leaving to take the call, but I guess Easton leaving works too.
I answered the phone.
“Greyson I want you to come home right away.”
“Don’t take long.”
He hung up. No ‘I love you’, he talked to me like we were strangers. I wanted to smash the stupid phone, yet I couldn’t stop smiling.
I left Easton’s apartment.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yeah, my dad’s home and wants me to see him right away.”
We said our goodbyes and I left. When I opened the front door of my house, my dad was standing right there. My dad was tall and had a stalky body build. It’s rather easy to be intimidated by him.
“Hey dad…” He only stared at me with this disapproving look on his face. He didn’t speak until maybe a minute or two.
“What were you doing at a friend’s house at eleven at night?”
I didn’t say anything. There’s nothing in particular that Easton and I do. We just find random ways to waste time. Neither of us are the type to enjoy being around large groups of people, so we just sit in his apartment.
Basically, Easton and I do nothing. I wouldn’t tell my dad that, because saying that ‘we were doing nothing’ makes it sound like we were doing something. For all my dad knows, I could’ve been with a girl.
He didn’t seem to care that I didn’t answer his question. He just nodded and moved on.
“The school called.” Oh boy, that can’t be good. I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.
“They said that you have been getting kicked out of one of your classes every day. Greyson, I want to know why this is happening.”
I stayed silent. I know my reasons would sound stupid. I knew he would disapprove. I thought about lying to him, but I can never lie to him without feeling awful. I only see him a few times a month. When I think of spending that little time lying to him, it upsets me.
“Greyson, I won’t take silence for an answer.” A minute or two passed until I cracked.
“Dad, the teacher has this disgusting voice, it’s like nails on a chalkboard, and all she does is talk all class! Then she gets mad at me for not listening to her nails on a chalkboard, so she asks me some random question, but I get it right, and…and…and…”
“Why are you getting kicked out of class?”
I realized I never even mentioned how I got kicked out of class. I don’t usually ramble on like that. I think it’s a nervous thing.
“After I answer the teacher’s question, I kind of mouth-off to her.” My dad let out a sigh of tiredness.
“And why would you do that.” Crap. Why do I mouth off to Miss Vandermen?
“Because her and her smart-allic comments piss me off, and then I end up saying something back…”
My dad nodded his head, meaning our conversation was coming to an end.
“I don’t want to hear anything about you getting kicked out of class again, and no more late nights at friend’s houses.”
I nodded my head in agreement and walked to my room. I yelled goodnight to my dad. He said goodnight from some room in the house.
While I laid in bed, under my covers, I found it hard to sleep. I felt like I should be mad at my dad for just dropping by for the first time in four weeks, and do nothing but give me restrictions. But I felt nothing of the kind.
I was actually pretty happy. Giving restrictions is something that the average parent does. It’s when he comes home, that I actually feel like a kid, and not an adult all on their own. Once a month I was able to feel like my dad really was my dad.
I began thinking of memories with my mom. My dad has always worked the way he does now, so it was my mom who was always home to take care of me. But she died years ago. I don’t think my dad really changed at all. It’s as if he never even needed her.
I soon fell asleep. Like I said before, nostalgia is a great remedy for sleep.
I went a week without getting kicked out of Miss Vandermen’s class. I somewhat miss getting kicked out of the classroom. It was pretty fun talking to Class Rep as we walked to the security office.
It’s also been an entire week of not going over to Easton’s apartment. I wonder how bored Gages has been without me there at ASD. I’m sure Mr. Muller is relieved.
It was Monday, the beginning of –hopefully- my second week without getting kicked out of class. When Miss Vandermen’s class ended, I exited as quickly as I could. I still hated that class. Well, I loved the class, but I hated the teacher.
When I got into the hallway I looked out the window. There was that girl again. I’ve grown used to seeing her through the window now. I’m still curious of what she’s doing out there. A few times I considered going out there to ask her, but that could get me late or kicked out of my next class and right now I can’t risk that.
My other classes passed quickly. Soon it was time for lunch. I sat in my usual spot in the courtyard. Easton soon took a seat next to me.
“Do you have time to stay after school?” Easton asked
“Ugh this sucks”
“It’s not like we do anything there anyway”
“I know, but still”
“Aw, is little Easton gonna miss Grey?” I said jokingly
“No way, Stupid”
I laughed. Easton was trying not to smile. We talked about nothing in particular. He never asked about why I haven’t been coming over. He probably already assumed why. Easton and I share a similar life style.
We both live on our own. Neither of us are really cut out for school; always getting kicked out and not fitting in. I don’t know much about Easton’s past, and he doesn’t know much about mine. Maybe one day we’ll share our misfortunes with each other.
Lunch ended and Easton and I took our separate ways. Only a few more classes to go. I felt refreshed from being outside. I hate being inside the stupid school building.
When I got home my dad was making dinner. He welcomed me home like a normal dad would. It was nice.
I had nothing to really do, so I started playing the one gaming system that I still owned. A Nintendo 64. The thing was crazy old. It only plays Nintendo games –obviously-, and because of its age, the games for are really old too.
I started playing Majora’s Mask, because that’s like the best Zelda game out there. It’s pretty hard and it has certain puzzles that you actually need to use your brain in order to figure them out; not to mention its fairly creepy and dark atmosphere.
I used to have every single gaming system out there, but my dad made me trash them because I wasn’t behaving in school. Being someone who is incredibly dedicated to their work, my dad makes a good amount of money.
My dad called me for dinner. He made pasta with “salad” on the side. When I took a bite I noticed how it tasted like Bertolli’s frozen pasta meal. I know because that’s what I usually buy when dad’s not here.
“Why does this taste like Bertolli’s frozen pasta?” He let out a sigh.
“I’m a businessman, not a cook.” I think he meant what he said in a joking manner since he was smiling. He’s usually serious, so it’s hard to tell when he’s actually joking or just being rude.
Even if my dad didn’t actually make our dinner, it tasted just fine. I thanked him for “making” the meal and went off to my room.
When I went back to my room I started Majora’s Mask from where I paused it. I was in the center of town to the flower launcher to trade the Moon Tear to the Deku for a Land Title Deed. After the trade, the Deku will fly away and I will be able to use the Flower Launcher to shoot myself into the air and glide over to the clocktower to find a heart piece.
I finished the game around three in the morning. I went to sleep quickly after. Nostalgia did not occur that night. I was too tired to bother.
Easton has stuck in the trashcan. It was fairly empty, and he’s in an awkward position. His feet and hands hang over the trashcan, but the rest of him was stuck in there. I saw the trash move back and forth.
“Get me out of here!” Greg looked down at the flight of stairs. They swirled and went all the way down first floor. This was the fourth floor. The trashcan Easton was in was a few inches from falling down the flight of stairs.
“If I push this trashcan it will fall down this flight of stairs.” Greg stated
“What’s that, you want to fall?” Greg said within a few seconds
“I didn’t say anything!” Easton yelled. I couldn’t see his face, it was stuck in the trashcan.
Greg pressed two fingers on the trashcan, and sent the trashcan falling. I could hear Easton yelling along with the sound of the trashcan falling. One student came up the stairs and looked at Greg strangely. Greg left.
I sighed and walked over to the stairs. I shouted down the flight of stairs. “Hey, you still alive down there?”
“Dammit, this isn’t over!” I hear in an echo. I smiled slightly and walked down to the bottom of the flight of stairs.
To my surprise, Easton had managed to stay in the trash can the whole time.
“What the hell did you do to piss him off that much?” I asked while helping Easton get out of the trash can.
“I didn’t do anything!” Easton pretty much pouted. Knowing Easton, I was certain he provoked Greg in some sort of way.
“I think that it would be best to avoid him as much as possible.” I told Easton right after he finally managed to get out of the trash can.
Right then, the late bell rang. My second period teacher didn’t seem completely upset when I came in late, so I still held high hopes.
The bell rung, indicating that class is over. I was about leave until my teacher held me after class. He told me that late was my third late, which means I have ASD now. I nodded my head and told him I understood.
When school ended I decided to call my dad to let him know I have ASD.
“Greyson?” He answered.
“What is it?”
“I got after school detention”
“I was late to class.”
“Why were late to class?”
“…Reasons” A minute or two went by.
“Okay. Come home afterwards.” He hung up.
I stood there for a few minutes. I’ve been trying not to get in trouble so my dad could tell me “good job” or even to just make him proud. I wanted to smash something. I was doing a fairly good job at doing good until now.
“Hey Grey, I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s been boring without you.” Gages said. I took a seat next to him.
“It hasn’t been boring, it’s just been normal.” Mr. Muller said.
I smiled and went on with detention the way I usually did. However I had trouble daydreaming. All I was really thinking about was how good I was doing until today.
When I got home my dad was “making” dinner. I shouted “I’m home” and he welcomed me home. I walked into my room and jumped on my bed. I just laid there for a while, staring at the ceiling.
I stared at the ceiling for such a long time. It was so white that it made me mad. I took my phone out of my pocket and threw it at the ceiling as hard as I could. I think it left a dent. My phone fell to the ground. I would’ve got it, but I couldn’t reach it when I stuck my hand out and I didn’t feel like getting up to get it, so I just left it there.
My dad called me for dinner. We ate in quiet, like always. When we both finished eating, he began talking.
“Greyson, I’m not upset at you for getting detention or being late. I understand you have been trying your best. Just don’t let it happen again.” He wasn’t mad, but I know he expected more of me.
I nodded my head and walked into my room. For some reason I felt incredibly tired. I laid flat on my bed. I imagined myself no longer in my room but in a field of grass. I imagined laying in a field of grass, staring at the starry night sky.
Eventually everything got darker. It got darker and darker until I could no longer see anything. After that, I lost consciousness.
In Miss Vandermen’s class I had to force myself to not daydream. Miss Vandermen asked Greg, an extremely annoying boy who talks far too much, a question.
“Why is Priming considered part of implicit memory, Greg?” That’s easy, it’s because it occurs without conscious awareness.
“I don’t know.” Greg said. He’s stupid too.
“Okay, then who does know why?”
I looked at Miss Vandermen. I knew the answer, but I didn’t feel like raising my hand and answering a question in front of the classroom.
“Yes, Alex.” I looked over to Class Rep. Her name was Alex after all.
“Priming is considered part of implicit memory because it occurs without conscious awareness.”
“That is correct.”
I looked over to Class Rep. She glanced over in my direction and looked away. The fact that we used to have full on conversations just a few weeks ago seems crazy. Now it’s as if we never even met.
She sat next to a window, so the sun shined right on her. I wondered if it was hard to see from the sunlight. Class Rep had golden hair that was slightly longer than shoulder length and dark brown eyes. She had a look of boldness and confidence.
“What is a disadvantage of relying on external rewards to motivate behavior?”
“There is potential to reduce intrinsic motivation.”
Miss Vandermen smiled at me and said that I was correct. It was gross, but I couldn’t help but feel slightly accomplished.
“What was it like to fall down four flights of stairs in a trashcan?”
Easton glared at me. “It gave me a headache and made me all dizzy.”
“Did you puke?”
“How was detention?” Easton said
“Wait, how did you not get detention?”
“That was only my second late.” I looked at Easton. The only time I’m late to class is due to Easton.
“Okay, I did get detention, but I didn’t go.”
“Now you have two after school detentions.”
“I know” He basically growled
Easton took a big bite of his sandwich. He said something with his mouth full. I couldn’t understand it.
“I can’t understand what you’re saying when your mouth’s full.” He swallowed his sandwich bite, and spoke.
“Are you allowed to eat food in detention?”