Page 2 of Owen Gardner is Losing It

Abigail hadn’t hung out with us once that entire school year, and it was already April. Like me, she had her own group of friends, some of them overlapping with the people I hung around with. Yet she’d known Xander even longer than me, and the two of them had a weird bond that was borderline annoying sometimes.

I couldn’t wait to find out which one of them would be the first to admit they were in love with the other.

“Xander,” Abigail said, glancing down at the cart full of books that needed to be returned to the shelves. “I’m helping Mrs. Lake right now. Wait, how did you know I’d be in here?”

“I have my ways,” he answered.

She rolled her eyes. “You won’t talk to me, but you’ll stalk me? Nice.”

Xander's expression shifted, and he seemed caught off guard by her accusation. “What? I talk to you.”

The staredown between the two of them that followed this exchange made me uncomfortable. I glanced up at the library clock. One hour and thirty-three minutes until seventh period. “You don’t have to go with us, Abigail,” I told her, but I knew it was useless. If Xander asked Abigail to jump off a cliff with him, she’d already be getting a running start by now.

“Whatever. Wait for me in the hall,” she whispered, motioning for us to go. We did as instructed, lingering in the inlet leading to the school library. A moment later, Abigail joined us, and the three of us made our way toward the school entrance.

When we rounded the corner into the front hallway, we came face to face with our assistant principal, Mr. Higgins, and stopped in our tracks.

“Xander Pierce,” Mr. Higgins said, taking a step toward us. He and Xander had gotten to know each other pretty well over the past three years. He was the “bad cop” counterpart to Principal Sloane, and he had held a vendetta against Xandersince freshman year. “What kind of mischief are you about to get yourself into, huh?”

Xander responded with a cool, unbothered laugh, which sent a feeling of dread down my spine. “Mischief? What kind of mischief do you think I’m going to get into withtheseguys?” He gestured toward both of us with his thumbs. “We’re running an errand for the school paper.”

Neither Abigail or I were on the newspaper staff with Xander, and I prayed Mr. Higgins didn’t recall that detail. He took a few steps closer, jingling the keys in the pocket of his khaki pants. And to my surprise, he looked me in the eyes and addressed me directly. “Gardner?”

I swallowed. “Yeah?”

“If you want to get anywhere in life, distance yourself from Mr. Pierce here.” He nodded toward Xander before turning to Abigail. “Same goes for you. That’s the best advice I can give.” And with that, he made his way past us, deciding to duck into a nearby classroom.

We’d gotten away with it, but none of us moved toward the doors. Abigail and I turned to Xander in unison, waiting for him to spout off. But he was silent, his eyes fixated on the purple and white tiled floor in front of us. His nostrils flared as he inhaled.

Mr. Higgins didn’t know anything about my best friend. He couldn’t possibly know what made Xander like this, or why he sometimes skipped school for days at a time.

As a matter of fact, Abigail and I were the only ones who knew.

“Fuck him,” I muttered.

“My thoughts exactly,” Abigail said, and we started walking again. “Don’t let him get to you, Xan.”

Xander laughed. “I’m not even worried about it. The guy’s probably right. I mean, look what I’m making the both of you do now. If either of you were as smart as your grades reflect, you wouldn’t be with me right now, huh?”

I didn’t know what to say. Neither did Abigail, apparently. The run-in with Mr. Higgins had soured Xander’s mood. And as we walked across the lot to his truck, Abigail and I exchanged a knowing glance.

Xander needed this day, maybe even more than either of us knew. As frustrated as I was, I’d do my best to play along.

Just as long as we made it back in time for my chemistry test.

Chapter two

“Oxford Comma” - Vampire Weekend

Boomer’s was a hotspot for local retirees just as much as it was for us high schoolers. They’d sit around drinking cup after cup of coffee while talking over the oldies Boomer had playing in there. When I got my license a year ago, one of those old men had to show me how to operate the still-functional, vintage gas pumps outside.

It was humiliating.

Xander backed his pick-up truck against the treeline at the edge of the gravel lot, far enough away from the building we could smoke without getting caught, but close enough to see if anything interesting happened. Not too far away, there was a car full of seniors I recognized but didn’t really know doing the exact same thing.

With Abigail sitting between us, we passed a joint back and forth and watched the old men come and go, slapping each other on the back and talking about the golf game they’d just wrapped up. Xander’s truck didn’t have an aux cord or even a CD player, much to Abigail’s disappointment, so she set her iPhone on the dash and made us listen to Vampire Weekend.

“So, boys,” she said, relaxing against the seat as Xander passed her the joint. She took a puff and stared at her nails. “Prom is just a month away.”

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