The previous entry of "The Stranded Boy, Chase" is actually supposed to be a series, but being negligent as I am, I forgot to write #1 next to the first title. This is my second entry of "...Chase". I'd like the series to be pretty long, but I'm pretty lazy so I don't know how far I'll take it. I also have school, so it might take a while to get into the habit of writing these. Anyway, thanks for reading and email me with whatever at Aaron002@aol.com. I don't even care if it's hate mail. I'll gladly accept anything you have to offer.
"The Stranded Boy, Chase" Chapter 2
The first sound I heard in the morning was never that of bluebirds. It was always my alarm clock. "Shit, shit, shit!" I yelled as I opened my eyes and heard the terrible sound of the clock. I knew that I was late again. Why didn't anyone wake me up? School begins everyday at 7:30 in the morning; I woke up everyday at eight in the morning. I guess, I don't have to tell you that my first period teacher hated me. Taking a swift look at the clock, I ran to the shower. I turned the water on and jumped in. It never took me long to shower; I was out of there within ten minutes. Entering my room, I took another look at the clock. "7:42, shit!" I shrieked. I already knew that I would be late, but for reasons unknown to me (or maybe hidden deep in my subconscious), I didn't accept it. I ran back to my room to dress. Oh God, I had no clean clothes. Running to the hamper, I took out my old khakis, smelled them, and threw them to the floor. For about 20 minutes, I rummaged through my hamper, my closet, and my floor. I found nothing clean enough to wear. I ran downstairs with the towel still around my waist to check if my parents were still home.
"Late again?" my mom asked a bit colder than usual as I made my way down the stairs to the kitchen. She was sitting at the table eating cereal and reading her morning paper.
"Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Am I going to have to wake you up when you're in college too? Actually, it wouldn't be that hard. I'd just buy you one of those special alarm clocks with my voice in it, and set it for 6 in the morning. That way you'd hear the beautiful voice of your mother telling you to get the fuck up every morning of your life til you turned fifty." She said this with her eyes still fixed on the newspaper and the undaunted cup of coffee still in her hand. Sarcasm ran in the family.
"Forget it. Look, I don't have any clothes. I mean, I don't have any clean ones and I'm late." I wasn't sure if she cared, but it was worth a try to ask for help.
"Weren't you supposed to do your laundry this weekend? What am I thinking? You never do your own laundry." She stood up, took my hand, and led me to my younger brother's room. "There," she said pointing to a bag, presumably full of clean clothes. "I did your laundry, lazy. But it's the last time." I smiled and kissed her cheek. Sarcastic or not, she was a wonderful mother.
Running to my room with the bag, I let the towel drop to the floor. I swung it to my bed, and picked a matching shirt and pants as quickly as I could. Putting on my underwear, I stared at the mirror. I smiled at my form. It wasn't bad. Of course, I didn't have to dye my hair jet black, but it was a question of identity. Everyone at school was busy bleaching their hair blond. Being inherently blond, I couldn't stand their actions. I wanted to be different so I did what I thought best. I wasn't built, but not at all flimsy. I stared deeply into the eyes of my reflection. Blue. I laughed, and quickly dressed. I never bothered to comb my hair and left it to air dry.
My bike stood outside waiting for me. I hopped on and rode to school.
"Late again, Mr. Parker?" Staring at my teacher, I said nothing as I entered the classroom. "Well, I guess that's what I should expect from a kid who can't tell time. Do you have the homework?" I couldn't stand Mr. Thompson. But from the sound of it, I don't think he like me either.
"Well, why don't I come after school, and you can teach me to tell time Mr. Thompson? I'm sure that I wouldn't keep your computer - whoops, I mean, your girlfriend - waiting too long." The room shook with the laughter of the students. I strode towards his desk and laid my homework there. (I did the same thing everyday.) I took my seat in the back of the room and waited for the bell to ring.
The day, as I expected, was very boring. I read; I slept; I ate. (I did this everyday.) I can't remember the last time I paid attention in my classes, but I also can't remember the last time I got less than a B in any of them.
Looking up at the clock during the last period of the day, I awaited the bell. "Come on, come on," I whispered. After five minutes of my litany, it finally rang. I ran out of the classroom to my locker. Of course I had nothing to do after school, but I was getting tired of seeing the faces of my teachers and my peers. All of them smiling, laughing, loitering! Just then, I felt a finger on my shoulder. I jumped and quickly turned around.
"So, what are we doing today?" It was Nick.
"Oh... yeah, I forgot that it was Monday." I'd forgotten all about him. How? I couldn't say. But as he stood there, I remembered every parcel of my fantasies about him the week before. His wet chest in the shower after his games; his silky lips; his soft brown hair; his beautiful hazel eyes with the specs of gold. "Anyway, you shouldn't jump on people like that." I said, and he smiled.
"Sorry. Didn't know you were so sensitive to the touch," he said laughing.
Without another word spoken, we walked to Ms. Watts' classroom. Immediately after we got there, he took a seat. He was staring and smiling at me again. "So, do you know why you're tutoring me?" he asked. Of course I knew. He needed help in history.
"Hmm, I don't know. Maybe because you need help in history," I answered taking the heavy history book out of my bag.
"Actually, I'm great at history. Ask Ms. Watts. I was doing great up until about a month ago."
"What happened? Did you have an emotional breakdown or something?" Was it just me, or were his eyes changing colors? Were his lips glistening at the touch of his wet tongue? Was his brown hair shimmering as the rays of the sun hit each individual strand? Slowly, he was changing from beautiful boy, to a wondrous god. An Adonis. Where did I hear that stupid word used before? Lord, he was beautiful.
"Actually, my sister and I made a bet." He was still smiling, but I could tell that he was also shaking somewhat. "I bet that... well, she says that..."
"You bet what? Dude, we need to do this. I don't care if I get an A in Ms. Watts' class, but I can't stand the thought of her chasing after me because I didn't do my job and got you a B. She does that, you know?" I frowned. I wasn't at all annoyed. In fact, I enjoyed the sight of his quivering lips, but I had to pretend that I didn't care. I had to stand my ground as the detached boy who could care less if there was a beautiful junior sitting in front of him with glistening, trembling lips.
"Um, ok. I bet that... that you're... Well, no. My sister... Well, you know how Sandra Dumont asked you to the prom and you told her that you would only take her when the moon turns black and falls to the earth killing everyone but her?" He laughed and so did I.
"Yea, I remember."
"Well, why'd you do that? I mean she's hot. She's popular and she was voted one of the top ten hottest girls in the senior class."
What? Was this what the kid was after? Why I wasn't going out with that stuck-up bitch? Oh God. I remembered how she pretended to cry when I told her that she was an idiot, and that I'd rather date the hundred-year-old lunch lady than her. I laughed at the thought of her calling me, telling me to take her to the movies. She was very bossy. "She's a bitch. Everyone knows it. I'm just the only one not afraid to say it to her face. I don't know why she even asked me out. I don't even LOOK at anyone in her stupid clique. I don't know why she..." He didn't let me finish.
"Well, 'cause you're hot!" he exclaimed. My face contorted as I stared at him. He also grimace, blushed a deep red, and turned away. I smiled.
"Look, I'm not social. Actually I'm totally ANTISOCIAL. Everyone knows it. I don't like 'em. I don't think I like anyone except for my little brother, or my mom... you know, like the people I live with because I have to."
"Not even me?" he asked and blushed again. "Forget it. Look, I'm sorry." He laughed, but I could tell that it was forced.
"No, I mean, what was the bet?" Now I was interested. Why was this kid blushing?
"Never mind. Just forget I said anything. Anyway, I need to know the stuff about... about... you know, about McCarthy and the communists or whatever." Was he still blushing? I no longer thought he was a jerk like I did last week.
I smiled. I still thought of him as an Adonis though. His eyes were still gleaming, and so was his hair. "Tell me about the bet, and I'll tell you about the communists."
"Well, after you didn't want to go out with Sandra," he stood out of his chair and walked to the window, I assumed to avoid my gaze. "I told my sister that you might, maybe be oh, I don't know, gay." It was my turn to blush.
"What?" I roared. I think that everyone in the whole three-story building might have heard me.
He ran to the desk where his bag lay and began to pack his books, getting ready to leave. "Look, it was just a bet. I mean I'm not... I mean... it was just a stupid bet." He snatched his book from the desk all but ripping the pages out. His hands were shaking. "Look, forget about the tutoring, ok? I can manage. I mean, Ms. Watts' class isn't that hard. I was actually doing pretty good a while ago."
I was growing calmer. I stared as he fumbled through his things. He looked nervous, anxious. I tilted my head and watched in amazement as he tried desperately to close his overstuffed bag. I snickered. Reaching over, I zipped the bag for him. Our hands rubbed against each other's and to my bemusement, I felt a growth in my crotch. Was I getting aroused? Shit! Was he blushing? Shit! I looked down to his crotch, and I could have sworn there was a bulge there.
Quickly, I turned to face the windows. "Look man, how about we just forget you said anything. And we do this tutoring thing another time, k?"
"OK," he said simply. He took his bag and all but ran out of the classroom.
Oh God, I thought. What's wrong with me? This isn't good!