Disclaimer - Everything here in is complete fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. All situations are a product of the authors mind, and is not intended for those who do not like gay fiction, nor is it intended for those under age or where such material is not legal. Other wise, have fun and enjoy.
Nothing Worth Having is Ever Easy
Chapter 1: Lies
You could call him the bane of my existence, and the center of all my attention whenever he's around. Oh I hate him, make no mistake, I hate him so much I want to scream, but that would make me look pretty stupid wouldn't it. Why do I hate him? Maybe its because he's one of the most popular guys in school (and when I say one, I mean he's not the top dog). Maybe its because his parents have more money then they know what to do with, and so he's driven a brand new car for the last three years. Maybe its because he's dating Mandy Perkins, the captain of the cheerleading squad. Maybe its because he's 2nd quarterback of the varsity football team, captain of the track and swim teams, and not to mention on the baseball team. Maybe its because he's a straight A student and I'm lucky to pass with C's. Maybe its because even his name is perfect; Clayton Anthony Johnson, other wise known as Clay around school. Maybe its because in my eyes he's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen on two legs.
Or maybe it's all of the above. The bastard is Perfect, with a capital "P", and it drives me nuts. More so because when they aren't doing it to the more popular guys, everyone fauns over him, falling at his feet like he's hot shit, when really he's nothing more than an overachieving pretty boy, who also happens to be good at sports. I think the worst part is that in his world, I am nothing but a face in the hall, one that he happens to shove out of his way when he finds the spare moment.
It's enough to make me want to gag.
We're both seniors, and go to Page High School, though we went to different middle schools and elementary schools, so I've only known of him since freshman year, and even back then he was one of those people who you notice the moment they walk into your line of sight. Even back then he was tall, though he's grown several inches over the last couple of years, he still looks roughly the same. He's got that hair that's somewhere between silver and white, cut short and spiked. His eyes are a mix of blue and green, and even his skin is perfectly smooth and unblemished, if I didn't know any better, I'd say the idiot shaved his arms and legs year round. Obviously he's got an athletic build, and he towers over me at six foot three.
Can you understand why I hate him so much? He's Prefect, and need you forget with a capital "P".
In the last three years of school, I haven't had one class with him, but this year I have two, Ceramics first period, and Drawing sixth period, right after lunch, and he's also a good artist. I think God went a little overboard when he pieced Clay together, because in all honesty, there are other, more needy people who could use some of that perfection.
Now, where Clay ignores me, his friend Bobby Ray (is that not the gayest name you've ever heard? I mean honestly, maybe if we lived in Alabama or something it would make sense, but this is the High Desert of California for crying out loud!) loves to make my life hell. He's big just like Clay, only he has brown hair and eyes, and is a prick. Why he's as popular as Clay is still a mystery that is yet to be solved.
Bobby Ray made it a point every morning and afternoon to drive by me as I walked to school to throw something like a rock, or a pencil at me. Once he threw his Algebra book at me and got after school detention for a week, and that was only because he damaged school property. The school administration overlooked the fact that he hit a fellow student in the head with it, but since he's the 1st quarterback, they make oversights, which is totally understandable -if you life in the Middle East, where injustice runs amok, but I digress.
So here it is, the first of November, and only sixteen days until my 18th birthday. The excitement I feel cannot be contained with in me at the thought of spending the day, as any other, alone. One of the great things about middle school is that from the first day, everyone is labeled in some way or another, and one that glorious day I was named the class FAG. Mind you, there were plenty of other candidates I'm sure, but I get to carry the title proudly.
I think not.
I'll never understand why I got the label, but I did, and I've been alone ever since, and it seems that even the girls wont be seen with me, let alone talk to me. The guys are bad enough, but when the ladies are complaining to teachers about doing projects with me, or even sitting beside me, you know you've been marked as the resident out cast. I don't understand it, because I don't see anything different about me from my peers, that's just the way it works out.
It's always given me plenty of free time to read, listen to music, and do the one thing above all others that gives me solace, writing. Be it Fantasy, Science Fiction or Horror, reading or writing, those are my places where I love to be. It gets me out of my normal life for a few hours, and that's always a good thing.
See by now, I'm basically invisible, except to morons like Bobby Ray, and even his antics have died down since last year, so I basically assumed I'd pass through this year unseen, graduate, and get out of this town. My mom's parents have offered to let me stay with them in Phoenix, Arizona while I go learn to take over my grandparent's antique shop. It sounds so gay when you read it here, but it's good money, and it'll allow me to write, and work towards getting published, so I feel it's worth it.
My day had been pretty uneventful; I passed lunch by sitting in my corner of Mr. Thornton's Drawing class, working on one of three books I'm writing, and as the first bell rang I got my stuff out, and turned the music on my CD player up, to drown out the noise of my classmates coming in. Since I don't have a computer, and my parents can't afford one, I content myself with CD's while most other kids have MP3 Players or IPODs. What I liked about Mr. Thornton (otherwise known as Mr. T) was that he let the kids in his class do their thing, while he did his thing on the computer. The man is a real nerd when it comes to computer graphics, and its hard enough for him to break away from his desk long enough to take role and make sure everyone is working on their project. Sometimes I think he's jerkin off over their in his little cubicle, but that would just be gross. Not only is he in his forties, but also the man is harrier than a bear. The thought is enough to make you impotent for the rest of your life.
Now, I forgot, as I tend to, that today was a day when, in addition to our currant projects, that was a drawing of a still life, or some kind of geometric piece, we would be doing partner-project. And Mr. T was going to be picking the partners. I bet you can see where this is going hugh? Me and Clay are going to be partnered, right? Well, first of all, I had my music up loud, and was completely ignoring the world around me, until I got tapped on the shoulder, and looked up to see everyone was looking at me, and Mr. T looking rather annoyed that I was wasting his masturbation time. And to make sixth period even more nightmarish, Bobby Ray, Mandy Perkins and several of their friends were in the class along with Clay. Oh the joy of my life.
"Are you with us now, Mr. Ross?" he asked after I pulled my headphones off my head and I nodded. "Good, perhaps in the future you will be so kind as to wait until I'm done giving out instructions at the beginning of class before losing yourself. Otherwise, the rest of the class will lose their music privileges. Is that clear, Mr. Ross?"
I nodded silently, staring down at the drawing table, my face burning in embarrassment as others glared or snickered at me. The only thing I don't like about the guy is that I'm as invisible to him as I am to everyone else. The man doesn't even use my first name like he does with the other students. It's always "Mr. Ross," never Ash, or Ashton. Though come to think of it, I think the only time I hear either of those names its usually from a teacher, and even then, it's only once a month, if that.
"Alright, now that everyone is with us, your partner assignments." He started reading off a list of names, randomly placing people together, and as such, students had to move around to sit beside their collaborator. I tuned him out, at least until I heard my name. "Mr. Ross, and Bobby Ray."
It felt like a bucket of ice had been thrown on me, as I looked across the room at the older boy, who began protesting instantly.
"No way, Mr. T! I aint working with no faggot! It's bad enough he stares at me between classes, I don't want him staring at me all through class just so he can draw me."
"Like I'd want to stare at your ugly face," I mumble, though no one was paying any attention to me.
If Bobby Ray wasn't such a prick, maybe he could be considered good looking, but to me his whole persona made him as ugly as Bigfoot.
"Now, Bobby Ray, language please. My choice is final, and whether you like it or not, he's your partner, and I don't want to hear another word about it. There is an even number of people in this class, so it works out perfectly. Mr. Ross, if you would please move beside Bobby Ray."
Scowling at the floor and not meeting anyone else's gaze I did as I was told, though I made sure I was as far from Bobby Ray as was humanly possible.
"Alright, get to work!" Mr. T said, and he went back to his desk, engrossing himself in his "computers".
Bobby Ray was grumbling to Clay and the rest of their group, saying shit I didn't even want to hear, so I put my headphones back on and contented myself in my geometric project. Five minutes later, I got thumbed on the shoulder and looked up to see Bobby Ray glaring at me, Mr. Thornton shaking his head in disappointment, and the rest of the class giving me looks that could kill. Again I took my headphones off.
"Well Mr. Ross, you've made it so that no one in hear can enjoy the pleasure of music. Ignoring your partner and your assignment will not be tolerated."
Now, normally, I usually role with the punches, keep my head low, and try not to be seen, but Mr. Thornton had embarrassed me twice now, not to mention made me work with some one who embarrassed me as well, I had had it.
"Then maybe I shouldn't be in this class anymore," I said, shoving my CD player into my bag, along with my notebook. "God knows I wouldn't want to be the kink in your smoothly running chain."
"Now see here Mr. Ross, I will not-"
I cut him off. "My name is Ash or Ashton, pick one. You say 'Mr. Ross' and I look for my dad. You know everyone else's name but mine, I find that interesting. If the dumb jock doesn't want to work with me, as I'm sure no one else in here does, and I seem to cause such a problem, I just wont be here."
I turned around and started for the door.
"Mr. Ross . . . I mean, Ashton! Come back here now! "
I stopped and looked over my shoulder. "Why? What's the point? I'm not wanted in this class, let alone their school. Fuck it, I don't need this, I can get the credit in night school. At least there I'll be invisible for a real reason, because no one will know me, not because of some stupid rumor that's been spread since the 7th fucking grade!" I glared at some of my classmates, who I noticed with some satisfaction hung their heads (in shame?) "I don't need it, I don't deserve it, and I wont take it anymore. Fuck all of you."
And I walked out, leaving Mr. T, and more importantly, Bobby Ray, Clay and their whole group sputtering as I slammed the door.
The adrenaline was pumping through my veins as I stormed away from the art building and to the lockers. I grabbed the books for my Math and History classes that I had seventh and eighth period, and went to the library. I started to write again, ignoring a class of freshman who was there for whatever reason, and waited for the period to be over.
I hate Bobby Ray, almost as much as I hated Clay, but I hated Clay more. The ignoramus just sat there and stared at me all through the whole affair like he had never seen me before. God I hated them both!
During my last class I got called to the principles office, and when I got there, I found that my guidance councilor and Mr. T was there as well. All three of them had deep, grave looks on their faces, and maybe it was left over emotion from my confrontation during Drawing that I went in there on the defense, which in retrospect was not the smartest thing I could have done.
"So, Mr. Ross," Principle Byre began, and I swear that set me on edge even more. "I understand that you caused a scene during sixth period, then walked out of class. Is this true?"
"Yep," I replied, sitting back and crossing my arms.
"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in my office before today. In fact, come to think of it, I don't think I've ever even heard of you until twenty minutes ago. Your file shows you're a decent student, never been in trouble, no fights, no reason to be seen by me, or the Vice Principle, or even the Dean of Students."
"So?" I asked, staring at him, finding all this pointless.
"Well, coming in here with an attitude isn't going to solve anything. You're here because what you did was wrong, but we also want to try and fix what ever the problem is."
"Let me drop the class and make it up in night school," I said, "I won't be in Thornton's class, and I won't have to deal with the crap that goes with it."
Mr. Byre shook his head at me. "Taking you out of the class isn't going to fix the underlying issue, son. Every student has to go to each class, regardless if they don't like it. Need I remind you, you've taken this particular class three years in a row?"
I harrumphed. "Yeah, and in three years Mr. T still doesn't know my name."
"That is fair, Ash," Mr. Thornton said. "I know your name, I'm just used to calling you by your surname. For that I apologize."
"Whatever," I said.
"Look, Ash," my guidance councilor, Mrs. Owen said. "We just want to help. Why did you say what you said? I've known since your freshman year you've had problems, and I've always told you my door is open, yet you still refuse to come to me for help. I think its time you level with all of us here and now."
I said, "Well, if Mr. T's already told you what happened, why do I need to explain it to you? Can't you figure it out for yourself?"
"Why don't you just explain it to us from your point of you," Mrs. Own said, "that way we can have a better understanding."
I sighed, and told them everything from how I saw it. I didn't give them the serious details, just that I was basically tired of being ignored and only noticed to get picked on or to get the rest of the class in trouble.
"And I also don't like it that when ever Bobby Ray or any of the other jocks make a crack about me being a homo is brushed off like nothing." I finished. "It happens every time and I'm sick of it."
Mr. Thornton was looking at his hands and I felt a bit of triumph at that, while Mrs. Owen and Mr. Byre were just quite.
Then Mr. Byre said, "I will have a talk with a few of your classmates, as well as put an announcement out that such language and behavior will not be tolerated. In the meantime, Mr. T has apologized, and he has not said he doesn't want you out of his class. Are you willing to go back tomorrow?"
Part of my head was like, don't do it. You're going to get teased again, and once Mr. Byre pulls Bobby Ray in here, your life will be over cause you know he's going to find you and pummel you into the ground. Then the other part, the one that won, said fuck it!
"Yeah, sure." I said, and Mr. Byre smiled.
"Excellent."
He gave me a pass back to class, and felt like trouble was coming like a train.
When school ended at three-thirty, I saw Clay, and his third arm Mandy with Bobby Ray on my way through the quad after school, sitting and talking with their friends, but I ignored them. I had learned in freshman year that the so called "popular" kids hung around after the last bell and chatted out here until four or five, when ever they got kicked out by the campus security.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed several of them looked my way, but I didn't acknowledge it. I turned the music up on my headphones and walk on. Over the loud music, I could hear someone yelling at me, but all I heard was the pounding rhythms of the song "Lies" by Evanescence.
Bound at every limb, By my shackles of fear, Through so many lies, Through so many tears, Lost from within, Pursuing the end, I fight for the chance to be lied to again,
You will never be strong enough, You will never be good enough, You were never conceived in love, You will not rise above.
They'll never see, I'll never be, I struggle on and on, To feed this hunger burning deep inside of me.
Through my tears, Breaks a blinding light, Bringing a dawn to this endless night, Arms outstretched, awaiting me, An open embrace, upon a bleeding tree,
Rest in me and I'll comfort you, I have lived and I died for you, Abide in me and I vow to you, I will never forsake you.
They'll never see, I'll never be, I struggle on and on, To feed this hunger burning deep inside of me.
If there was ever a song to describe how I felt, I think that's it.
I was half way home, lost in another song by Evanescence, when a car past me, then pulled over, and none other than Bobby Ray got out, and started walking towards me, and he didn't look happy. I said, "Shit."