2.5

      She merely nodded, giving me a reason to walk away. As soon as I had, though, she stopped me again. “Sam – that boy, Robbie. He’s a good kid, right?”

      I thought about it for a moment. “I guess. He’s – he’s alright. I don’t hang out with him much.” Truth was, I didn’t have much of a problem with Robbie. He just did things that irritated me, like the thing with Jamie. Sometimes I surprised myself at how much I could be angry at someone one moment and then not care about them the next.

      “He said if you wanted to play you could go over to his house. Maybe it’d do you some good to get out of the house for a little while.”

      I could have laughed at the not-so-subtle way Mom was saying I should get out of the house so I could be someone else’s problem for an hour or two. I bit my lip instead, saying “Actually, I was just going to read for a little while.”

      “Oh. Okay.” That was all. No “Have fun!” or “What are you reading?” Whatever.

      I practically sprinted back to my room before she could say something else. I dumped my backpack on top of some clothes that were strewn around my bed. I then plopped down on my blanket and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. I had some stuff I had to read for school, that was true, but I could always read them tomorrow or Sunday. For now, I just wanted to rest.

      It seemed like I was tired a lot of the time, but it wasn’t the sleepy-kind of tired. Most days were just pure exhaustion, where I just wanted to lay down because of some invisible weight on my shoulders. At night was the worst part, though; not only could I not sleep – my mind would race, digging up everything it could to make me feel embarrassed. And lately, when my eyes had finally managed to shut, my mind would continue to haunt me through visions of drowning.

      Every moment of my life is designed to torment me.

      I sat up and leaned against the wall, my eyes resting on the clock on my desk. I felt a fleeting feeling of – Irritation? Gloom? Both? – as I realized that the ‘hours’ I’d spent laying down had been, in reality, only twenty minutes.
 

      It took me a moment, but I finally found the motivation to drag myself out of bed. I looked out the window to find a winter wonderland outside; snow was coming down softly, and it was already covering the ground. My kind of weather.

      I hadn’t noticed I hadn’t taken anything off when I walked in. Convenient for me, I suppose. I walked out and was headed towards the front door. My hand was on the handle when I froze, remembering Mom was still in the kitchen. “Hey,” I called, “I think I’ll go to Robbie’s after all. I’ll be home in a while.”

      No answer for a moment. Then (was that a sigh of relief I heard?), “Okay. Remember to pack for your Dad’s tonight. He has you this weekend.”

      Crap. I’d forgotten about that. “Okay. I’ll be home a little earlier, then!”

      When I was satisfied that she’d returned to her apathetic mood, I opened the door and trudged out into the front yard. One reason I liked this time of year was the quiet atmosphere; during every other season, I could hear the neighbors and whatever they were up to, and usually it was stupid stuff like fights, partying, and annoying dogs that barked at every little thing. In winter, though, all of that was covered up. The quiet lay claim to everything in winter.