"The sad truth is the truth that is sad."

~ Lemony Snicket

***

The radio is playing loud again as I drive to work after school. This time it's playing a Twenty-One Pilots song:

"When the leader of the bad guys sang,
Something soft and soaked in pain,
I heard the echo from his secret hideaway..."

But this afternoon I'm not singing. It normally happens after a bad day so don't get any ideas.

The light turns red and I slow to a stop as the song blares out,
"You're the judge, oh no,
Set me free,
You're the judge, oh no,
Set me free,
I know my soul's freezing, hell's hot for good reason,
So please, take me."

The light turns green and I rev forward hoping I can get to work on time, much unlike most other days. The trees on my right fly by in a green blur, the cars on my left seemingly standing still as I drive down the four lane highway. I pray to God that I won't be late again as I've already been twice since I got the job at The Hub coffee house downtown. My job there consists of greeting people with fake smiles and making them double tall caramel frappuccinos with no caramel and extra whipped cream mixed inside, not plopped on the top, with a flat lid and purple straws instead of the signature blue ones.

I almost groan just thinking about it. I turn off the highway to one of the shopping courts off the main road where The Hub is located near a Wal-Mart and the only Goodwill store in town. The Hub is a small building, similar to Starbucks, that has a drive thru and a rather large parking lot. It has an outdoor space in front which is occupied by a few tables with blue umbrellas attached to them and speakers by the windows playing the quirky music that is controlled from Mitchell's Pandora account from his tablet inside. I pull into my parking spot and yank out my keys and bag, slamming and locking my car before rushing inside.

"Hey Cole." Says one of my co-workers, Mitchell. He graduated a year before me and we've been acquaintances since the beginning of my freshman year at South High.

"Hi Mitch." I say and I get to work beside him, tying my hair up in a ponytail and then washing my hands.

"We've got a small white chocolate mocha with steamed milk and a touch of vanilla for the old lady in the red gingham, chop chop Cole." Mitch says quickly and I nod, already steaming the milk and trying to locate our vanilla.

"White chocolate mocha for Kathy?" Mitch calls when I'm done. I bring her her order to the counter where I can see her sit up and walk over, surprisingly fast for her age.

"Small white chocolate mocha with steamed milk and a touch of vanilla." I say, trying to be as friendly as possible, which is extremely hard for someone as socially awkward as I. The old lady picks up the cup with a grateful smile and tips me, thanking me before she steps out the door.

"Colby," Mitch says next to me and I spin around. "Two large lattes one with a quarter of non-fat milk and a quarter 1% with two sprinkles of cinnamon a dash of whip and one teaspoon of coconut oil. The other one needs split quad shots - one and a half shots decaf two and a half regular - one packet of Sugar in the Raw, a dash of vanilla syrup, and heavy whip for the college sororities in the matching bitch sweaters."

I hold back a laugh, quite unsuccessfully I might add and loud enough for Mitch to hear me and start laughing himself.

"Do we even have Sugar in the Raw?" I ask as I rummage through the bottom cabinets where we keep our syrups, sugars, and coffee flavoring.

"It's in there," Mitch assures me. I grumble and search in the back with my hands, finally able to locate the huge plastic bag the sugar is packaged in.

The last thing I expect to see is sky blue eyes peeking at mine from over the food display case when I heave the sugar up on the counter.

My heart catches on my throat. Oh God.

"Well if it isn't Little Miss Brown Eyes." Says the boy, greeting me with a smile.

"I told you if you ever call me that again I'll -"

"Beat my ass?" He finishes. "Yes you've established that already I believe." I feel my cheeks flush.

"What'll it be?" I ask him, moving to the iPad to put down his order.

"Regular coffee please." He says and he pulls out his wallet.

"Will that be caffeinated or decaf?"

"Caffeinated."

"Cream or sugar?" I ask, my thumbs tapping the edge of the counter nervously. God I hate this part of the job. Where is Mitch? What with his unquestionable social skills and easy smile, I could have already gotten those stupid sorority girls their stupid quad shot, two percent caffeinated, non fat and low in calories coffees and they wouldn't be looking at me like I'm the worst person to walk the Earth.

"Just cream." He says and he looks down at my chest.

"Hey, Wonder Boy," I snap, noticing this simple movement in his light blue eyes. "Eyes up here."

He smiles and says, "Sure Colby."

I look up at him and glare. "Stalker much?" I ask. "That'll be three seventy-six." He hands me a five and says,

"I was looking at your name tag." He grins. I feel myself flush red as I give him his change. And here I was calling him out for being a pervert. Not like I have anything up on top anyway so even that was very invalid on my part. Dammit, Cole.

I hurry to make up his drink. I see that Mitch has taken over the sorority girls' drinks, working fast and hard to finish them. Thank god for Mitchell Havensdale. Otherwise I'd be beaten to a pulp by those six inch stilettos and ring studded, manicured fingers. "It fits you." The guy says and I finish his coffee, setting it down in front of him.

"Thanks." I say simply. He smiles at me and takes the coffee. "Now so I can finally address you properly, Wonder Boy, what's your name?" He gives me a smirk.

"James Maclean Thompson, at your service," He says with a small bow as he begins stepping away from the counter. "Call me Mac." He says and he takes a sip of his coffee.

"And what happens if I don't?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Mac shrugs.

"Wonder Boy is fine too." He says. I roll my eyes. He grins.

"I'll see you tomorrow Colby," he addresses me and I purse my lips. He's halfway out the door when I reply.

"Yeah okay."

Mac flashes me a smile and a wink and then he's gone. The sorority girls are looking at me like I'm a dog who just crapped on their pink, two thousand dollar rug. I ignore them and lean up against the counter listening to the funky music play throughout the coffeehouse.

"You know him?" Mitch asks me. He pops the lids on top of the college girls' drinks and calls out their order, having the bleach-blonde, stiletto-wearing, pink-nailed sorority girls clack over to the counter, all Botox duck lips and chests - gag.

"Thanks Mitch." The Barbies say in unison, one of them leaning over the counter to Mitchell, her shirt exposing a bit more than humanly necessary. The other girl picks up their drinks and sits on top of the counter, pulling down her shirt collar and pulling up her skirt to show more of her legs.

"So Mitchie," she says as she takes a dainty sip of her coffee - if you could even call it coffee. "Have you been thinking about that date yet?" The other girl snatches her drink out of her friends hand and takes a swig.

"We'd so love to hang out." She says and tosses her hair and pulls down her shirt some more. How gross. "Like, no joke."

The other girl swings herself over the counter and crosses her legs on our side. "Totally. You have absolutely no idea how boring Jake is being." She complains.

"Sorry ladies," Mitch says and I admire him for how easily he keeps his composure in spite of how ready these girls look to start taking off their clothes. "I got to work late."

"Awwww Mi-itch," complains the one who keeps pulling her shirt down. Ugh I think I'm going to need a trash can. "You really want to skip out a night with me to work?" Mitch shrugs.

"Sorry chick, boss's orders." He says. I slide off the counter when I see another customer walk in.

"Hi," I say, forcing myself to smile. "What would you like today?" I click down the order, calculate the cost and by the time I've finished making the drink, Mitch's admirers have already left.

"Saw Mac, come in here," Mitch tells me as he pushes himself up on the counter, swinging his legs off the edge like a little kid. "Do you know each other?"

I look out the door as if I could watch him walk away, but he'd left too soon. "No," I reply. "Not at all."

***

"I'm home!" I shout once I enter the house at six thirty. I pull my keys out of the handle and shut the door, swinging the keys in circles around my hands as I walk through the house.

"Hey Cole, we're in here!" Calls my mom and I make my way to the dining room where my brother Braiden, and my mom and dad are just about to serve themselves some of the tacos that my mom has made.

"Grab a plate sweetie, the taco shells are over by the stove." My mom says. I throw my keys on the counter and open the cabinet, taking out a plate, filling it with three taco shells and plopping down in the seat next to my little brother. Braiden is in ninth grade, and might I add - is one of the most good looking kids I know. He's got a mop of sandy blond hair like mine, of which he sometimes has to beg Mom to let him keep long. His pair of ice blue eyes are identical to our dad's, except Braiden's are wide with a sparkle of mischievousness. And most like other boys his age, he won't give up the Abercrombie and Fitch Clutch cologne even though it's pretty much permanently destroyed my nasal cavities.

"How was work?" My mom asks. She isn't eating dinner. She doesn't usually. She had these awful food issues that makes her skin swell to oblivion and sometimes makes her so sick she stays in bed and pukes all day. The worst part of it is that one day she's able to eat one thing and the next day, it'll make her swell so much she can hardly walk. Her diet mostly consists of vegetables and meats. No sugar. No gluten. No artificial flavoring. Just meat and veggies.

"Same old," I reply. I decide to leave out the part about Mac and the sorority girls and take a huge bite out of one of my tacos.

"Mom, you won't believe this." Braiden says with his mouth full, spitting out some lettuce onto his plate. For a kid with the best hygiene probably in the history of growing boy's hygiene, his manners are surprisingly awful.

"Bray," Mom says, closing her eyes with an annoyed look on her face. "I don't want to see a half-masticated cow flopping around in your mouth."

Braiden clamps his mouth shut, defeated, and chews for a while before swallowing.

"But Mom, you'll never guess what happened today." He says. Instantly I go rigid, my taco halfway to my mouth for another bite. I know that usually when he says this, it's either one of two things. Either he and his band of stupid boys went and pranked someone or something funny happened in PE. Or another girl asked him out. I'm prepared for the latter.

Look it may be just me, I know I'm not the most violent or most well-known person in this town, but when it comes to girls liking my little brother, my first instinct is to knock them senseless. People don't see me as the protective type. I'm not as intense and threatening as some people but hey that's not my problem. If I can act scary I will act scary, and probably accidentally scare some bystander in the process of scaring the person I'm supposed to scare. Nobody touches my little brother. Everybody knows that. Well, except for this girl obviously.

"What's her name?" I demand. Braiden and my parents look at me like I'm nuts. No, not nuts, just prepared for the worst. Thanks Caitlyn.

"Honey calm down," my mother says. "He hasn't even told us yet."

"Jennifer Page." Braiden answers as if he never heard Mom. I've never heard of a Jennifer Page. She's probably a stupid new girl. If she isn't, she wouldn't have had the guts to walk up to Colby Matthews' little brother and drop the question.

"New kid?" I ask and Braiden nods.

"Yep, and ugly too."

I try to hold in a burst of laughter and I spit all over my plate, trying to keep myself from contaminating everyone. I put a had over my mouth to hold in my laughs.

"Braiden!" Mom gasps. Bray shrugs and says,

"What it's true!" My mom looks at him, dumbfounded. My dad is shaking his head, telling him that he should never say that about anyone even if it's true.

"She's dead," I say.

"Colby stop being ridiculous." Mom scolds. Braiden looks at me, one eyebrow raised in a look that says 'she's got no clue'. Well obviously. I just love my brother.

When we've finished dinner, after a long, grueling talk between Mom and Dad about our church's finances, even though I'm pretty sure adults aren't supposed to talk about that kind of stuff in front of their kids, I was on for dish duty. My brother clears the table for me and wipes it down, ever the gentleman, and sits on top of the counter as I roll up my sleeves, turn on the water and open the dishwasher.

"Hey even though you know I don't really care if you decide to scare those girls away for me or not, you'd better know that I'll still be embarrassed if you do." Braiden says and I laugh.

"I know you don't like it dude," I say. "It's why I do it." I wink at him and he breaks out a big grin.

"Okay well you can scare off this one last girl and that it okay? I'm actually allowed to date for real tomorrow."

I snapped my fingers, remembering all of a sudden. Dammit! It's his birthday tomorrow!

"Jeez, you're right huh?" I marvel. "The big fifteen little bro! When's the quincenera?" Bray glares at me.

"I'm kidding Bray, gosh." I say, rolling my eyes and then winking at him. "Though we both know you have that fantastic dress in you're closet." Braiden flushes red.

"No I don't! Stop messing with me it's not funny, Cole!" He shouts and flicks water at my face. I laugh.

"Yes it is." I tease him and he glares at me.

I'm done with the dishes by the time my mom begins to take her shower. Bray has already left to do homework. I run the dishwasher and dry my hands and then run upstairs to my room.

My room is about average size. I had a bigger room up until I was thirteen and wanted to switch to the room with the window facing the backyard. Don't ask.

The walls of my room are painted a bright Caribbean blue, posters of Green Day (ah the good old days), Panic! At The Disco, Fall Out Boy, Shadowhunters, Teen Wolf (yes, I still watch Teen Wolf), Sherlock, The Hunger Games, and many more, hanging on the vaulted one right across from my bed. My bed is in the southeastern part of my room, the charcoal covers accenting the bright blue walls and bearing my mountains of pillows and stuffed animals. Again, don't ask.

I flop down on my bed and connect my phone to my speaker which is right next to my bed, resting on the nightstand, and turn on some clean, non-suggestive music. A few Green Day songs, one or two Fall Out Boys, a whole bunch of Kansas and Skillet. Yes I still listen to Skillet.

In fifth grade I went through a phase where Skillet was the only thing I listened to until I was twelve. Not only was it a Christian band that my parents loved and I could blast it out on my speaker without having to worry about cursing or suggestive comments, it was a lot like the bands I'd come to love over the years. I grew up listening to a lot of Kansas and Green Day and Collective Soul and Red, so I naturally ended up loving Skillet too.

Listening to them now is bringing back a lot of memories.

I roll into my stomach and grab a random book from off my nightstand, opening it up to the page where the bookmark is placed. The book is labeled This Lullaby by Sarah Dessen. I have loved Sarah Dessen since the eighth grade. Believe it or not, Caitlyn was the one who introduced me to her books, starting me off with What Happened to Goodbye and letting me move myself on to her other books such as Just Listen, The Truth About Forever, Saint Anything, and Along for the Ride. This Lullaby is one of my favorites. Though I've had a troubled past with the whole dating and love and trust thing, Dessen's books somehow always make me smile. I identify a lot with the main character, Remy, even though our attitudes our complete polar opposite. I thought it so sweet when she and Dexter worked out in the end. How he got her to believe in love even though she didn't want to admit it.

Books give you hope for better, even though better sometimes doesn't exist. They lead you to think that maybe it could've happened if you or someone else hadn't made a certain choice. Books are stories of the could have and should have and might be. They let you marvel at how unexpected life is and how it's really just choices. If my parents hadn't met, where would I be? Where would my mom be? If I hadn't trusted him, what would I be doing? What would he be doing? Would we see each other in the halls still? Would my trust issues be non-existent? Would I be hanging out with other guys as if it was all just second nature?

The only difference between books and the real life is that no matter what, there's always a happily ever after. Even in Romeo and Juliet where the hero and heroine kill themselves out of misery.

In books, there's always a happy ending. But in real life, it's unpredictable. People get shot as high schoolers. Divorced from the loves of their lives. Dismembered by the brutality of war. What about their happily ever afters? That's the only hard part about books. Sure it gives you hope for something better, but you have to realize that most times, they're only stories.