For my Writing 225 class we had to write a short-story that gave some impression of character we had sketched out in class previously. My take on it was to write something that explored the character, not necessarly went anywhere with a plot-line. In that respect, I did it very differently from most of the class. Let me know what you think of it.Beep. Beep. Beep.
A hand flashed out from a mound on the twin-sized bed and slapped the alarm clock, stopping the noise and shaking the rickety desk on which it sat. With a groan the mound of sheets dissolved into a boy who’s hair shot off in jaunty angles, which even the strongest moose couldn’t imitate. The boy rolled himself over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Whoever invented the alarm clock should be shot, beaten, stabbed, and thoroughly covered in icy-hot for destroying all the good in this world. Then again, just make him listen to an alarm for 24hrs,” he muttered, barely managing to keep a smile down.
The boy glanced at his alarm clock and realized that, once again, he would be late for school. With a shrug he pulled himself out of bed and opened his curtains letting a wave of sunlight stream into his humble adobe. He stretched, kicked around the pile of dirty clothes lying on the floor till he found his Adidas flip-flops and a reasonably clean pair of carpenter jeans. That done, he stepped into the bathroom.
There he took care of the essentials and turned to the floor length mirror that lined one wall. With a twinkle in his eye, he adopted a pose and said, “My name is Skylar Penden. You killed my father, prepare to die.” He giggled. The face that looked back from the mirror with a smirk was the face of his father, if he knew whom his father was. Long, dirty blond hair framed a face that was tanned with exposure to the sun. His upper body was well defined but not overly muscular; the standard shape of someone who did more running than lifting. Skylar was about average height standing at 5’9 and weighed close to 140lbs, none of it being fat. Sometimes his mother would hassle him about eating more, putting some meat on those bones but it was rare when she was around to care. If someone were to hazard a guess at his age, 23 would be a common answer but Skylar had yet to see even eighteen summers. He was young for his grade, filled with all the advantages and disadvantages that held.
Skylar took one last look in the mirror as he threw some gel in his hair, pulled on a t-shirt and tightened his shoes. With a passing wink at the mirror he walked downstairs to fix himself a quick bite to eat. A post-it note stuck to the fridge let Skylar know that yet again his mother would be late from work. His mom, Lori, worked for some dot-com startup in the next town over and pulled many long and stressful days for as long as he could remember. It paid the bills but time together always became a sideline event. Ever since he could remember, Skylar had really been on his own, he liked it that way. Looking at his watch he grabbed a pop tart and headed for the garage. “Shit, I’m off to a great start today,” he thought to himself. With that, he climbed onto his 10-speed and began the short ride into school.
The sun sat low on the horizon and the dew lay heavy on the grass as he peddled through the small town. The fall air was still warm enough not to need a jacket but had a disturbing freshness to it, a warning that Ole’Man Winter wasn’t far off. Perfect weather for a game of soccer Skylar thought to himself as the high school building came within view. He hopped off his bike as it coasted into the rack, not even taking the time to lock it up. No one would steal it. Hell, crime was virtually unknown in this sleepy little town west of Harrisburg, PA. With a population of less than 5,000 total people, everyone knew everyone else and the farmers had rather improper relationships with their stock or so the tourists joked.
Not that those thoughts ran through Skylar’s head as he casually strolled through the main doors of his school. He waved at the secretary at the front desk, ignoring the request for signing in and the late pass. The secretary behind the desk just sighed and back to her forms; no one really bothered him, teachers or administrators. Here, in this town, he was as close as you could come to an untouchable in the system. That’s how it was here. If you were the star of some sport, the star of something, any transgressions were quickly overlooked. Everything could be overlooked as long as you performed. He shook his head, bothered once again by the absurdity of it all as his feet carried him past his locker and into his first period biology class.
The late bell had already rung some fifteen minutes previously and the teacher, Mr. Kimmely, gave him quite a look as he breezed in and sat down. Skylar just shrugged and with the most innocent look possible on his face said, “My car wouldn’t start. Damn Japanese manufactures and cheap Mexican labor.” The class laughed. Everyone knew his mother drove the German sports car and he saw no need for his own car. Skylar just smiled, shook his head and looked at his desk. As the classes attention shifted back to the blackboard his smile quickly faded from his face. It was so easy to feed the crowd, to give them what he wanted, so simple. He sighed.
The rest of the class passed uneventfully with the teacher drowning on in a manor guaranteed to send even the hardest convict begging for the chair. Skylar’s eyes glazed over and his thoughts drifted far away. It was the state of highschoolery that to the untrained masses seems to be an almost mystical state of presenting the face of listening to a teacher when in fact, dreaming of yellow brick roads and dancing dwarves and magical flying rodents. These rodents were not on Skylar’s mind this morning. Rather, his thoughts were running and re-running thousands of situations for the games tonight. Ways to win, ways to lose, and ways to get hurt; hurt so he could finally get away. Away from everything this town forced upon him.
Ring. Ring. Ring
The teachers chalk ceased shrieking against the chalkboard as the bell signaled the end of class. Skylar thoughts came back to the present as he pushed his chair in and began to walk towards the day. Mr. Kimmely intercepted him before he could make it out and wished him the best of luck. Skylar gave a perfectly calculated smile and muttered some necessary trifles to the teacher and left as quickly as he could for his next class, Philosophy. He could stand it when they did that to him, when they pushed up something that wasn’t all that important. Skylar sighed again and walked into the second floor library and took a seat.
Normally, Philosophy was one of Skylar’s favorite classes but today he couldn’t focus. The dialogues of Plato could be interesting and the Allegory of the Cave was the story of American civilization, but not today. In reality, Plato got it wrong. The cave was a great place to be because you could just slink away, hide in the shadows. It was only then that Skylar realized the irony of today’s class, the dialogue of a dead man surrounded by dead books organized by librarians who were little more than the walking dead. He laughed, and just smiled as the teacher glanced his way. The irony was beautiful, exquisite; the exact type of thing Skylar appreciated most.
He sat down at one of the tables and kicked his feet up. Looking at his fellow classmates he grinned, today he was in luck! Lisa Williams was not here; he could be alone in his thoughts and not bothered. The grin on his face quickly faded however as she walked through the door. Most would say Lisa was beautiful, well possessed with a southern charm, Skylar just considered her annoying. She spotted him instantly and began to walk towards his table. Skylar shrunk into his seat, wishing he could sink even further into the floor and just disappear. Away from her, away from everyone.
He wasn’t so lucky however, and she sat down directly across from him. With a happiness and flair that made his teeth grind, she said hello to him. He gave another of his fake smiles and hoped she would get the hint that he didn’t want to be disturbed. As Skylar did he realized that she never got the hints. It was like miming to a wall, or someone in love. She’d been this way ever since he’d been dared to kiss her on the playground in 3rd grade. Some people just don’t know when to let go, he thought to himself.
“Hey,” she chirped, “do the homework?”
He shook his head in the negative and attempted to concentrate on the teacher’s ramblings about Plato.
“I didn’t see you running this morning. You feelin ok? I mean you got the big game against central tonight. Don’t want the star player all hurt and…stuff.”
Skylar looked up from the table and straight into Lisa’s. His eyes burned with an intensity that made Lisa recoil. Within his eyes she saw something she’d never seen before – a pain, a deep, overwhelming weariness. She saw that moment within his eyes what he tried to hide from everyone. Lisa knew then Skylar was not the boy she thought, not the boy that anyone in that little town thought. For the first time in her life, Lisa had nothing to say. Skylar appreciated the silence as they both turned back to the studies at hand.
Late that evening, Skylar laid on his tiny little bed and ran through the events of the day in his head. He ran through his game-winning goal in the game that afternoon. He ran through the various classes and what work he would have to make up or copy for the following day. He even thought about his mother and how she was late again and probably wouldn’t be home until the very wee hours of the morning. Not once did he think about the events with Lisa, not once did he think about what he might have given away. It was out of mind, out of sight. For everyone else thought Skylar perfect, why shouldn’t he?