When Muffin and I walked through his door, we knew something was up. I followed Muf upstairs and to his room, and there was a note on his bed.

'Get that son of a bitch out of my house! Get a job!'

I laughed, and Muffin shoved the paper in his drawer. 

"Dude, my parents really hate you. You should get a job, bro."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm fifteen, shit head. Anyone who would hire me wouldn't pay me crap, and even if they did, it would take years before I'm old enough to live by myself."

Muffin was about to talk, when his phone buzzed. He checked, and saw a text from Chris. He smiled to himself as he replied. I looked over his shoulder.

'How'd teacher talk go?'

'Terribly. Had 2 listen bout how I'm stpd and sht.'

The text, for whatever reason, made me think about the girl's hands. I mimagined her texting me with them.

"You awake, bro?" Muffin asked, getting in my face and waving his hand. I snapped awake. 

"Hell yeah."