Cameron Fisher grew up hating his eyes. For Christ's sake, one was blue and one was green! He grew up in front of a mirror, staring at himself, wishing, praying that he would fall asleep and wake up with two blue eyes or two green eyes or hell, two yellow eyes, as long as they were the same color. His mom, who had two green eyes, reminded him daily that he was "special". Fucking special. If that didn't give him shotgun on the short bus, he didn't know what would.
His dad, with two normal blue eyes, at least understood his situation. "Never tell a boy he's special. He'll grow up a sissy and no girls will like him," he'd respond to every "You're special," comment. He was a big man, 6'3" and still as toned as he was before he met Cam's mom. Although his head full of hair had started reclining in his mid-40s, he still had the confidence of a big shot movie star. Cam admired him, which was why he hated the term "special", no matter who used it.
In second grade, Cam made friends with a boy named Derrick Harrington, an egotistical, dirty blond ball of energy. He never stopped talking about girls or cars or food. He had to admit that being friends with Derrick wasn't going to be easy. He always got the prettiest girl with the prettiest hair and the perkiest butt. For a while, Cam resented everything about him. He was sick of seeing Derrick getting everything all because he had two regular chocolate brown eyes. Did girls not realize that his eyes were the color of poop?
Cam had been there to listen to Derrick recount details from his first kiss in the fourth grade, his first slow dance in the fifth grade, his first girlfriend in the sixth grade, his first make out session in the seventh grade, his first boob in the ninth grade, his first time having sex in the tenth grade. For ten years, Cam was there just to sit and listen, to realize that he was only the second best in the duo. Maybe not even the second best. He was just the second friend. He had nothing charming or cute to say or give. Just his pair of mismatched eyes, old leather jacket and iPod full of indie rock songs that Derrick hated so much.
The Christmas of their senior year involved another snooty rich kid "benefit" that Cam despised as much as his eyes. Maybe less, but in a world full of hatred, what did it really matter? He dressed casually instead of the "elegant formal" that the invitation demanded. He waited until his parents left first because if they saw him in his tie and polo combination with dark jeans and messed up Vans, he would never hear the end of it from his mom.
He drove himself to the Block residence where events like these were always held. The Blocks' driveway was huge and rounded, with a great fountain in the middle and a cliché baby angel spouting water. He parked right next to Derrick's conspicuous red convertible (where he apparently did it with a college freshman girl near the end of junior year). Loads of people were slowly getting out of expensive cars, some Cam didn't know the name of. He got a lot of stares from these people as he got out of his '86 Ford truck. He rushed up the grand stairs leading to the front door of the Blocks' huge manor. If anyone thought that the president was living it large in his White House, then you had never been inside the Block Estate.
The ceilings were higher than any Roman church's, with breathtaking photos of different scenes, babies being held in mother's arms, great wars breaking out on the Great Plains from long ago. Each room had special brass light fixtures on walls that were used for smaller parties. For more regal things like this, the crystal chandelier that hung in each part of the home was lit up, practically shoving in your face that you were never going to be as important as the Blocks. The gala was held in the Block's "event room", a room that could hold almost 500 people and was even more grandiose than any five-star hotel could offer. There was a stage to the front, in case it was needed. For this occasion, it was covered behind a midnight blue velvet drape. Near the stage were the carefully ornamented tables, draped in the whitest of white cloth and a Christmas tree with little drumming men and tinsel smack dab in the middle. The room was already full of men and women dressed in outfits that were tailored months before tonight. Waiters and waitresses weaved through the heavily dressed guests, offering little appetizers or champagne flutes filled halfway.
Cam was used to this, even if he didn't want to be. He received a few glares, mostly because of his attire, but Cam thought that of course, his eyes were going to be an enemy tonight. He should've seen that one coming, too. That his eyes weren't going to play a part in snagging a cute girl the way Derrick could. Parties like these were just another reminder that Cam wasn't beautiful enough. Just special.
He found his group, Derrick Harrington, Chris Plovert, Dylan Marvil and Nina Callas, sitting around their designated table nearer to the front of the room. They were all dressed to impress, especially Nina, who had called every one of them to make sure they looked presentable to half of Westchester. When his eyes caught her judging chocolate ones, he shrugged in an abashed manner and quickly diverted his eyes.
Derrick was already talking about Massie Block, the daughter of the prestigious William and Kendra Block. "Dude, okay, I'm totally bagging her tonight. Did you see her? Fuck, you can almost see her entire back with her dress! God bless her parents for letting her dress like a slut to this event." He nodded at me in greeting as I took a seat next to him.
Chris Plovert, second in coming to being the biggest player of the school, was grinning ear-to-ear and bobbing his head knowingly. "Aw, yeah. I'd totally bone her if she wasn't a brunette." In the eighth grade, Chris had decided that he would only ever sleep with blondes. "It's obviously because they have more fun. They really do!" was his reason.
Nina Callas, the Spanish beauty of the group and also Cam's girl best friend, rolled her eyes and muttered something in Spanish. He chuckled. The two years of Spanish class definitely paid off around her. She mumbled something again and he replied. He didn't have the smooth accent that Nina had, but she did always compliment how easy it was for the language to roll off his tongue.
Dylan Marvil, their resident redhead and celebrity daughter, chewed off her nails, surveying the room. "Ugh, where the hell are all of the cute guys? I need someone to kiss tonight."
"Why?" Derrick asked, sipping his glass of iced tea. He didn't fit the stereotype of rebel-teenager-who-snuck-alcohol-into-parties. He was classier than that. "It's not like it's New Year's Eve or anything. Just another benefit by the Blocks. Now, if you excuse me, I have a daughter to hook up with." He stood up, brushed his shoulders off and swaggered on over to Massie as she chatted with a few other well-dressed girls.
Nina glared at Cam until she caught his attention. "Why aren't you wearing what I told you to wear?" she demanded accusingly.
He smirked and shook his head to dismiss the question. Nina pouted and folded her arms over her chest. Chris snickered and pulled out a silvery flask and poured it into his drink. Dylan smacked his arm and he raised his arms in confusion. Cam closed his eyes for a while, wishing he could be back in his room listening to The Kooks like he usually did on Friday nights.
And then out of nowhere, he heard Dylan call out, "Cam, watch out!" but it had been too late. Cam jumped up at the freezing cubes of ice that had slid down his back. Nina was up, trying to calm him down to get the ice out. Chris was chortling hysterically, his iPhone in the air, capturing every moment. Dylan was, of course, slapping him and telling him to put it away while trying to shoo away the attention of everyone in the room.
Cam finally succeeded on emptying his shirt. He felt Nina and a third party's hand patting his back, but he could barely feel anything. He felt like he had a brace around his torso and he couldn't twist or bend back. Nina peered into his face. "Are you alright now?"
Cam didn't answer, still in shock of the ice. He hadn't realized he'd been shivering. He looked up and turned his body towards the person who had knocked the ice into his shirt. His eyes caught with two purple orbs, in them even more embarrassment than Cam would ever experience.
an: mehehehehehe :) please review? :)