Chemically Imbalanced

Celebrations

After what felt like an unbearable long and death taunting car ride, Bree finally pulls up to a long driveway leading up to an old house, look don't get me wrong. I don't mean old as in cracked up walls, forgotten garden, and all that.

I'm talking big gardens, 2 story mansion, gorgeous fountains, the greenest grass, any cow would jump over a fence for.

Comparing this to my house would make my house seem like a shit show.
It is a shitshow, but this would just be embarrassing.

  "Don't let the looks fool you. The bank owns most of it." 

I relise how crooked I have been bending my neck to stare up at the second floor through the windscreen.

"Huh?"

She shakes her head as she cuts off the engine once were lined up next to the newest Mercedes.

Money, money, money, must be funny.....

"Get out loser."

She hops out of the car and I don't hesitate to follow close behind.

"So this is your-"

"Happy birthdayyyyy!"
A choir of people sound out simultaneously. Nearly scaring Bree to death and bewilderring me even more so. As if being a drug addict in a million dollar home, of the girl I just met, wasn't bad enough allready.

"Mom..... I told you no surprises and no celebration. You know I hate it."

Her mother thows me an uncertain glance  before walking with her arms stretched out in Bree's direction.

She folds her arms around Bree in a protective manner.

"Who is your friend, honey?"

Her eyes scan me again and again as she waits for reassurance from Bree that no im not dangerous and I won't hurt.... them? Im just guessing here.
I know my appearance isn't the most welcoming and probably not selling the whole "Hi, I'm a happy friendly person!" Thing.

I look sick and I know it. But the looks people give me still hurt.
As if they don't have faults.
As if they don't screw up.
As if their addictions or them cheating on their wifes aren't nearly as bad as mine.
Face it addiction stays addiction. No matter what form it takes. 

I can feel myself shrinking infront of her vicious eyes, allready tearing me apart. Making her little assumptions that I know will stick for life. Great I made a new friend and her parents hate me allready.

Bee gently shakes her mother's arms from her and slips away, meeting me at my side. Her brows furrow together and her eyes fall down to her feet. She lifts herself onto her tippy toes and then leans agains me hoocking her arm over my one sholder....

A little smile creeps up on my face....
I hadn't kept in mind how short she was. And me being 6ft 7" didn't help it much.

"This is Lucas. He's my friend. We met today at campus."

Glad she left out the part where she helped me run from the cops.

I reach out my hand twords her mother receiving a raised eyebrow in response.
"Nice to meet you Miss...."

It occurred to me just then that I had no idea what their last names are.

"Keller." Her Dad step foward from the small crowd and reaches his hand out to me.

Bree glances up at me with a smile curling at the corner of her lips. This was good. She was happy.

Nice to meet you Sir. We give eachother a firm handshake.
I could tell we both only did this for Bree's sake. But that was enough for us.

"Well were heading upstairs!"

Her hand slips into mine, shivers run down my spine but I have never felt a warmer feeling than this.

"No you are not! Brea! All of these people came here for you. To celebrate with you.... please.... this is your first birthday since you went into remission."

Remission? Shit. Thats like a word for like sortof not being sick anymore right?

Her mothers words stops her in her tracks and she abruptly turns to face her mother.

"Mom..." she lets out through gritted teeth, nodding her head in my direction.

"Well, honey. He would of found out soon enough..."
She explains it as if this would make the situation better.

No shit your daughter's upset with you.

Bree takes in all the familiar faces gathered around one of those picture perfect birthday cakes, the room perfectly decorated, presents stacked up on a table.

Man, I so do not fit in here. For my birthday Caleb and I shared a coke.
And no. I don't mean substances. I mean like a soda.

Bree turns to look at me. Her silver eyes captivating me once more.

"Fine. But, Lucas, gets to stay."