My house gate creaked as I opened it to enter my two-storey bungalow. It was not lavish like the homes you see on Teen Cribs, but it was quite spacious to fit my family- which was made up of my dad, Evan, my mother Akira, my sister, Tara and me.

I opened the front door and loosened my shoes before placing it on the rack. Determined to get some rest after a tiring day, I darted to my kitchen, hoping for a good lunch. Instead, I was treated to fried rice, cooked by my mother, Akira Mangal. She was in her mid-50s but she still had the energy of a 22-year old. Her tanned face was free of wrinkles thanks to the endless SK-II creams she kept on using, and there was no traces of white hair on her head thanks to the LOREAL dye that she kept on using since I was born.

"You’re home early," she said, "How was school today?"

"Boring and interesting." That was the standard response I gave her every afternoon, no matter how energetic or tired I was.

"How boring was it?"

"Same old morning assembly work," I told her, choosing to not mention about Rhett at all.

"What about the interesting part?"

I looked to my mother, debating whether or not to tell her about the good piece of news I had got.

"Well, I was chosen to be the head  of the school play for Teacher’s Day next month," I told my mother, earning a severe look of displeasure.

"Why would they choose you?" asked my mother in disgust.

"Madam Mallory said I have a real talent for writing. She wants me to put it to good use."

Before my mother could reply, I quickly continued.

"Plus, I’ve always dreamed of actually being in charge of something mom. It’s so frustrating to see others write half-baked plays and get lauded when I could definitely do much better than them."

My mother shook her head, being her usual pessimistic self.

"Mark," she began, as she opened her eyes wide and moved closer to me, "I want you to focus on your academics. Don’t join all this, it’s a waste of time."

My eyes rolled upon hearing my mother’s statement.

"It’s not a waste of time at all," I explained, "I’m doing something I really love."

"You shouldn’t be doing stuff that you love. That’s only going to bring you down."

I was dumbfounded by my mother’s logic.

"Do you even understand what comes out of your mouth?" I asked, my voice seething with anger. I was starting to lose my cool with my mother.

"I don’t want you to take part in the school play Mark," she said, in a voice full of melancholy, "You should be studying and not mixing with the wrong people.

"You’re crazy mom," I said, as my mom’s face turned pale, "Tara’s really loosened the screws in your head."

"Don’t talk about Tara like that!" My mother exclaimed, "She was difficult to deal with, but at least we managed to control her."

I was dumbfounded, once again. My tolerance was pushed to the limit and I lost my cool.

"Control her?" I asked, "Control her?!"

My mother was about to answer my rhetorical question, but I quickly shot back.

"You and dad had to cancel your beloved 25-year trip in London just to rescue her from the drifter," I began, "And then you had to bribe the police to put that drifter in jail. Have you forgotten all that?"

"Don’t bring up old stories Mark," protested my mother feebly, but I was in no mood to listen to her.

"You’re using ridiculous logic to prevent me from joining the school play," I yelled, "All because of what happened to Tara!"

"Nonsense!" my mother exclaimed, "I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall down the same path like her."

"Mom, Tara and I are poles apart!" I yelled, "I’m not going to make you hire bodyguards and kidnap me from the bank just to bring me home!"

"What if you did?" asked my mother suddenly and I fell silent.

She’s gone full retard, I thought.

"I’M NOT GOING TO DO THAT!" I yelled. The entire house was turning into a mosh pit between my mother and I.

"Son, I’m just trying to do the best for you."

"Well, you’re obviously doing the  worst!" I exclaimed, as my mother shot me a look of disgust, "I had to get through everything myself when Tara ran away and nearly made you and dad divorce!"

She fell silent.

"You’re crazy to think that taking part in a play would be bad for me!" I yelled.

My mother tried to spin the argument in a different way.

"That’s not true," she feebly denied, "I just don’t want you to turn gay."

I lost my cool again.

"How the fuck would I turn gay by just taking part in a school play?" I yelled at my mother.

She was speechless and chose not to speak.

"For god’s sake mother, you’re 54 but you talk like a 6-year old!" I yelled.

"Mark! Watch your language!" said my mother. Her eyes were filling with tears.

"I’m not going to watch it!" I yelled loudly, so much so that I heard glass shattering in the kitchen, "I’m taking part in the play whether you like it or not!"

As I walked my mother, I muttered the B-word under my breath. I’m quite sure my mother heard me- for I heard her bursting in tears as soon as I was out of the kitchen. Never mind, I thought. I’ll apologize for all the language later. 

I really regretted saying those foul words to her, but looking back, I couldn’t control myself. I had been seething with anger and it was the best way to deal with it.

**************************

"10 notifications," I muttered to myself as I threw my bag onto my chair and took my phone out of it, "Something interesting’s really happening on Facebook for once."

Alas, I had spoke too soon. All those 10 notifications were merely memes that my mother and father had tagged me in. 

"Lame," I muttered to myself as I continued scrolling down my news feed, hoping to find something interesting to laugh at or read. Once again, I had disappointed myself- for I was treated to endless, nonsensical memes that were not funny at all, yet were being shared by everyone else. People have no sense of humour these days.

All of a sudden, my thoughts were interrupted when my eyes fell on the ’People You May Know’ thread. Rhett Evans was there- with his beautiful face as his profile picture. I immediately clicked his profile and tried to stalk his profile as much as I could without adding him. 

"There’s nothing here." I muttered in slight frustration, "He loves keeping to himself."

Wanting to know more about him, I sent him a friend request. As soon as I did that, I immediately locked my phone.

"I’ve got to get started on the script." My slightly-overweight body was dragged out of bed thanks to a little strength I had summoned. I swiftly sat at my desk and switched on my computer, searching for ideas to write.

However, I could not find any ideas. I sighed in frustration.

I opened my Facebook again after 45 minutes of brainstorming without any ideas- only to see that Rhett had accepted my friend request half an hour ago. Goodness, that was fast!

Almost immediately after seeing that, I realized that Rhett was online. I had the sudden urge to start a conversation with him. I chose not to do so at first, and I messaged Connor instead.

Hey Connor, you there? I’ve got something to tell you.

I waited nearly an hour for Connor to reply but he did not. He’s probably busy doing chores, unlike me.  I gave in to my urges and messaged Rhett instead.

Mark: Hey man, how you’re doing?

Rhett briskly saw my message, and quickly replied.

Rhett: I’m good, just gaming that’s all.

I chose my next few words carefully.

Mark: Gaming? What game is it?

Rhett: League of Legends.

Mark: That sounds fun.

Rhett: Of course it is. You’re not a gamer?

I chuckled at seeing Rhett’s statement.

Mark: Nah. I’ve only played FIFA and GTA 5 before.

Rhett: GTA 5! Sweet! :) Who’s your favourite character?

Mark: Michael for sure.

Rhett: Michael?!

Mark: What’s wrong with that? Who’d you prefer?

Rhett: Trevor’s the MVP man! I love his craziness!

We were oddly different in our tastes, even for GTA characters.

Mark: Different people, different strokes I guess.

Rhett: Yeah :)

Mark: Anyways dude, is it okay if I ask a little help from you?

Rhett saw my message, yet took more than 15 seconds to actually reply.

Rhett: What’s up?

Mark: I’m in charge of the school play for Teacher’s Day.

Rhett: That’s really cool dude.

Mark: Yeah, but the thing is, I have no idea on how to write a story for it.

Rhett took about a minute to think his answer.

Rhett: Why don’t you write something that relates to everyone in our school?

Mark: Like what?

It took Rhett about two minutes to reply my question with a meaty and satisfying answer.

Rhett: Why don’t you write something along the lines of Mind Your Language? 

Mark: You mean that show from the 70s?

Rhett: Yea. Something like that.

Mark: Where do I go from there?

Rhett took his time to reply.

Rhett: Write about how people from different countries get trapped in an airport and they go crazy cause they can’t communicate with each other properly.

Wow, I thought. That’s a brilliant idea.

Mark: That sounds really awesome dude. Thank you so much.

Rhett: My pleasure :)

Mark: I’m serious dude. I mean, I just met you today and you’ve been such a great help.

Rhett: I love helping people. Especially you haha.

Mark: Thanks so much dude :) I’ll see you in school tomorrow.

Rhett replied with a few smiley-face emojis as well as a huge like. My mind was filled with happiness as I finally found the concept to base my play on. Without wasting any more time, I quickly got to work on the script for my play.

************************

"All this sounds really boring to me Mark," said Juliana two days later, "Putting on a play for our teachers- I’m not into all this."

"Come on Juliana." I begged her. "It’s a really great opportunity to make people notice you."

"People already know me as the hottest Spanish girl in school." said Juliana, "I don’t need to join some dumb play just to prove that."

Her remark offended me.

"It’s not a dumb play!" I exclaimed as Juliana rolled her eyes.

"It is," said Juliana defiantly, "You haven’t even told me about the plot yet."

"That’s because I just wrote it."

"Wrote what?" said a voice from behind me. It was my best friend, Connor.

"Madam Mallory just put Mark in charge of the school play for Teacher’s Day," said Juliana as I let out a sigh in frustration, "It sounds really boring Connor."

Connor disagreed.

"It sounds really cool," said Connor, as I smiled and Juliana’s face turned sour, "I suppose I’m in it, right?"

"Of course you are," I said in happiness. Connor and I smiled at each other.

"How many people do you plan to have in the play?" Connor asked.

"Fifteen people," I said, "I’m having auditions next week to recruit people from all over the school."

"Then why do you need me?" asked Juliana.

"There’s one role that suits you perfectly. The role of Isabel Cortez."

Juliana rolled her eyes as Connor laughed at my stereotypical casting.

"You think I’d be perfect to play a Spanish woman just because I’m Hispanic?" asked Juliana. I nodded foolishly. Connor however, noticed that things were about to get heated and quickly stepped in to defuse the tension.

"What’s this play called?" Connor asked.

"The Englishes." I said, earning a look of surprise from both of them.

"Sounds intriguing," he replied.

"And awful too." Juliana said, with her continued tone of pessimism, "That title is so lazy that even my eight-year old brother could come up with a better one."

Juliana’s tone of pessimism and sarcasm was getting on my nerves. She was usually witty and funny whenever she made  a remark, but this time she was plain old mean.

"I’m sorry if I couldn’t come up with a better title for the play, Juliana," I said, "But if you were on board, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to come up with something better."

Connor agreed with me, and joined me in convincing her, "Come on Juliana. It’s going to be fun."

We continued persuading her for more than 15 minutes.

"Alright fine," she declared, having enough of our persuasion, "I’ll take part in it!"

Connor and I took a deep breath, thankful that our attempts of persuading her succeeded. Right at the moment, the school bell rang.

"See you at the rehearsals on Friday afternoon!" I told her in jubilation, as Connor and I walked away from Juliana back to our classes after the end of lunch.

***********************

"I don’t know how to thank you dude." Those words flew out of my mouth as I was thankful to Connor for have successfully persuaded Juliana to join.

"Toning down on the mushiness is a way you can do that," Connor laughed as we sat at our desks in class alone, waiting for the others to return from the lab, "It’s a best bro’s job to always help out whenever in need."

I smiled at Connor.

"But you didn’t reply my message yesterday afternoon," I countered, "I needed your help but you didn’t come online at all."

Connor’s expression suddenly turned sombre.

"Dude, you know very well what I have to go through in my house the moment I get back."

I realized that I had completely forgotten about Connor’s daily struggles at home.

"Yeah," I said, feeling embarassed, "Your siblings and all."

"And it doesn’t help at all when my parents keep on blaming me whenever they or my siblings screw up," Connor explained, "I have to do damage control for everyone except myself."

Connor was starting to get sad. I noticed that tears were starting to fill his eyes.

"Everytime someone screws up, they’re always telling me ’It’s your fault Connor! Why can’t you educate your siblings’ just because I’m the eldest in the family!" Connor exclaimed, as he almost burst into tears, "And you’re angry at me for not replying?"

"I’m sorry Connor, I really am," I apologized, as Connor toned down his emotions, "I was really selfish about all this. I didn’t mean to offend you."

"It’s okay," Connor replied, "I just got a little emotional, that’s all. I’m not angry at all."

Connor smiled to reassure me that he was okay.

"You’re my best friend dude," he declared, "I’d never get angry at you even if you hid something from me."

"I’d never hide anything from you, Connor." I replied. "You’re the only person in the whole school who understands me as the narcissist. I never want to lose that."

Connor and I smiled at each other.

"Don’t worry about things at home, alright?" I told him, "We’ll get through this."

I extended my hands to Connor, who tightly grasped it.

"I’m so lucky to have you as my best friend, Connor," I told him.

"I’m lucky to have you too," he replied back. 

We smiled at each other. I was about to say something when the other students in my class returned with the teacher for the next period. Next time then, I thought.