The Life of a Watermelon Rind (Chapter 2)

This is the Second Chapter to "The Life of a Watermelon Rind" in Thayne's view. Read Parisi's view first from "The Life of a Watermelon Rind" to catch on.

Thayne

“I just want to feel like I’m important to someone.”

One time Paris asked me what I would be if I was to be a fruit. I thought it over and gave her my answer the next day. Do you know what I picked? Probably not. It’s not a very popular fruit.

I picked an apricot. Okay so do you know what an apricot looks like? It’s similar to a peach but smaller, but it is its own fruit. The major fruits are apples, oranges, peaches, and blueberries and such. An apricot is a minor fruit, or at least that’s what I think.

Why would I be an apricot? I think of myself as a minor person, a less important human being. I just feel unimportant, like if I was hanging off a cliff and another person was at the other side, the person that would have to choose would pick the other person instead of me. I don’t think I’m important, but I want to be.

I want to be the kind of person that a girl stays up all night long thinking about me. I want to be the person where all my friends come rushing over to meet me in the morning. I want to be the kind of person who’s important.

***

My friends. If a random person asked me who my friends were, I’d have nothing to say. Sure I have ‘friends’, but do I really have friends? I have Adrian, Jones, and Charlie. They count as ‘friends’, but they aren’t friends. The only person that’s my friend is Paris. She’s just freakily amazing.

Paris has been my friend since we’ve met in Mr. Lapern’s class in ninth grade. She said she liked my shoes, which I had bought the day before. I said thanks and she asked if she wanted to study with her, and of course I had said yes.

Over ninth and tenth grade we have become really close. I hope this year is finally the year that she could actually become more than a friend to me. I know she’s drawn to me, I am drawn to her as well, maybe even more. But I’m an idiot, I don’t have enough courage to make the first move.

Paris is everything to me. She’s always there to support me and encourage me. I would have to say out of Jones, Adrian, and Charlie, Jones would be the closet to being my second best friend.

I’m not saying that they aren’t my ‘friends’. They are my ‘friends’, but I don’t really connect with them, you know what I mean? It’s nice to have some people to sit with at lunch though.

I do care about them, I just don’t love them, except for maybe Paris. I’ve been to Paris’s house a couple of times and I’ve seen how her family treats her, like she’s nothing but dirt.

Kaitlyn is Paris’s younger sister. Honestly I can’t stand her. She’s one of those blond b*****s, she thinks she’s all that, though I’ve seen her be sweet. She always hangs around me and it’s really annoying. I don’t like to say mean stuff, but I always force myself not to scream, “There is no freaking way that there is an ‘us’ in the future!”

My parents are the opposite, they are fun, outgoing, and insanely dare-devilish. The only time when they lay down the rules is when I’m going to party, hanging out with Paris, and when I’m failing my classes.

My parents lay down the law when it comes to my grades. Going over my phone bill by two hundred dollars? It’s okay just don’t it again. Illegally drinking? You’re grounded for three weeks. Getting a tattoo? Fine, just next time I want to be there with you. Failing classes? You’re phone is mine for the next four months, you’re grounded until you’re thirty. You can’t have any friends over, you can’t go anywhere, unless we accompany you, and you lose all privileges.

It kind of sucks when I fail my classes, I’m basically a criminal. I can’t help it though, well I guess I can but it’s really hard for me to concentrate.

I try, I really do try. With Paris’s help I manage to get some A’s, but without her help I range in the low B’s. I get distracted, and it’s like my brain is not made for this kind of work.

Sure you can call me out to come paint the house or come to work out at the gym. That kind of work is nothing, but school related work and I become disoriented. It’s embarrassing.

Last year my parents put me through three weeks of summer school, talk about torture. My older brother Fergie, doesn’t help me at all. He’s a straight A student, he doesn’t do anything rash. He says he refuses to help someone that’s almost gone to jail before. In my defense I didn’t know what I was doing�"I was drunk. Anyway he’s a waste of space.

You should see his room, it’s painted a fairly dark blue with a few white dots now and then. He has posters of all his geeky math magicians and his room has a bookcase the size of a mountain. He’s so nerdy. I wouldn’t trade my life for his any day.

I like being the destructive and crazy person I am, that’s just me. You can like me or love me, no hate, pff hating me is impossible.

I get angry a lot, people would say I have anger issues. I once got suspended for a week because I punched Dylan McGuire in the jaw after he insulted Paris. As you know my parents aren’t strict unless they come to grades, so they really didn’t care.

I walked to the principal’s office with Dylan and Paris and our parents were there with Principal Conrad sitting there in her dark wooded chair with unblinking eyes. Our conversation went something like this:

“So what caused you to punch Dylan, Thayne?” Principal Conrad asked me her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“He insulted my friend Paris.”

“Girlfriend,” coughed Dylan quietly and smirks at me. My parents had shot Dylan a fierce glare.

“She’s my friend. I got mad, so I punched him,” I had said simply.

“Did you get him good?” Dad questioned eyeing me levelly. I pointed my finger at Dylan’s jaw. It was swollen twice its usually size, it was purple, black, and blue.

“Nice,” Dad commented. Mom shot him a glare.

“Thayne will suffer a week suspended from school, and he will have to hand write an apology to Dylan, and Dylan you will have to write an apology to Miss Winchester as well,” Principal Conrad said, as she dished out the consequences.

Suffer? What was she thinking? I didn’t not suffer from that accident. I wrote my letter grudgingly saying I was sorry and blah, blah, then I spent the week watching T.V and pigging out. I didn’t get in trouble, but Mom kept shooting me glares, but Dad was cracking up about it.

“What did he look like after you had punched him?” Dad asked eagerly his eyes sparkling. I was amused.

“Surprised, maybe shocked.” Dad shook his head and patted my back.

So now you know, I have anger issues. One time I took one of my old girlfriends to a movie theater, and the guy in front of me kept trying to talk to me, and I dumped my popcorn bucket on his head. I ended up getting banned from the movie theater. My girlfriend thought it was very un-cool and she dumped me on the spot. Speaking of relationships I’m not very good at keeping them.

The last girlfriend that I had was last year. Her name was Lila Racer. She was everything to me but she joined the softball team and she got caught up in her stuff and I got caught up in mine. Believe it or not, I kind of forgot about her, since Paris had made a showing in my life. We ended up breaking up the day after Valentine’s Day�"which I swear was one of the worst days of my life.

Lila kept goggling at Chris Briers, and I was stuck at the punch bowl with two cups and just myself. Paris had ended up taking my second cup and we talked and laughed for the rest of the night.

I haven’t dated anyone else since Lila, because it would feel like cheating on Paris, though I’m not with her. I’m a likable kid. At least Paris thinks so.

I was talking to Paris’s sister, yes Kaitlyn, earlier this month and she was asking about the juniors. She asked me for Gabriel Robert’s number. How the heck could she know? I didn’t deny it, but she also didn’t mention it, I just silently gave her his number. I swear that girl stalks me.

Gabriel Roberts. Gabriel is the opposite of an angel, he’s the devil. He has dark brown hair and cold brown eyes. He’s no good, but nor am I.

Gabriel and I have a history, I’m sad to admit. We used to be joint at the hip. Of course I was always better looking than he was…

We used to go to the same middle school. Cayman Middle School is where I first met Gabriel. We were in sixth grade and my first school project I was assigned with him.

At first I was iffy about him and I could sense he felt the same but then when he saw my room I had an Assassins Creed poster hung on my door. He said he played that a lot at home. I did as well.

Instead of doing our project we spent hours in front of my game system playing Assassins Creed. We ended up turning in our project late, but we got to know each other in the time, and we still got an A.

It was nice to know that I would always have a friend to talk with and knew I would never be alone. Then Gabriel got into some of that other teenage junky stuff and I kept my slate clean through middle school.

Our mom’s were the best of friends, they were so happy for us when they find out we were going to the same high school together. But by then we had drifted apart so much that no words could repair our friendship. We didn’t even acknowledge each other when we were seated next to each other in first period biology.

I picked my friends, and he picked his. We never looked back, or at least I didn’t. Gabriel’s always been a nutshell, my Mom thinks he was my good influence. Gabriel was this wrecking ball who destroyed everything and everyone in his path.

The reason why Mom thinks Gabriel was my good influence is because he did all the rash stuff, and I was his goody sidekick. After we were no longer friends, I did all the crazy stuff. I don’t really keep tabs on Gabriel anymore, I used to though. 

I always looked for his names on school competitions to see if I had beaten him and a lot of times I did. I always looked at who he hung out with. He hung out with this weird guy named Spoony and another girl called Makayla. They are such freaks.   

Gabriel always wears a leather jacket, and he has his old beat up motorcycle called Goke. He’s so lame, I would be in trouble if I still hung out with him. He’s so ratty. I would have never gotten to meet Paris.

I head to the cafeteria, still in thought, Frankie stalks behind me her feet heavy. When I first saw Frankie across the field I didn’t know what I was doing until I was leading her back to where Charlie and Paris were. The look on Paris’s face when I brought back Frankie was unmistakably painful. I tried to shrug it off, it also didn’t help when Dom and Jennifer kissed me. I was like what was that for? They’ve never showed an interest for me.

I look back at Frankie who’s steel gaze meets mine, I quickly avert my eyes to a smiling cow that’s hanging on the wall�"well it’s a poster.

Frankie is pretty, she has dark blond hair, with black highlights, she has these piercing green eyes that make me shiver. I don’t know why I invited her. I guess I just didn’t want her to sit alone. In L.A I asked her about her family and where she came from before coming here.

She said she had lived in New York and that she was living with a foster family. I didn’t ask her about her real family.

Frankie reminds me of someone but I just cannot grasp it. I glance at my surrounding we’re almost to the cafeteria. I see kids walking past me quickly�"probably trying to grab the last piece of basil pizza before it’s all gone.

Collins is the best chef ever, period. He should be on one of those T.V shows, he’d blow all the other competitors to bits.

I get to the hallway that leads to the cafeteria and I hear screaming. Loud ear splitting screaming. I quickly pick up my pace and I can feel Frankie hurry behind me.

The air around me get’s hotter and steamier and I let out a cough. I hear a couple people behind me cough. I smell smoke, my eyes start to water. I get a glimpse in the cafeteria, smoke billows across the entrance.

The wave of fire is bigger than a tsunami, Collins really screwed up. The cafeteria is filled with fire, no way to get out or go in. I hear screaming, hysterical screaming, my eyes start to water. Not because of the smoke because there are people that I love in there. Paris. Jones. Adrian. Charlie.

Frankie grips my arm and pulls me back, possibly saving my life. Without her I would have run in.

“It’s going to be fine,” Frankie says to me sharply.

I choke back horror as the wave of fire comes crashing down and the ceiling of the cafeteria caves in. Paris is my last thought before Frankie pushes me down to the ground and runs for help. 

Author's Note

This is the Second Part to "The Life of a Watermelon Rind" read the first part in the view of Paris to catch on to Thayne's view.
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