10000 5/8

        The glances around us became consumed with more concern as Chase finished his depressing rant. I had to respond strongly or I was fairly certain Chase was going to take his life right then and there. The stakes could never be higher.


        “Chase, life is like a choose your own adventure game. There is many paths that you can take. There’s dark futures. There’s bright futures. But you’re never confined to one narrative. You don’t have to hate yourself, because you can change yourself. And I know this sounds cliche, but you are truly looking for a permanent solution, in a temporary problem. We’ll all go off to college soon, and that’s when you can change your narrative. That’s your moment to choose your path, and pick your adventure. Life doesn’t stop in high school. The path’s only get wider and more decisive. You have plenty of time to change it, don’t stop now. I didn’t come with you to this party to gain pity points. I came with you because I saw myself in you. I saw the insecurity, search for identity, and pain in your unbroken eyes. You gave me hope in myself, I hope in what I could be, never forget that. You are Chase Lentil.”


Chase stood there for a second holding back his tears and staring at me in the quivering October wind. I felt his shutters a mile away with his pride in his fists. He escaped from the crowd to the smaller side of the roof in the back where nobody was at and presumably he jumped off. I don’t know if he killed himself, or landed on his feet and ran away. I like to think he ran away due to the size of the roof but I had no time to contemplate as kids were sprinting full fledged with the presence of cops arriving only a few moments later. Ryan, Miranda, Veronica, and I got away safely at a nearby IHop but I heard from Veronica that the triplets weren’t so lucky and ended up with three identical minor in possession tickets. Veronica called us a regular sized Uber back to Veronica’s house and passed out on the couches.







Journal Entry 265
Axel Martin
11/20/2016
10:01PM
Crush.
        At the party, I felt something raw. Something that hit me like a semi-truck in the middle of an empty road at a forgotten forest. It was the emotion of Miranda making out with that football player. My mind and my heart felt polarized when taking the incident in context with our infamously platonic relationship to Miranda. I felt embarrassment progress to anger and then to sadness that night. But why did I feel this way? The dynamic between Miranda and I feels the same as it was since we were 10, and surely she’s had boyfriends or boys in her life that didn’t make me feel as strong as it does now. Since the party on Halloween, I avoided her every attempt to hangout. I think she’s starting to know the real reason why I’ve been avoiding her. Do I even know, though? I’m not entirely convinced, that I have feelings for Miranda. But I know my heart has been hurting after I saw her with that football player. Maybe it was the feeling I felt after defending her honor against another football player objectifying her, and then subsequently proving him right. Making me look like a clown in return. That conclusion might be a little unfair to Miranda. She has a right to makeout with anybody she wants to. I’m not her Dad. Who am I to say her making out with that boy justified the sexist comments of some football player. Good for her, maybe she found a good guy. All while Veronica expressed some sort of feelings for me while she was drunk. Veronica is considered to look way better than Miranda anyway, why should I be worried about Miranda? Although, I can’t say clearly either way about that. Veronica was one, pretty drunk and two, extremely vague. The triplets telling me that Veronica “wants me” was pretty ambiguous. I mean, she was in need and I am her best friend. She probably wanted me because she needed help navigating through a pretty messed up night. At the same time though, when I saw her it seemed like she wanted to kiss me. Until we were interrupted by Chase’s event. If I told myself back in eighth grade that Veronica wanted to kiss me, I’d probably check myself into a mental hospital. Now, it actually was a possible reality. Maybe this is what  Chase was talking about, my life might be great. Speaking of Chase, where has he been? I haven’t seen him since the party. Rumors are he moved out of town to escape the suicide scare that happened on Halloween. I say good for him. Feeling ashamed is good. Means he still cares about life.


Fin
Axel Martin
12:26 PM




It’s a Family Affair
        Usually the day before Thanksgiving, Veronica hosts a “Friendsgiving” where we give each other gifts and eat dinner at Veronica’s house. This year, I told them I couldn’t attend. The truth was, I didn’t really want to. I felt too annoyed at Miranda, and for the whole month it has been awkward between Veronica and I. After Veronica invited the triplets to fill the void I left, Ryan opted out of Friendsgiving too. We spent our Friendsgiving watching The Godfather series at my house and eating Jet’s Barbeque Chicken Pizza.


        “You know, Miranda really misses talking to you,” Ryan chirped up randomly.


        I stared at the screen for a little bit before I responded to Ryan.


        “We still talk,” I said blandly.


        “That’s not true,” Ryan said.


        I didn’t say anything this time.


        “I think you’re doing this because of Miranda kissing that dude at the party,” Ryan inferred.


“So what if it was, it doesn’t matter. I’m not her boyfriend,” I said stiffly.


“That’s not fair to her Axel, if you like her you need to just tell her,” Ryan said raising his voice.


“I never said I liked her,” I said quickly.


“It seems like it! You’ve been ducking your feelings for her since middle school,” Ryan said.


“Since when are you so interested in my love life,” I snarked.


“I’m not. You’re just being selfish. You’re ruining our friend group,” Ryan snapped.


“Oh really, is that right now. I’m the one who’s ruining our friend group,” I said facetiously.


“Yes Axel, you are. Look at yourself! Distancing yourself from us because you’re too afraid to be a man and admit how you feel to Miranda,” Ryan said.


“Well you’re here now, aren’t you? Talk about distancing, you’re never around anymore! You are always at baseball. Baseball this, baseball that.  It feels like you’re a stranger to me,” I replied.


“Are you genuinely trying to compare my SPORT to your unfair grudge that you’re holding against Miranda,” Ryan questioned.


“Who do you think you are? Sure, you do your little sport. I am a fucking national award winning poet. I’m not bragging but at least I don’t sit around with my idiot jock friends all day doing nothing but talking about sports in replace of the friends that actually have been there for me,” I yelled.


Ryan stood up abruptly and gave me a hard look up and down.


“You need help, Axel. When you get your shit together then maybe text me. I’ll be at Veronica’s… where you SHOULD be,” Ryan said as he stormed out the front door.


I finished the movies by myself, until my mom came in with her wine glass and told me that we were going to my grandma’s house.


“Do I have to? She’s coming over tomorrow anyway,” I pleaded.


She took a quick glance around my room and noticed the empty pizza box and ice cream cartons in the room.


“Well… it looks like you’re not doing anything particularly important. I think it might good for you to go,” she observed.


        “Well… if I have to,” I joked.
       
        I got up and brushed the pizza crumbs off my shirt. I knew I had a choice. My mom didn’t force me to do much in life. But usually her advice often proved to be the best decisions I’ve made.


        We got in the car at around 6, and it took us about an hour to get to my grandma’s house. She lived in a secluded area that she shared with my grandfather before he died. I always wondered if she felt lonely by herself in the middle of nowhere. I certainly would. But she always seemed preoccupied when we walked in the door, almost as a front to mask her loneliness. Today was no different, when we walked into the door she was half vacuuming, half dancing to music she had blaring in the background. I have to admit, for an 82 year old woman, she sure had some moves.


        “Well look who it is, my adorable family,” my grandma exclaimed cheerfully.


        “Hi grandma,” I said with a smile.


        “You look famished young man, come eat,” she said.


        “I actually just ate pizza grandma,” I assured her.


        “Pizza? No, no, no. That’s not a proper meal. I keep trying to tell you kids that. What has Patricia been feeding you,” she lectured.


        “Mom…,” my mom said while blushing.


        There’s some kind of weird beautifulness about an old white woman born in the 1930s that looks at her undeniably black grandson with love. I wondered if she ever expected something like this in her 20’s. Probably not. Apparently she never had anything against black people like most of her peers did. Which makes sense because she adored my father. My mom’s grandparents however hated black people and often referred to them as “niggers” which is to be expected I guess. They died before they had a chance to condemn my mother’s interracial marriage. It’s just interesting how that none of the hate from her parents ever stuck with my grandma.


We all sat down at the dinner table and marveled at my grandma’s ham, ribs, macaroni and cheese, green beans, and mashed potatoes. The meal was going well until my grandma brought up my dad. It was odd that she felt so close to him even after he left. You’d think she would hate him for breaking her daughter’s heart.


“So Patricia, have you read Stephen’s new book,” my grandma asked.


My mom’s eyes never left her plate and chewed on only waiting a few moments before answering.


“I have not,” my mom said.


“Well, I think you should… it’s very well written and it’s very interactive with the reader,” my grandma elaborated.


“Oh, that’s great for him,” my mom said still not looking up.


My grandma turned to me and asked if I ever read my dad’s books.


“Can’t say I have,” I admitted.


“Axel, I want you to have something,” she said as she got up to go in her room and retrieve something.


She came back with a old dusty poem book labelled “Dreams” the author was Stephen Allen. My mom’s eyes finally peered up from her plate.


“This was your dad’s first book, Axel. It was a book of over 200 poems,” she said.


I took the book from her, and held it like it was the first dinosaur fossil ever discovered. 


“Thanks Mom… but no thanks, we have too much junk lying around the house,” my mom interrupted.


“Yeah… she’s right. I don’t know if I should take this,” I said giving my grandmother back the book.


I never saw more sorrow in her eyes. She stood next to her chair in a cold silence. So many questions filled my head in that instant. What was in the book? Why’d my grandmother keep my abandoned dad’s book? Why won’t my mom let me read?


“Oh okay…,” my grandma said depleted from her efforts.


“I’m going to go out and do some errands. I’ll be right back,” my mom said as she got up and emptied her plate in the trash.


My grandma and I watched her leave out the window to what seemed to be an eternity. All the plates were put up and we stared out the window for a second before my grandma spoke up.


“Have you tried meeting your dad, Axel,” my grandma asked me quietly.


“No,” I responded.


“Your mother carries a lot of angst against Steve,” she said.


“Yeah, with good reason,” I said matter-of-factly.


“Maybe. But a child should meet his father. I can see the hatred for him in your heart. It’s eating you apart,” she said carefully.


“Grandma, I appreciate the concern but my feelings towards him are very minimal,” I said earnestly.


“Well, maybe that’s not right. I think you could learn a lot from him. You remind me of him. You too were just alike. Smart, calm-minded, and well spoken,” she reminisced.


“Really? I remind you of him? That’s interesting,” I said curiously.


“Yes, where do you think all that poetry of yours came from? The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, and you’re no exception. I tried to convince your mother to try and reconnect with him when you were little. But she always became defensive when I prompted the idea. She didn’t even want to get child support or legally divorce him. Technically, your mother is still married to you father,” she told me.


“Why would she not file for divorce after he left us,” I asked.


“She said she didn’t want to be bothered with it. I think the real truth is that she secretly didn’t want to lose her ties to Stephen. He was a good guy. With a good heart too… he was just… confused,” she said.


“Confused? What does that mean grandma,” I asked.


This time she did not reply. Instead, her eyes squeezed together and she reached out. I think she was having a stroke. I called 911 as soon as I could but it was too late. Her lifeless eyes were staring back at me as I cried and waited for medical help to come. The moment felt tender but dark and sad. My mom came and picked me up promptly after a medical staff took my grandma from the house. We stayed up all night reminiscing alone eating cookie dough ice cream. The next day on Thanksgiving was short and stale. We ate, and went to sleep. Nothing felt fun anymore. Rest in peace, Grandma.

Axels poetry and short narrative stories 2500 words

Forever and Ever
Axel Martin


“‘Maybe...you'll fall in love with me all over again.’”
“‘Hell," I said, "I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?’"
‘“Yes. I want to ruin you.’"
“‘Good," I said. "That's what I want too.’”










“Who said that,” the girl asked sheepishly.


“Ernest Hemingway, in his book, Farewell to Arms,” I replied.


The lake appeared stagnant on the hilltop beneath the trees. Intimacy between Rae and I felt vibrant as ever while the Sunday summer sun rested on her pulsating radiant skin.


“Oh I know him! My father used to read his poems to me before he passed,” she reminisced.








        Her plain expressions refused to acknowledge the immense sorrow that has inflicted her over the years.


        “Well your father sounds like a phenomenal person,” I said at an attempt of sympathy.








        “He was, meaning not anymore, your average dad... at best. Don’t try and patronize me for losing him. He’s dead. It’s life. It happens,” she said in resentment.


        “Rae, I didn’t mean to patronize you… I just knew how much he meant to you, that’s all,” I pleaded.


        Her face turned from fierce embarrassment to soft vulnerability as her face was embellished with sharp tears. She reached for my arm in compulsion.








        “I miss him, Ari. I think about him every damn day. He was the only person that loved me unconditionally,” she sobbed.


        “You’ll see him again one day. But for now, you have to be strong okay? That’s what he would have wanted,” I said emphatically.








        Rae has a chameleon-like presence when it comes to her emotions. But I see right through that. I see a person who has been hurting like an injured mother buck protecting her three young children on a busy road. Plagued by adversity, but too prideful to accept help. Or, maybe it was fear. Fear of getting hurt again.


        “Rae, I’m not your father, and I never will be… but I love you, and for as long as I am alive, I will always love you,” I said without hesitation.








        “Ari, I don’t know what to say, I… I....” she stuttered seamlessly.
        
        She leaned over from her side of the towel we shared, overwhelming me with beauty. Milky grey clouds replaced the eye blinding sun creating a grey atmosphere that perfectly contrasted with her popping luminescence. She glared at my beating oblivious soul with tempestuous keen eyes.






        “I love you too,” she said, mirroring my confidence.


        She reached through her back pocket for what could be… chocolate? A love note? A gift..? All in contrary to what it was, a knife. A knife with a blade sharper than the stairs to hell. She wrapped her arms around me as she stabbed me six times in the back. Her hands melted inside of me as she wept.
        
















        “Now, we will always and forever have each other,” she said, in infinity.










grass isn't greener
Axel Martin


 The formalities of your body are merely supplementary to the nature of your grace. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am no adequate man. 
My heart pays no fair price.

Through love or through lust, 
my lack of treasure is twofold.


With my soul in poverty, 
you struck me a chance. 


Gave hope in flight, 
when I could not stand.


Your love for me is hard to know.


What's a diamond to a dog,
What's a fish to a frog?


We infer a touch.
We know no such.




Until one day we leave, 
and it all comes at once.






Cycle
Axel Martin


You said you wouldn't go back.
----------------------------------- But, you did.


Did he cast a spell on you?


Did he hold you at gunpoint?


I'm not mad at you, and for the most part— I understand.


I truly do.


Manipulative people are manipulative for a reason.


Just tell me,


what does he provide that overrides his quoted, narcissism, selfishness, and jealousy?


Though my words speak hostility,


I genuinely want you to know


the end of the tunnel
doesn't
stop
in darkness.


Camphor Tree
Axel Martin


hey, have u heard of the old man and the camphor tree?


have you heard of him?
the old man who goes outside
to pray under his camphor tree.
he goes outside every day
and every eleventh day he sees an angel.
nobody can hear,
see,
nor smell the angel.
only the old man knows the angel.
many have doubted the angel’s existence.
many have labeled him crazy.
many have avoided him.
however, the old man continues to pray.
on one serendipitous summer afternoon,
a curious woman joined the old man.
the old man wasn't bothered by the visitor,
nor was the old man intrigued.
the unknown woman calmly asked,
“when will i see the angel?”
the old man didn't acknowledge her.
angered, the woman raised her voice.
“you're a fraud! there is no angel!”
the old man slowly turned to face his angered visitor.
the old man smiling, pointed at the tree,
“i have been out here for fifteen, now sixteen years.”
the old man rose up facing away from the camphor tree,
“the angel has never appeared”
“until you came”
“on the eleventh day of the eighth month, during the sixteenth year.”








she loves me, she loves me not
Axel Martin


you said the things that made my ears warm


the type of affirmation that assured my unhinged mind.
i couldn't explain it
i didn't want to.
i only wanted your unwavering commitment
but that's foreign to you.
you simply didn't understand how to love.
and i can't blame you.
nobody ever stayed long enough to show you.
so you made your own happy ending
your own narrative.
i was the villain
and he was the savior.
i was too late
and he was right there.
the night swept you
so off you went
in hopeless void
to imaginary wind.
then, suddenly i see you
floating in abyss


realizing just how
shallow you've been.






Breathless
Axel Martin
I wish I could sing
So I can hum to a Canary
And relieve the pain
To whisk away
Great faults I claim
In this dangerous world
Full of trial and conviction
I lived an eternity
But my sentence isn’t finished.


________________




What difference makes different?
When fake is fiction
Love is pain
Healing is addiction.


They’re all the same,
No matter the smile
No matter the face
No matter the promise
No matter the place.


I love you
But you make me feel numb
The seeds in the air
Make the sky turn blue
Me seeing you
Makes me see two


________________




I wish I could sing
And deliver this message
Until that day
I’ll look for you...
Breathless.






hopeless romantic
Axel Martin


My favorite game as a child was chase.
Our version contained the natural elements, person A tries to run from person B.
However, this game had a stipulation.
If person A got caught, person B was warranted to give person A a kiss.
This caveat only applied to my female counterpart and I.
Although I wanted to maintain the integrity of the game,
the prospect of receiving a kiss was tantalizing.
I was very much capable of escaping this girl every single time I stepped foot on the playground,
but I needed to know if she would really kiss me.
I needed to know if she liked me too or if she was just playing the game.
Maybe, if I let myself get caught, I’d see for sure.
A guaranteed answer, to my troubling question.
But I couldn’t do it.
I was too afraid.
Afraid that she wouldn’t kiss me,
and I’d know the truth for sure, her true intentions.
One day I had miscalculated my path.
I found myself in a circular play-structure, where the entrance is the exit as well.
She had finally won.
She captured me.
I was stuck.
I couldn’t run.
I couldn’t hide.
I couldn’t think.
I had to face not her,
but my fears.
Whether she liked me or was she just playing with me.
I mean, the game.
She took three steps towards me…
I closed my eyes,
and she popped a kiss right on my cherry chapstick covered lips.
She leaned away and looked at me.
I took the cringe out of my face
and grinned wider than I ever have.
She smiled back and ran away to the recess bell.
        Today, I still run, I still hide, I still contemplate, but now it’s not kisses. It’s love. I run and run until there’s nowhere left to go, and I look the recipient of my love in the face hoping they love me. However, the same hopeful ending in elementary doesn’t occur… I don’t get that kiss. I get the painful realization that they don’t care, they don’t want me, they don’t love me. They were just playing the game of chase all along.




high
Axel Martin
\\
i can't do this
...
i'm with the wind,
i'm through the sky,
i'm in the air.
...
floating tall,
but not far.
moving fast,
but not quick.
...
sometimes i cry
...
i am sad
[...]
i am happy
...
i close my eyes
and dream about you.
...
at the park,
by the lake.
...
we're in the air,
we're through the sky,
we're with the wind.
...
we can do this.
//
Axel Martin
high






I am the Abuser.
Axel Martin


Your naive character ambiguously taunted my narcissistic mannerisms, enabling the snake that internally resides to slither through conversation with ease.
I listened, I learned.
More, I begged.
You felt the comfort, privileging, as nothing seemed to matter more besides you, and the sun that rules your earth.
Peace eclipsed your heart and let out an euphoric feeling, beyond plastic relief.
My illusion that I have curated, is working with immunity.
Nothing I say nor do can be rationed in the same sentence as wrong.
You are mine now.
Like the rest, you are under my control.
The light is absent, and your functionality is futile.
Now submit to me in eternity, and accept your fate.




i'm paranoid 
Axel Martin


my fears have manifested into illusions of deceit by those from a dreadful past.
i see you in living color though, you're different.
i can see you've been through it too.
the pain.
the sorrow.
the pending sense of doom as you eye those pills.
our heart,
we view it as... repairable
but the beats to my livelihood are only complementary to your presence.
i gave you too many tools 
but i thought you were my mechanic 
a savior
the one.
granted, you were never real though.
only a manifestation of fears to illusions from a dreadful past.










Cycle part 2
Axel Martin


Every night,
it's the same windswept song. 
However, 
my love for you swells.
You put me in havoc,
then console me so well, i forget you scar me.
Your manipulation is unique to classical love.
The tactic of build and destroy is malign, 
putting my head through an array of mind games. 
Then you offer an ice pack that convinces me you heal all wounds.
Your abuse knows no bounds,
but your affection is unwavering.


Love that'll never end.








You're my Valentine, Satan.
Axel Martin


I submitted to you by the complex laws of love. As passion eclipsed our bodies with beauty, I searched for my invidious utopia inside the pitfalls of your hibiscus. My masculinity goes unquestioned by the soothing cries assuring the innocence we so desperately cling to. The absence of light sparked the greatest flame by Prometheus himself. 
-
Our love is a dark love, indeed. Fueled by jealousy and envy, cooperating and functioning at its apex. I distance myself periodically to balance not having you and the dark that inherently makes up our love in my trivial meaningless life. Anger and insecurity is a result of the painfully inescapable calamity effecting us beyond comprehension. 
But, at the end of the day,
I crawl back 
Dance my words around your ears
And hold you like none other...


You're my Valentine, Satan.








Intertwined
Axel Martin


Bitter and Distressed,
 I float to your calming words to mellow the storm. 
Thorns among Roses,
 I cling to the belief that I will be relieved of this curse filled void that is alive inside me. 
Death is surely an easy way to go. 
Free of Fear. 
Free of Anger. 
Free of Sadness. 
Free of Free. 
The thought crosses my mind as often as not. 
Sizing the belt up against my throat. 
I feel the waves of emotion. 
Good. Bad. Irregular. 
I imagine the distraught face of you by the occurrence of my passing. 
You and Death. 
Intertwined.

7500 4/19

When we walked in, I realized I gravely underestimated the size of the party… there was at least 200 people here.  Veronica and the triplets went straight to the middle of the house to probably find the kitchen where the liquor was. Ryan, Miranda, and I went downstairs to talk to some of our other friends and meet people. Chase disappeared into the abyss of people, and frankly I was glad he did. As we were walking downstairs I notice in the corner of my eye JJ Best approaching me.


“Finally, another black guy here. I thought we were the only one,” JJ said as 3 of his other friends emerged from behind him.


“Haha yeah, I know right? It’s good seeing you,” I replied with a fake laugh.


I like JJ normally during school but I hate how when I see him at parties he tries to put me in a box. I feel like he almost wants me to be restricted to only hanging out with him and whatever other black guy that is there. I understand where he’s coming from though, I guess the subtly racist comments made by our peers get to him. Where he feels so alienated he has to cling on to other black people who experience the same sort of vague degradation. I honestly I just don’t care, and I’m not going to spend my time sitting in the corner feeling angry about it. Sorry, not sorry JJ.


“Where are you guys about to go,” JJ asked.


Oh boy, here we go.


“Yeah, I don’t really know. But I’m about to use the restroom so excuse me fellas,” I dismissed.


I lied.


“Oh…alright. I’ll see you around later though Axel,” JJ asked innocently.


“Yeah, hopefully,” I said as I escaped to the bathroom.

I felt horrible. JJ wasn’t a bad kid, he was actually a really nice person. It’s hard for him to make friends around here because he’s really dark and tall and I think he looks intimidating to all the preppy kids in Stockton who have only seen black people on the news doing criminal things. Maybe he didn’t persist for my company to unite us against all the white people we were surrounded by. Rather he saw me as a door of connection to them. My door was locked with the key thrown.


In the bathroom, I sent a half coherent dizzying text to Veronica asking where she was and she just sent back two bottle emojis with a blush face emoji indicating liquor. I assumed she was either too intoxicated to respond with full sentences or too preoccupied flirting. Or both.
“Hey, Axel, you good man? C’mon I’m ready to go downstairs,” Ryan said hastily.


I noticed Miranda was absent.


“Did Miranda leave,” I asked softly.


“Yeah dude, she got tired of waiting, she said to meet her downstairs,” Ryan informed me.


We walked down only to be blinded by the masses of people who were talking, drinking, smoking, hooking up, and playing drinking games. Sarah’s basement is fairly large but it was no match for the hundred people huddled from the staircase to the back wall.


There was three adjacent pong tables set up to play three different drinking games. The first, which had the most amount of people was beer pong. Beer pong basically consisted of 10 red solo cups with beer on both sides that are shaped into an ascending triangle. The objective of the game was to have you and your partner throw a pong ball once at a time into your opponent’s cups causing them to drink the beer in the cup. The winner is the duo that finishes off all the remaining cups in the opponent’s triangle. Rules may consist of no elbows over the edge of the ping pong table, bouncing pong balls will result in two cups collected, and you may attempt to blow your opponents shot out the cup if it doesn’t hit the liquid. 


On the second ping pong table was slap cup. Knockout is a game similar to the basketball version where two teams have two competing players shooting ping pong balls into how ever many red solo cups you desire, usually 5, and after one player makes a cup they have to drink a corresponding cup to move on to the subsequent cups. When one player finishes their row of cups their partner is at the end of the row and starts their turn. The first team to make and drink all cups wins.


The last of the three drinking games had the least amount of people and no ping pong balls. Instead, they played a game much like the popular card game, BS. Five people are dealt the deck evenly and put down cards face down in chronological order starting with the ace. You can put down whatever card or cards you want but if someone calls “BS” and you put down a card that doesn’t correspond to it’s numerical order in the game then you have to drink the contents in your cup and take all the cards in the deck. On the flipside, if the person who calls “BS” is wrong then they have to drink the contents of their cup and assume all of the cards. The game has a winner when somebody loses all of their cards.


I saw Chase at the third table smiling from ear to ear with about a million cards in his hand screeching out “bullshit!” at almost every turn. I suddenly felt good we decided to bring him along, he truly looked like he was having the time of his life.


Ryan and I got engaged into a conversation intermingled with his baseball friends and some football players that were around. They were exchanging sex stories that for a minute peaked my interest and made me laugh. The stories were fueled with meaningful dialogue, interesting plot developments, absurdist humor, and suspenseful climaxes that garnered a huge drunk sailor-like laugh from me. When the baseball and football players noticed my ears suddenly got warm red as I was now the subject of conversation.


“Woah is that Axel Martin, how are you dude,” One of the football players asked nicely.


“I’m good man, thanks for asking, just applying to colleges you know,” I replied.


“You bang that Miranda chick yet,” another football player asked as he dry humped the air.


My ears were now red hot in a mix of embarrassment, shame, and a little bit of anger. I have never heard anyone refer to Miranda in such vulgar terms. Don’t get me wrong, Miranda is a very attractive girl but I felt she deserved more than to get “banged”.


“Uh.. I..,” I struggled to respond.


“Take it easy, Mike, that’s just Axel’s friend,” Ryan stepped up.


“I mean why not? She has some absolutely gorgeous breasts,” Mike said as he cupped his hands around his chest to indicate boobs.


Now I was blatantly angry. Miranda didn’t deserve this bozo making all types of crude jokes about Miranda. She was probably the most wholesome girl I’ve ever known. Even if I was sexually involved with Miranda, I would never let this clown talk down on her and treat her like an object. I stepped up to the Mike and felt myself ready to fight.


“Oh wait nevermind! Check it out, she’s hooking up with Nick,” Mike said as he pointed out Miranda sloppily making out with another football player. 


“Oh shit…,” Ryan said shocked.


All the anger inside of me vanished down a dark hole in the center of my stomach. I felt the world moving as my face turned bright red and my head spun. I didn’t know why I felt like this. But I found myself in an immovable stare as I watched her tongue twist and turn while it intermingled with his. It resembled one of those inflatable wacky air dancers you see at car dealerships. She had one leg in the air as his hands were all over her body like he was trying to cover every last bit over her body. The air felt suffocating with every breath I choked up. Why was I feeling this way, I asked myself. Miranda and I weren’t dating nor did I have feelings, I thought. We had been friends forever and seeing her kissing this guy destroyed me, so I ran.
“Axel! Wait up, where are you going,” Ryan called after me as I escaped the basement.


On my way out of leaving I ran into Chase who was way too intoxicated. He fell in my arms and told me to get him some water. So I dragged him out of the the crowd and set him down on a unused staircase away from everyone.


“Axel, I..I..I just want say, I just want to say… thank you. For all of what you do,” Chase expressed drunkenly.


I saw a little bit of vomit on Chase’s shirt so I took it off of him and replaced it with my T-shirt so he wouldn’t get nauseous.


“Axel, I’m so sorry about this… please forgive me. You have been the best friend I ever had,”  Chase kept on talking.


“It’s okay, I’m just making sure you’re good man, don’t worry about,”  I assured Chase.


As I left to get Chase cranberry juice, he sat up and looked at me. With the most glaringly depressed and serious eyes he talked to me as straight as he could drunkenly muster.


“Look at me for a second… don’t let me kill myself. You won’t let me die will you,” Chase asked painfully.


“Um… I won’t Chase, just stay here, okay? I’ll be back, don’t worry,” I said nervously.


I didn’t know what Chase meant by that and I started to get seriously concerned. So I decided to try and find Veronica while I went to the kitchen to get cranberry juice.         As I rushed into the kitchen I bumped into the triplets.


“Oh my God Axel, we’ve been looking for you. Veronica is so drunk and she’s been saying she wants you,” Tiffany said looking concerned.


“What?! She wants me? Like… sexually,” I asked very confused..


“I don’t know you should just go see her now,” Tiffany said in panic.


Tiffany, Trinity, Taylor and I went searching for a drunk, lost, and probably wandering Veronica in the incredibly large house sifting through crowds of people while the blaring music was so loud that it somehow impaired our vision. Or maybe, it was just the eight shots of vodka I had in my system.


After at least 10 minutes of aimless searching we decided to ask JJ if he saw Veronica anywhere.
“Last I saw, she was in the kitchen drinking out of the Tito’s handle and then she went upstairs throwing up in the bathroom, but after that I don’t know,” JJ told us.


“How long ago was that,” I asked JJ.


“About 30 minutes ago,” JJ told me.


“Okay, thank you bud,” I said as the triplets and I headed upstairs to the bathroom.


Sure enough, Veronica was still there sitting on the ground with her cat makeup smeared and her face looked really distressed. The triplets stayed at the door and looked in awe as I went over and kneeled down right besides her and her eyes immediately lit up.


“Axel! Thank you for coming, I need you right now. I’m just such a mess,” Veronica said with her eyes swelling up.


“No, you’re okay. Just relax and take deep breaths,” I calmed.


“I think I need to tell you something,” Veronica said drunkenly.


“Okay, go ahead I’m listening,” I said.


We all paused for a moment when we heard footsteps running up the stairs with the same anxiety as Chase Lentil. That’s when I realized I forgot about Chase downstairs. My internal panicked was overshadowed by the pace of the footsteps coming upstairs.


“Somebody’s about to kill themselves! Come down right now,” an unknown person screeched.


All 5 of us rushed downstairs and followed the unknown messenger to a crowd of people moving outside to follow the commotion of a lone person on the roof claiming they were going to kill themself.  When the triplets, Veronica, and I got outside we lost the messenger but saw Ryan and Miranda outside standing in confusion.


“Axel! There you are… where have you been?! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Miranda exclaimed.


“Oh were you now,” I snarled.


Miranda stood there shocked at my response with her mouth wide open. I don’t think she’s ever seen me respond so snarky in her life. I don’t even know why I was so snarky. I had no real right to be snarky.


“Who is on the roof? Can anybody see who it is,” Ryan said at an attempt of diffusing the tension.


We all squinted at a figure on the roof pacing around but none of us could make out who the person was. We were surrounded by murmurs from about a hundred people whispering about who the person on the roof was. Then, the figure got closer and closer and I could finally make out who the person was… it was Chase Lentil.


        “CHASE… CHASE… look at me, it’s Axel,” I screamed and emerged from the crowd.


        Chase started walking towards me as the crowd of people let out a shocking gasp. Chase had the gloomiest face I’ve ever seen as he looked at me on type of the roof.


        “Get down from there! What are you doing,” I said firmly.


        “Yeah dork, get off the roof. You’re ruining the party,” Mike the football player said as he looked around for somebody to high five.


        Nobody high fived him.


        “There’s no point Axel,” Chase said while looking down.


        “No point in what, what are you talking about,” I snapped.


        “No point in me, no point in living like this,” Chase elaborated.


        “Living like what Chase? You have a beautiful life,” I yelled back.


        At this point in the exchange, everyone’s attention was centered on Chase and I. Everyone looked at us and I felt things starting to escalate.


        “I exist in a bubble. A bubble in which nobody can hear me, nobody can see me, and nobody can touch me. I am invisible, Axel. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Who determined that I would be alienated from everyone. I have no friends, no talents, no quirks, no girlfriend, nothing. See you wouldn’t get it because you have it all Axel. You’re incredibly smart, you are a nationally recognized young poet, you have amazing friends, you socialize easily with other people, you even bowl, and you have a sweet loving family that cares and cherishes you. You think I wanted this life? You think I wanted to live my entire life wishing I had the ability to even talk to your friend Veronica, let alone hangout with her everyday. Why did God even make me if he wanted me to live outside of society inside a bubble. Maybe, I am supposed die. Maybe, God made me to kill myself for empathy boosts for people like you Axel. You don’t think I know why you snuck me into this party? Spoiler alert, it wasn’t for me Axel. It was for you. So how about you shut your patronizing mouth, and collect your pity points.”

5000 4/08

Journal Entry 151
Axel Martin
10/29/2016
6:04PM
Dad.
I don’t know why people pity me when I tell them that I don’t talk to or see my dad.
I don’t care. He left when I was so young it really didn’t affect me. Plus, what actually do I need him for? I have a mom that has a secure job and is a healthy functioning parent. Sure, I don’t see her a lot but it’s not like we would hang out all the time if I did. I just don’t understand the need for him. Yeah sure, I get curious about him sometimes. But I’m not going to go out and play Finding Steve… the guy is an asshole. Don’t know him, don’t care. He absolutely was enamored with my mom since high school. Until once he hit college two years earlier than my mom, he split with her. Real romantic, Steve. We all know why you broke up with her just before entering college. Coincidentally enough he finally decided he knew what he wanted just as she entered college and he was close to finishing. They were together for six years before they decided to get married. Around the same time he starts to become a big deal for his literature and poetry. Two years after that they have me, and at 30 he decides he wants to reinvent his life. Really Steve? Of course, you do. The timing seems convenient for you, you have a bestselling book and a newborn son. Now is the time to leave a whole family behind in Stockton, Illinois while you go to New York City to do God knows what… Fuck you. I’m glad you’re not around. But I’d be lying to say I care enough to be mad at you. The “fuck you” is just for my mom who happens to care about you a lot more than I did. For breaking her heart,  I hope you rot in hell. For me, I couldn’t care less if you were the president of the United States or a dead hobo in the streets of Manhattan. How could I? How could you love or hate somebody you didn’t know. My grandma sometimes tells me that she sees a lot of you in me when my mom isn’t around. I disagree. I read your books, Steve. And frankly they’re not as good as everyone says. They’re alright, but mine will be better. I promise you that. I’m smarter than you, I’ll be better at writing than you, and I’ll be twice the man you’ll ever be and I mean that. How about that Steve? Sound good to you, father?
Fin
Axel Martin
7:13 PM


Here for a Good Time, Not a Long Time
“Are we going to Sarah’s halloween party tonight… I heard it’s going to be HUGE,” Veronica said excitedly.


Veronica loved parties and this wasn’t any different. Personally, Miranda and I planned to go to the museum and I preferred to do that. Although… at the same time, I wasn’t opposed to a little partying.


“I know Miranda wanted to go to the museum or something today but I really wanna go. I heard at least a hundred people were showing up. I mean it’s not like one of MY parties, but that seems super fun,” Veronica emphasized.


“No, I’ll go. I like parties,” Miranda corrected.


“I thought you and Axel were going to the museum tonight,” Ryan reminded Miranda.


Miranda gave me a look that said she had to prove something. I don’t know why she had to prove to Veronica that she could go to some stupid halloween party.
“Nah, it’s alright. We can go another time, this seems like it’ll be a good time,” I said.


“Good! So it’s decided, we all are going to Sarah’s halloween party. It’s 4:30 so I think I can find some costumes by the 8 comes around,” Veronica said cheerfully.


“...Costumes? Seriously, what are we five,” Miranda said sheepishly.


“Oh please, Miranda! Everyone will be wearing one,” Veronica pleaded.


Miranda just rolled her eyes. I could tell this was starting to be unfun for her already. To be fair though, if everyone was wearing costumes, it’d be weird if we weren’t wearing costumes. I think that was irrelevant to Miranda though. Usually she enjoys going to parties and doing this silly type of stuff like dressing up for halloween. I think she’s just a little off because our plans changed to doing this party. We went to Veronica’s house from Ryan’s to find costumes. When we got there, I noticed there was maids while the house was sparkly clean. That was odd, and Veronica didn't even seem to notice. I guess that was common for her. When Veronica’s dad saw us, he sent them home. Promptly after he gave us a quick formal but cordial greeting, and left the house. Veronica didn’t even look at him once, maybe she was too concerned about getting us costumes.


“Okay Ryan, I think you’d look absolutely perfect in this Mario costume, try it on,” Veronica said with a smile.


“This is dope Veronica, thanks,” Ryan said with a half smile.
I don’t think he would’ve cared what she pulled out. She could have pulled out a milk carton costume, and Ryan would’ve been excited to try it on. Ryan always seems like he’s satisfied with everything. However, the Mario costume did look awesome on him.


“Anddd for Miranda! Here’s a very cute pumpkin costume for you to wear,” Veronica said excitedly.


“Um… A pumpkin? Really, you want me to wear that,” Miranda sounded annoyed this time.


“Woah, since when did Miranda Frost get so concerned about what she wore… Plus this is cute, it fits your personality! But if you have a problem, choose your own. I have plenty,” Veronica compromised.


Honestly, I didn’t know what the big deal was. In my opinion, Miranda would look cute in the pumpkin costume. I mean, she’d look good in whatever she showed up as. Ever since we decided to go to this party instead of the museum she has been very easily irritated and I was starting to get concerned for her. I contemplated suggesting to her about just going to the museum and drop the whole thing. But at this point, I was excited to go now. 


“No, it’s okay. I’ll just wear this whatever,” Miranda said sheepishly again.


“Great! I’ll wear this slutty cat outfit and Axel can be Batman,” Veronica said dismissively.


We put on our costumes while Veronica just put on ‘cat makeup’ for the most part. Her cat costume consisted of black fishnet tights, a black high-waisted bikini bottom, a metal ring black bandeau, drawn on whiskers, a drawn on nose, detachable cat ears, and a long black tail that I still have no clue how it was connected.


“By the way, Tiffany, Taylor, and Trinity are coming over at 7 to pregame and we’ll uber from here,” Veronica said while finishing her makeup.


Tiffany, Taylor, and Trinity were triplets that were known for being the most stuck up, spoiled, annoying group of girls you could imagine. Basically they’re Veronica times about a million. Veronica definitely had a few snobbish traits about her but she was nowhere like the triplets. At least Veronica was smart, hardworking, not shallow, and had at least some awareness of her privilege. These girls are the worst and going to the party was at the very least of my interests.


“Oh no… Veronica please don’t, I know you like those girls but I don’t think I can handle another story of…  ‘When Tiffany got totally sooo drunk in Jamaica that she like threw up all over the beach,’” Miranda said mocking the triplets.




Ryan laughed and continued mocking the triplets.


“No, more like… ‘Oh my God that one time Taylor got sooo drunk and asked if a real cop was a male stripper.’”


Now I couldn’t help myself. I had to chime in.


“Guys it’s… ‘Remember when Trinity got sooo drunk that she called 20 Ubers at Times Square because she didn’t know what a Honda accord looks like.’”


Needless to say, we didn’t really like the triplets. Nor were we excited for them to come. Trinity once told me that she only orders Uber XL even when she’s alone because “it’s easier to identify the cars.” That’s what we’re dealing with here.     


“Well, they’re bringing the vodka for the pregame and they’re ordering the Uber for us... So they’re coming, alright?” Veronica snapped fast.


“Oh no Veronica, in that case I’ll just drive. We don’t need to Uber, I don’t even want to drink that bad,” Ryan pleaded with Veronica.


“You’re definitely drinking tonight Ryan, loosen up. It’s a party. You can deal with the triplets for about half an hour. Plus, currently, I have no alcohol on me and even though you plan on abstaining from drinking, I plan on doing just the opposite,” Veronica said firmly.


“Okay, whatever, well in that case I guess I will drink,” Ryan forfeited.


“Great! It’s a party, you should indulge a little bit,” Veronica said cheerfully.


Veronica loves drinking, I mean we all participate in that stuff… but not like Veronica. Over the years the amount she drinks has increased while the frequency remains fairly constant. Miranda and Ryan both drink less than me, though. So I guess I don’t have much room to criticize Veronica. And with that, Miranda and Ryan equally smoke more marijuana than Veronica and I. I guess we all have our vices. Veronica’s just feels more perverse and I don’t know why.


“Oh my God… you three look absolutely gorgeous,” Veronica exclaimed while opening up the door for the triplets.


To my expectations they all came dressed as Playboy bunnies. I think it was a nod to the Dahmn triplets. Which would make sense because that’s exactly who they remind me of. When they came in they were super nice to all of us there. Sometimes I wonder why we make fun of them so much in private. It’s superficial kindness, but at least they bother to make an effort.
        After a couple of rounds of shots they started sending me a heavy load of questions over the blaring house surround sound speakers Veronica set up in the background.


        “So Axel, you’re like a writer,” Tiffany asked.


        “No Tiff, he’s a poet,” Taylor corrected.


        “It’s okay, they’re like the same thi–,” I started to say before Trinity cut me off.


        “I thought he was bowler,” Trinity added.


        “He does all of those things,” Miranda shout out.


        “Oh that’s neat, we write a little bit too on our blog,” Trinity said.


        “Yeah, but mostly we just vlog because we don’t really have the time for it,” Trinity added.


        This was getting increasingly boring, and I was too drunk to act like I actually cared in the slightest. So, I just kept smiling and nodding and waited for them to stop talking. Veronica and Miranda left to camp out in Veronica’s room to “get ready” and stuck Ryan and I with the triplets. I think Veronica truly did just want them to come over for the alcohol. I mean, ever since  we finished drinking she has been completely absent. Really the only time in recent memory Miranda and her have gotten along for a long period of time.


        “Axel, have you applied to any colleges yet,” Taylor asked.


        “Yeah, I have submitted my applications to Princeton, Cornell, and University of Chicago. I’m still working on my Yale essay though,” I responded.


        “Woah those are really smart colleges, Axel, congratulations,” Trinity said with sincerity.


“Thank you,” I replied.


“We want to go to Arizona State,” Tiffany said as they all nodded.


“Oh, that’s cool for what,” Ryan asked curiously.


“We don’t know yet… but their parties are super crazy,” Trinity said as they all nodded again.


Ryan and I just paused for a minute and looked at them, until I broke the silence with a fake seal of approval, “wow, that sounds great guys!”
Just as I was contemplating going to the party with Ryan on my own, Miranda and Veronica emerged from her bedroom and instructed the triplets to order an Uber. Per usual, they ordered an Uber XL that pulled up to Veronica’s house. The Uber was a 2016 Lexus LX which had just enough room to carry all seven of us. I was shocked considering that this was just a 15 minute ride and the Uber was $65. I guess it was nothing to the triplets as they just drunkenly flirted with the driver the whole way and calling out things that they noticed out the window. I was still thinking about Miranda leaving Ryan and I with the triplets to suffer alone but I agreed to let it go because at least Miranda was getting along with Veronica. Plus, Miranda looked so damn cute with that pumpkin costume on. How could I stay mad?


When we got to Sarah’s party I noticed Chase Lentil hustling over to our uber alone.


“Hey! Ryan, Axel, wait up for a second boys.. Is it alright if I go in with you guys,” Chase asked humbly.


Ryan and I just stood there for a second. We both knew it wasn’t a good idea. Chase is a kind of quirky kid and he clearly showed up to Sarah’s uninvited. I mean, he didn’t even have a costume on or anything. He just showed up wearing Levi denim jeans and a collared shirt from Kmart.


“I don’t know if that’s a good idea Chase… maybe you should just ask her when you get to door,” I offered.


Chase didn’t say anything he just gave me a sad look. We all knew he wasn’t going to get let in naturally like that. But both Ryan and I really didn’t want to be the subject of blame for Chase being let in the party. I truly felt bad for him though, even though he was a little weird, he genuinely was a nice person.


“Yeah sure man, you can come in with us,” Ryan piped up.


Chase’s eyes glimmered when Ryan gave him permission to follow us in the party. I was beginning to question Ryan’s judgement but I decided to keep my mouth shut when I saw how excited Chase got. I wouldn’t doubt it if this was Chase’s first party, and to be honest this was a pretty big one. At least 80 people it seemed like. I wouldn’t be surprised if nobody even knew Chase was there.


“Okay Chase when we go in just stay behind us but very close, alright,” I told him.


Chase nodded and we caught back up with Veronica, Miranda, and the triplets as they headed up the long round driveway. Miranda and the triplets didn’t seem to notice that Chase was behind us, but Veronica shot Ryan and I a mean glare when she noticed him. She didn’t say anything though and everything went according to plan as one of Sarah’s friends opened the door for us to come inside with Chase huddle behind us.

3/22 2500

Journal Entry 108
Axel Martin
9/9/2016
2:06 AM
Box Me.
        I wonder why in the media black people are only portrayed as either like this militant Black Panther warrior that wear long matte black trench coats with these dorky no tint motorcycle glasses. While the latter is some type of misguided, disillusioned, modern day Uncle Tom figure that get their kicks off of appearing on Fox News to subtly imply that blacks are inherently inferior to the much preferred white man and woman. When in reality, we’re not like that, I mean look at me. Sure, I think capitalism with restraints is a sustainable economic system when governing America. However, I don’t hate my fellow black man, and I don’t support the slow systematic eradication of the perceived inferior race. Unless that race comprises of whoever the hell grows okra plants… Jesus Christ do I hate okra. I don’t even know who eats that crap, like who wakes up and thinks; “Gee, can’t wait to have some yummy okra today!” Gross… Anyways, what happened to the black people who are normal beings existing as average people? I feel like that’s the only type of black people white people enjoy seeing in the media. Who wants to go to a circus and see the elephants do normal shit like eating grass, or walking around… doing normal… elephant shit? I guess that’s the same phenomenon with black people. Even after the first BLACK president, Barack Obama, who was a great example of a normal black person. I see myself in Obama all the time, and I’m sure all the little black boys in and around Stockton see themselves as not extremities lemmatized by the media. To be fair though, Barack Obama isn’t technically black, he’s mixed. So maybe the media didn’t consider him fully black. I mean, I’m mixed too but I identify as black more often than not. Why is that though? Technically, I’m no more black than I am white, so why would I identify as black? Should I really be identifying as what other people falsely perceive my race to be, I mean, I know that I’m mixed. So the notion that I’m black and not mixed had to come from others… Not me. Wow, that’s a painful realization, and it kind of hurts too. Is that why I feel so insecure? Is that why I don’t know who I am in this dark, lonely, cosmic void of absurdity? Who knows.
Fin
Axel Martin
3:45 AM


Double Consciousness
        School actually isn’t that bad to me, I kind of like it. My African-American history is probably the worst though. I think I made a grave mistake when I sat in the front row the first day. I’m slightly known around the school for being one of the few students of our senior class to be considered for some Ivy Leagues. Plus I do a little bit of debating, and bowling for Stockton. Even when bracing for this type of recognition didn’t prepare me for this eccentric tall middle-aged white woman named Mrs. Kasey with perfect white teeth smiling in my face.


        “I know an eager learner when I see one! Would you like to introduce yourself to class Mr. Martin?!”`
        I mean, you kind of just did. But, okay.


        “Hi. I’m Axel Martin.”
       
        She waited a few moments in her excited stance after I sat down as if I was going to add something to my brief introduction. A few awkward glances were exchanged from the students and she rose up and began talking again.


“Axel forgot to add that he is applying to Yale, Princeton, and many other fantastic Ivy Leagues! Isn’t that right Axel?!”


I was blushing magenta pink now. Can black people even blush?


“Yeah,” I chirped out.


“In addition to that, he is also a national debater, an acclaimed young poet, and he bowls in his freetime! I suggest you all use Axel as a resource in this class while you can.”


Thanks lady I’ve never met. I appreciate you volunteering me as a teacher’s assistant.  I’ve hardly had times in class as embarrassing as this but I realized literally nobody was listening as I looked around. Everyone was on their phones. That made me feel a bit better. Everything was fine from then on until we started talking about W.E.B. Du Bois’s idea of double consciousness. Ms. Kasey was in the middle of explaining the concept when she turned and faced me.


“Axel, I’m sure you know a lot on this topic, would like to explain to the whole class what Du Bois’s theory on double consciousness is with that big beautiful brain of yours?”


Jesus, I’m surprised but relieved she didn’t say ‘black’ to finish that goofy alliteration. The sound of inattentive bubble-gum popping and finger tapping texting couldn’t of made me less embarrassed than I already was.


“Yeah… I don’t really know about that topic.”


I lied.


“I bet you know a lot on this topic in particular,” Mrs Kasey dragged on.


‘In particular?!’ What did that mean? I’ve known this teacher for about 45 minutes and she’s already assuming that I know everything about an African American’s theory on double consciousness?!


“How about you give it a try,” Mrs. Kasey insisted.
“I think W.E.B Du Bois’s idea of double consciousness was the idea that black Americans at time were conflicted with their identity regarding their national origin and race due to how the United States government treated blacks at the time. This idea was sparked after Du Bois’s came back from studying in Europe and saw the stark differences between how Europeans treated black people than how Americans treated Americans.”


“Wow, that was very enlightening Axel, did everyone write that down? See! I knew you knew what to say.”


“Thanks,” I muttered.


I don’t know why I gave her unfair assumption the satisfaction that I actually did know about double consciousness. I could’ve easily kept my mouth shut. Maybe it was her relentless persistence that made me talk. Or maybe I secretly wanted to talk about double consciousness. Who knows? Either way, the rest of the class went by smoother and Mrs. Kasey stopped calling on me to answer questions. I think she started to understand about my disinterest of assuming the role Encyclopedia Brown.


“Uh, Axel, can you actually stay back so we can talk for a minute,” Mrs. Kasey called out.


I couldn’t tell what she wanted to talk about. Maybe she wanted to know my position about whether to kill all white people or if we should legally allow lynchings in certain areas of the south.


“I know you didn’t want to talk that much today, and I apologize for pushing you to. However, I believe you are a great thinker and could contribute a lot of valuable information to this class,” she said sympathetically.


“Thank you for that, I hope I can be,” I said vaguely.


“You know you will,” she responded quickly.


I walked out the doors and headed for the halls. I see my best friend, Miranda, walking towards me with this weird glimmer in her eyes, and a smile that reads mischievous but innocent. Like when your dad is getting ready to tell a objectively terrible joke. I mean, I wouldn’t know because I don’t have a dad, but something like that I imagine.


“So they just let anybody in this school now,” Miranda joked.


“I could say the same thing to you, what are even you wearing,” I retorted.




Miranda is cute. She has long blonde hair, soft green eyes, and stood at 5’4 so everyone who talked to her looked down with awe at her innocent freckled face. I’ve been friends with Miranda since fifth grade, but it wasn’t until high school did we start to become as close as we are now. She was easily the person I respected most besides my mom. Miranda is regarded as “my twin” by our friends because our interests in literature, art, music, and cinema is almost identical. We can easily spend hours going back and forth from talking about the poetic fluidity of Ernest Hemingway to the deep thematic messages of Quentin Tarantino. Her mom was an author too so that was cool. Her mom often wrote about empowered women in her books and I always saw that in Miranda, while still being as vulnerable as rosemallow flower.


I noticed she was wearing non-prescription large, clear, square eyeglasses.


“Are you talking about the glasses? I thought they’d make me look smarter,” she told me.


“Well, sorry to disappoint you but you failed,” I snarked.


“Oh Senpai, I’m sorry, I only serve to please your desires. Please forgive me,” Miranda said sarcastically.


As Miranda and I were walking down the halls laughing and joking, we found our other friends Veronica and Ryan.


“Hola, thee glorious Axel and his trusty sidekick, Miranda,” Veronica exclaimed.


Miranda rolled her eyes.


Veronica was the most popular of us. Veronica is pretty slim, five-foot-eight, and considerably attractive with pitch black hair. She is super rich. Her dad owns a large investment firm in Tokyo and has amassed a significant amount of wealth. Veronica’s dad is always in and out of Japan for business and her mom is always vacationing in Florida so she throws these huge parties at her massive home pretty habitually. Then she hires the family maids to clean the house in its entirety in just under 5 hours. Veronica is a purebred Japanese girl but has the voice of any stereotypical rich white girl and almost the exact mannerisms of Paris Hilton. If I didn’t know Veronica since 8th grade, I don’t know if we’d be friends today. Not to say that’s because she’s shallow or anything like that, she’s actually a really smart person. I’d just be so nervous to talk to her.


“Only jokes love,” Veronica reassured.


“Anyways… what are we getting for lunch,” Ryan asked all of us.


I hung out with Ryan the most out of everyone in the group. He is the mediator of us, and always has something genuine to contribute. Ryan played baseball, and was exceptionally good at it too. Although you’d never know that by talking to him, he’s incredibly humble. Ryan and I have been friends the longest and up until 9th grade the friend I associated with the most. Now we see each other less and less because of baseball but we’re still close. Sometimes his dad will call me and ask to go out and a grab a bite to eat or see a movie with him. In many ways, Ryan’s dad is like that dad I never had.


“I’m feeling subway, what about you guys,” Miranda asked.


“Nah, I think I want some Panera to be honest,” I replied.


“Yeah, me too Axel,” Veronica chimed in.


“I’m cool with whatever,” Ryan added.


“Looks like Panera it is, Miranda,” I said.


“Ugh. Fine,” Miranda responded.


When we got in the car all the subtle tension from earlier evaporated as we let the windows down, blasted Grateful Dead, went an easy 100 MPH in Ryan’s Jeep. When we arrived at Panera everyone ordered their food. Miranda got bagels. She loves bagels a lot. Veronica got a salad, like always. Ryan got a big bowl of soup. As I went up for my order, someone called out my name from behind.


“Axel? Is that you,” an unknown voice asked.


I turned around to see it was a girl named Sarah. Sarah was a tall, white, blonde, volleyball player at Stockton. We were acquaintances at school but never anything more.


“Hi Sarah, what’s up,” I responded.


“Heeey, are you going to my Halloween party,” she asked.


“That’s like two months away, and you’re already planning for it,” I asked.


“Well duh... it’s going to be the best party ever,” she replied.


“I didn’t know about it, but yeah sure that sounds super fun,” I said.


I lied.


“Yeah and make sure to bring your friend, Ryan,” she enforced.


“Yeah, of course, Ryan would love to come,” I assured her.


I lied again.


“Okay cool, see you later Axel,” she concluded.


I ordered a steak and white cheddar sandwich and joined my friends to an extensive conversation about Westworld, a new series on HBO. When I got home later that day, I came back in to find my mother in her room sipping wine and hysterically laughing to Modern Family.


“Are these shows that funny,” I questioned.


“Shhh,” she snapped.


I loved my mom, she’s truly an interesting woman. When she had me she was dating a famous poet, Stephen Allen, AKA my dad. They were madly in love up until I was born. And one day he just left, saying that he was moving to New York City to start a new life. We weren’t hurt financially though, my mom had an economics degree from University of Michigan and quickly picked up a job as a finance consultant for a big corporation that sells furniture called Frolley. My mom wanted to be a writer with my dad, but that dream quickly died when he left. Sometimes I’ll catch her writing in her journal, but I never know what she’s writing. When I was little we often got weird looks because of how white she is, you would think they could just figure out that I’m mixed. But they never do.


“How was Panera? Did you get me anything,” she asked.


“Uhhh no? How would I know you wanted something,” I retorted.


“Because I love their cookies obviously,” she said.


“Well, sorry, no cookies today,” I said.


“That’s it. You’re grounded mister,” she joked.


“Did you see Steve’s interview today on the New Yorker,” I asked.


“Nope,” she said vaguely.


“Yeah he’s coming out a new book,” I told her.


“Oh,” she said quickly.


“Yeah… Well I’m going to go to bed,” I said.
“Alright honey, goodnight,” she said.


Talking about my dad was always a tough topic. I really didn’t know how she felt about him, and talking about him always made things awkward – so for the most part we just avoided it. Seeing him online a lot also made things weird for us. It was like we see a version of him that is celebrated and loved while we have been so wrongly affected by him. I mean, I could care less about the guy, but he’s no hero.