"Thanks so much for letting me hang out," You say to Jason as you dig around in your locker, shoving away your science books and pulling out your backpack and roller skates, "I was really worried that I'd be, like, lonely and stuff." You shrug, and Jason makes a sound close to a sympathetic coo. You close your locker door and turn to him as he does the same, watching as he signs something out to you.

Y O U D M A K E F R I E N D S E I T H E R W A Y

You shrug one shoulder, slinging your backpack over the other, and let out a hum. You weren't sure if he was being entirely honest; he seemed like the warm kind of guy who would do whatever he could to brighten your mood. If it hadn't been for his kindness earlier in the day you would probably be alone.

"That's kind of you to say, Jason," You grin at him, and then Michael appears from the crowd and doesn't even bat an eye in your direction.

"Gotta get Laurie." His voice is strange to hear after a day of him in silence, gruff and low and hardly anything more than a mumble. Jason nods his head, turns back to you, and quickly signs out,

G T G S E E Y O U T M R W

With a last smile and a last wave Michael drags Jason away and you're left to head home yourself. With a contented sigh, you spin on your heel and head for the nearest exit doors, ones just down the hall that Norman had pointed you towards as you'd asked for their location. The other students cleared out pretty fast, eager to get home and do whatever people in small towns do, so you weren't being shoved and pushed from all sides like you had been during the day. The low talking of those who remained and the steady ticking of one of the many clocks on the walls was nice, reminiscent of your old school back in New York. You pushed your way through the heavy doors out onto the concrete landing on the other side, where three stone steps would take you to an unkempt sidewalk and then spill you out onto a residential street. You stepped aside, out of the doors' way, and began to tug at the laces on your shoes to replace them with your transportation. With them off, you slipped your foot into your left skate, fighting to keep your balance as you tied it back up. You probably should have sat on the steps to do this, but now your pride too big for you to tamp down and you were absolutely going to finish this all standing up.

"Come on..." You grumbled to yourself, finally looping the strings together with a triumphant huff. As you stood up straight to give your back a momentary break the doors swung open and out walked a familiar boy in a leather jacket. He didn't even notice you, but you felt the sudden urge to apologize for whatever you did wrong earlier in the morning. "Hey, wait!" You called out, and he glanced over his shoulder, stopping once recognition spread like frost over his features. His shoulders lifted with a deep breath and slumped with a sigh, and he jammed his hands into his pockets, lifting his brows as a silent, unimpressed 'continue'. "I just wanted to- hold on," You try to hobble forwards with one foot on wheels and the other flat on the ground, almost losing your footing entirely and decided to just stay in place. "I just wanted to say sorry if I bothered you this morning or something. I don't want anyone here to hate me or anything like that, so... yeah, uh, sorry."

"You look ridiculous." For the first time you heard his voice, flat with a thin lace of amusement. You glanced down again at your one-skate-one-sock predicament and flashed an awkward smile.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." The boy spun on his heel to wander away, but you weren't done talking just yet, "Hold on a sec!" You shout, but he continues on nonetheless. With a groan, your determination wins over and you begin to hobble forwards once more, tripping down the steps and skate-jogging to catch up to him. "You didn't accept my apology! Come on, just, like, I don't know- say you're not mad? If you don't my brain'll spiral and-" You settled into something almost bearable, as if you were on a skateboard- push, glide, push, glide, "I barely know you and I don't want all chances of being cool with each other thrown out the window-"

"We're not gonna be cool with each other. Do you think you know who I am?" The boy stops, spinning on his heel, and you don't have enough time to do the same, your rhythm already in motion. You jam your non-wheeled foot against the ground in a desperate attempt to try and stop yourself from crashing right into him but the efforts are meaningless- as if you're some cliché girl in romance movie you collide with him, hard. The only difference here is that instead of him saving the day and catching you with his big strong arms he loses his footing as well and you both go crashing to the ground. Your jaw knocks with your upper teeth, sending pain shooting through your skull as your knee slams into his stomach, drawing out a groan.

"Shit, shit I'm sorry I-" You try to scramble a step away, fighting for your feet as he sits up and clutches his stomach, sending you a chilly glare. "I didn't mean to do that, you just kinda stopped and-"

"Just shut the hell up, Jesus Christ," The boy sounds breathless as he gets his feet back under him, brushing himself off and straightening his jacket out once more. He stares down at you, grimacing, and doesn't even offer his hand to help you up. He rolls his eyes and, yet again, tries to leave. Something sour pecks at your stomach, squeezing your insides painfully. It's frustration, sudden and gross and poisonous. A few beats pass and then you snap out your words, your brain clicking onto a hazy autopilot.

"You're a bit of an asshole, you know?" You've practiced this, you can stand up just fine you hope, "I mean, I really shouldn't have even bothered apologizing in the first place. I didn't really need to." The boy is still walking, albeit slower now, his head turned slightly to you, "I was just trying to ask how to navigate this stupid fucking school," You plant your free foot on the concrete, pushing up with all your might and lean on the skate's toe stop, "Yet I tried to say sorry anyways and this is how you react?" You scoff, and the boy finally comes to a halt. "Come on man, have some decency why don't you? Jesus," You brush your clothing off, glaring at his back. "And to answer your earlier question? You're a stuck up dick is who I think you are. Have a great goddamn day." You spin on your heel and push-glide back in the direction of the stairs without another word. You can feel his gaze burning into you, acidic and arrogant, but you ignore it and clamber back up the steps more easily than you had gotten down in your rush. The frustration in the pit of your stomach bleeds away and is replaced by something a little like regret- you think that maybe you were a little too rude but sometimes your temper gets the better of you. That's something you got from your mother. She'd always been a little bitchy. Right now, all you wanted was to get home and start unpacking your boxes and boxes of stuff, so you sat down heavily on the concrete steps and reached for your other roller skate.

"Danny!" A girl's voice rang across the grassy fields, and you glanced up only briefly to see the source of it. You could make out dark hair and, just like the other guy, a black leather jacket. As she came closer you also spotted the dark red shirt she had on underneath, the grey cargo pants, and the small red spiral embroidered onto the breast pocket of the coat. "Sorry for the wait, man, let's move." Danny- that was the name of the dick boy you'd yelled at. He passed you one last glance and then punched the other girl lightly in the shoulder, nodding his head for her to follow. Together, the two made for the gap in the chain link fence towards two pristine motorcycles. You pulled your other skate onto your foot, did up the laces and jammed your other shoes into your backpack. Pushing yourself to your feet, you didn't waste another second before pushing forwards and settling into the routine movements you knew well by now. As you breezed past Danny and the dark haired girl with ease you felt his gaze trail after you once more- grinning to yourself and feeling a little cocky after the whole humiliating yourself escapade, you moved out into the road and spun into a perfect 360, feeling your hair dance in the breeze. Exhilaration trilled through you, and a sense of flying pressed around your heart as it always did when you did one of those. With a new smile plastered over your face you continued your smooth glide home, doing your best to forget the altercation just minutes before.

***

Today, when you arrived at your home you spotted your neighbor for the very first time. He was sitting on his porch, his hair a mass of pecan brown tangles, a thick green turtleneck sweater pulled over his head despite the sunny weather and a fluffy white cat with a smooshed face curled up on his lap. He eyed you steadily, curiously, as you slowed to a halt at the curb up to your sidewalk, stepping carefully up onto it. You smile at him and wave, watching as he pauses in petting the cat in his lap and slowly raises a hand to wave back.

"Is that your cat?" You call to him, and he clasps his hands together, one foot beginning to tap a quick beat on the wooden porch steps. He darts his gaze down to the cat and nods his head quickly. "They're really cute."

"You can-" The boy swallows, petting the cat and trying to find his words again, "You can pet him if you want to. He's nice. Nice kitty." Slow, you skate forwards, coming to a stop and kneeling down in front of the cat to ran your fingers along his fluffy head. His eyes flutter shut and a rumbling purr escapes him, dragging a chuckle from the boy. "You can- sit, if you'd like."

"What's his name?" You ask, scooting over to sit at your neighbor's side.

"Claude." The boy began to rock back and forth gently, his foot stilling. You heard him start to hum. "You're... neighbor. The new neighbor. Right?"

"Yeah," You scratch the cat behind his fuzzy ears, still listening to his rumbling purrs and smiling softly to yourself, "My name's (Y/N). What's yours?" For a moment, the boy is silent, his lip caught between his teeth and his brows screwed together as he fought for the words he was trying to force out. He balled his fists together, one second passing, and then two, and then three.

"Shit," He spat the word out, and then his brows relaxed and he let out a little puff of air. "Billy, I'm Billy. I get words stuck sometimes. Forget things." You let out a light chuckle, pulling your hand away from the cat who was now sinking into a light doze.

"That's alright. Nice to meet you, Billy. Do you have any family? I've got a little brother. He's fourteen, and he's named August." Planting your hands behind you, you lean backwards and tilt your head upwards to bask in the sunlight. You see Billy nod his head, glancing quickly over his shoulder towards his home.

"I have my sister. She's Agnes. That sounds- kind of like August, right? Billy- I mean I think it does." As Billy opened his mouth to speak again a man's voice called from inside of his house.

"Billy!" Billy sat up straight, blinking as if just remembering something.

"I have to go. I have homework." He plucked the cat from his lap, moved him aside to set on the warm porch steps, and rose to his feet. "See you."

"Bye, Billy. Nice to meet you." You offer a wave and his gaze catches yours for a moment, and then he scurries inside. Claude stays in the exact same spot curled into a small, fluffy ball to soak in the rays just like you had been. "Bye bye, Claude," You pat his little head one more time and move to your feet, pushing forwards and skating the last few strides to your own front lawn. The door is unlocked- it always is, since your dad is always home- and you push it open and stagger the last unstable steps inside. Now, you drop to your knees and untie your laces, slipping off one skate at a time and setting them neatly aside.

"Who's there?" Your dad was down in the basement either painting or sketching or something of the sort, and you call back as you let your backpack drop to the floor.

"An axe murderer! I'm here for your head! I'm gonna make a true crime case out of you!" Your feet carry you to the kitchen, which is all unpacked and astoundingly organized. There isn't a box in sight; you turn to the living room to see the same thing. As you hear the distant, thumping footsteps of your dad ascending the stairs you say, "You sure were busy today. The place looks great! Like a damn show home."

"Well thank you, my dear," Your father reached the top of the stairs and sunk into a deep, regal bow. "You should come take a look at what I'm working on later. Oh, it's the piece of the century! Gorgeous, I tell you! There are leftover pancakes, by the way. Eat 'em up, I don't want them in there." Your dad was wearing a painters smock spattered in every colour of the rainbow. You pulled open the fridge and- wow, okay, even the fridge was organized with empty crates and dividers- spotted the pancakes immediately. You fished them out, took off the Tupperware lid, and chose to eat them cold. You could see the small four person dining table set up and clean, but you hopped up onto the counter and ate there instead.

"What are you painting? I'll come see it later."

"My theme, if you will, is rebirth. Fitting, right? Since we're starting a whole new chapter of our lives? So, picture a phoenix, but a rainbow one because-" Your father gestured to himself, an open bisexual, "-and it's springing from a pile of ash. It'll be awesome. I'm gonna try some cool stuff with texturing in the feathers and-" Your dad cut himself off, held out the palms of his hands, and stopped his rambling. "My bad. It was your first day of school here, you should be the one ranting on. How was it?" Your dad jumped up to sit right beside you, stealing a cold pancake from the container, "Did you meet anyone? Any cute boys? Any cute girls? Any cute teachers?" You roll your eyes so hard they could have fallen out of your head and jam the rest of your pancake into your mouth.

"No, dad, I didn't meet anyone for you to hit on. I met a few nice kids that let me hang out with them." Your dad gasped around a mouthful of food, jamming his elbow into your ribs.

"Tell me about 'em, come on! What're their names?"

"There's Jason, Michael, Norman and Brahms. They all have classes with me." You leave out any details of Danny. Letting out a hum, your dad swipes another pancake and jumps back to the hardwood floor just as the front door opens and your brother steps in with his skateboard under one arm and his backpack slung over the other.

"August, get over here and tease your sibling. They met a bunch of boys." Now August was getting up in your face, stealing the last pancake and poking his finger into your ribs with a grin that stretched from ear to ear and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Boooooys huh? What, are they cute? What are their names?" You pushed August away with your foot, snapping out a hand and swiping the pancake right from him, and scoffed out,

"You and dad are literally the same person. I'm going up to my room to unpack, don't mind the music. I get to deafen us all tonight-" You point an accusatory finger at your father, "That means no classical unless you're in the basement."

"Gee, mom, sure thing!" Wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead your dad stumbled a scared step backwards, "Just don't yell at me!" With a bout of laughter and a grin you hurried away with your last pancake off towards your brand new room. The thing that's probably the most important is setting up your bed, but that took a screwdriver and too much hard work so you opted to make your dad help you with it later on in the evening. Instead, you pushed the boxes out of your closet and searched around for your massive collection of hangers. You had a dark wood dresser with a mirror perched on top and about a billion posters to paste on the walls, too. Tonight would be a busy night with plentiful tape. In your search for the hangers you found your record player, a fancy old thing that your dad had grown up with, and the collection of records you've listened through many a time. Pulling out a record haphazardly (you knew all the songs, but not the names or the artists) you placed the vinyl in it's place and shifted the arm to rest on it's shiny black surface. No more than a few seconds later the tune of a rock song flowed from the speakers and you got to work.

The hangers ended up being in a box underneath the one your vinyls had been in, and hanging up your shirts, sweaters and other top pieces happened over the course of twenty good minutes. The first side of the record came to a close and you flipped it, set the arm, and started folding your bottoms and organizing socks and underwear. Just as the second side of the record finished and you got it put away and replaced August barged in, shouting over the music,

"Me and dad are going to the store! He wants to stock the fridge!" You shoot him a thumbs up and he's gone again just like that, leaving you in the house alone. With no one to bother you turn the music up even louder, shouting along to whatever lyrics you could remember. Your closet looked great, actually, tidier than it has been in decades and all of your pants were neat and tidy all the same. With clothes out of the way you kicked the cardboard boxes into the hall and turned to where you had rolls and rolls of posters and three things of scotch tape. Oh, you loved your posters- collecting them was as much of a hobby as was collecting patches for your denim jacket. You had ones for movies you'd seen, bands you listened to, and things that simply looked cool. There were even a few from video games you'd never even played or heard of. Strip of tape after strip of tape you stuck them to the wall one at a time, watching the white paint covered by the hundreds of different colors and pictures. It took you longer than you'd anticipated, going through three whole records. Though you hadn't been keeping track of time you guessed it was a little over an hour before you were finally finished. As you started with tossing your little nick knacks over the surface of your dresser and fitting your vinyls into the decorative milk crate you stored them in your father returned home, August disappeared into his room to organize his things, and the sweet smell of your father's homemade pho tickled tantalizingly at your nose.

It was no time at all before he was shouting over your still-cranked music and summoning you and your brother for dinner. With one final look around your room- which was almost all put together except for a few other random things and the bedframe- you let out a satisfied hum, lifted the arm of your record player, and skipped away towards the kitchen. As you came out of your room August came out of his. You shared one simple glance and then you were both sprinting for the kitchen, racing to get the first bowl of pho of the evening. August was winning (you hated that he was faster than you) so you pulled out the dirtiest trick in the book, reaching forwards and grabbing onto the back of his shirt to tug him to your side and push past him.

"Hey!!" He shouted, reaching to grab at you in return, "You asshole!"

"Watch the tongue!" Your dad scolded from his place dishing up broth at the stove, but you didn't care to mock your brother for being lectured. You had made it, of course, cheating or not, and you swiped your bowl from your dad's hand just as he held it up to you. You sink into your seat at the table, triumphant. Only once both August and your father sat down did you strike up a conversation, kicking August in the leg just to rub in the fact that you had won the race.

"I need you to build me my bed. I don't know what pieces go where." That was 90% a lie, but your father shrugged his shoulders and agreed with a smile. "Oh!" You remembered, not giving him a chance to answer back, "And I talked to the neighbors kid today! Billy is his name. He's pretty cool!"

"Oh, yeah? I saw him sitting out there on the way out with August, he's a strange one."

"Did you see his cat? It was huge! I didn't know housecats were so big!" August accented his words with an impolite slurping sound as he sucked broth from his spoon.

"The cat's named Claude and he's the cutest cat ever," You grinned wide and turned to your own food. Dinner leaped from one topic to the next, first August asking (for the millionth time) for a cat of his own and then to allergies and then to August's school, where his newest friend has a peanut allergy. You polish off one bowl of pho and then a second, then you pestered your dad into building your bed and helping you put your mattress on top of it. When you ended up going to sleep that night, for the oddest, oddest reason, you couldn't stop thinking of Danny, no matter how hard you tried. It drove you insane.

(A/N): I try my hardest to remember to make the reader gender neutral but forgive me- sometimes I forget. I'm so used to writing female readers it's hard to break the habit! I'm also trying so so hard to make the readers family interesting, and I really hope I got it to work omg- For those of you who might not know, the Billy in this chapter is Billy Lenz from (the original) Black Christmas. I love him. I personally believe that his canon character has Autism, so I'm doing my very very very best to portray that here and I pray that I'm presenting it correctly! Please tell me if I ever do anything wrong or exaggerated or anything of the sort, that's the last thing I want! Thanks for reading, I hope you are enjoying this story so far because I know I am!

Edit: I hate when my titles don't save. Sorry for those of you who saw this as untitled ugh