Author's Note: Nothing belongs to me. All rights go to their owners. This may or may not be finished. Just a heads up.
Being moved from Texas to Washington State was no laughing matter, as can be seen on my face. I am not laughing, not one bit. It's uncool, and totally not ironic. I'm moving to Forks, and that is why I am glaring out the window of the moving van, though not all of this is unwilling. I just wanted mom happy, even if I'm not. She and her new boyfriend can't really take care of me, a minor, if they work and travel as much as they do. Mom insisted that we drive all the way from my home -excuse me- old home to my new one. She said it was the last few hours of bonding we would have in awhile. We were about two hours away from my Bro's house. That's a lot of bonding time.
My Bro is fucking amazing. He is a master of shitty swords. He loves puppets -shivers- and refuses to let anyone tell him how he will live his life. "It's cold as frickle frack." A thing my mother hated, me cursing. So I don't, not around her anyways. Bro doesn't give a shit what I do, in fact he encouraged my swearing, said it helped me, 'Become a man.'
"Why is it so gloomy here? The rain never seems to stop. Perpetual hell, that is what this is, letting all the demons sing their wicked song of torture." The weather here is not like Texas at all. I love the sun, sucking it up like old soda after a sick party...even though I'm white like the half albino I truly am. The weather in Forks is gloomy. It's always raining, and the clouds are ever present, making it feel like I'm trapped in a cage.
"Language." I heard her, and I rolled my eyes behind my shades. I knew hell wasn't a curse word. I mean Michigan has a city called Hell for fucks sake! Even though it just happens to be a place, mom still refused to listen to me. A curse word will always be a curse word for her. "You know I dislike that kind of language. I don't like it when you substitute those nasty words. Though I let them slide because boys' do need an outlet." That is where I started blocking her out. She could go on for hours. She did.
"-which is why I even let you talk to that friend of yours anyhow. I might hate his language but you need at least one friend." She stopped the car, and we arrived at a multi-story house. My Bro was loaded, since he makes millions off his smuppet -I couldn't stop the shiver that ran up my spine- site. I never understood why Bro decided to live here, of all places, he could live anywhere he chose, and yet here he is, dwelling in the same house he and mom lived in when I was younger.
"It's good to see you, Dave." Bro said, stepping out of the house, giving me an awkward, one armed hug, and an uncharacteristic smile. Weird.
"Nice to see you, too."
"Let's get this unloaded, yes?" My mother opened the end of the truck. I'll admit, I have a lot of shit. Most of it is music orientated. I have awesome turntables, which helps me make rockin' mix tapes. I have various jars with preserved dead animals in it - my collection. Hey, to each his own. I even do photography. I will have to set up my dark room again, which will be a tedious, but rewarding task.
"Nice to see you too, mom." She just looked at Bro, eyes holding an emotion that couldn't be outright said. "Where are you going anyways that you'd have to leave Lil' Davey with me?" I punched Bro's arm, he can go die for that one. He snickered and that made me blush. How dare he!
"I'll be in Germany for the next three years with Harold, he suggested that we go there. Plus, work will be picked up there. We will travel around after that." I sighed at how much she gushed over this guy. I begrudgingly started taking things to my new room, leaving the conversation.
This was the house that we lived in before our father died. Mom left, and Bro stayed. It was small, but at the same time spacious, and I know it makes no sense, but I liked the feeling. It felt like I can make my music, and rap so ironically that someone's pants will literally fly off. That is a mental image that I didn't particularly care to conjure up, but hey, it's there. Might as well enjoy the ironicness of it.
My room was bare, just as it was before I left, and it was mine to make. I set my turntables in the corner, brought up a suitcase with my clothes in it, feeling as if I already had too many long sleeved shirts for this shit. I put my preserved dead things in the corner of the room where, weirdly, there was shelves. They seemed to belong there.
Bro eventually walked in, arms crossed, stoic as he always was. He seemed to be thinking, and it must have been about this predicament. "Lil' man, don't go fighting with anyone. Not until like the last day of the week." Today was only Wednesday, which helped none. "Then you can fight. It'd be uncool if you fight before then."
I set my headphones on my bed, planning on using them a little later on. "I plan on being the coolest of the cool," Which sounds stupid coming out of my mouth like that, "So I won't fight until then."
"Alright Lil' man, go do whatever you do." He turned back, and I just nodded. Doing what I do. Right.
The night wore on, and my nerves wouldn't leave me the fuck alone. This was a new school, and the population was about three hundred. I had no ride to school, so it seems like I will have to walk back and forth everyday, soaked, pissed off, and in a generally bad mood. Great life you have here, Dave. Really great life.
I woke to water being dumped onto my head and a shitty sword pointed at me, inches away from my face. I knew what was going on. Quickly, I flash stepped over to the door, grabbing a broken sword and running. I knew Bro was chasing me. Why he picked today to Strife was beyond me.
The stairs where beneath me in seconds, feet hitting the ground with a hollow thud. I turned knowing that he was on me, and I caught the sword just in time. I jumped back, making my body narrow, knees bent, ready for his next attack.
He was being more predictable than usual, which for Bro that was something that never happened. That means he is planning something, but what. Think Dave! Think!I saw an opening, but I didn't take it. That was purposeful, and I had to hold back a growl of frustration. This was easy, but why was it easy? What trick did Bro have? He lunged, and I parried, arm against my shoulder. I twisted and used my sword to tap his side. I won. Well, that was rare.
"Good job Lil' man, I went easy on you."
"No shit. Really?"
The pointy sunglasses he always wore seemed to twinkle. "Cause it's been years since we have trained together. I thought you'd be rusty, but I guess you aren't. Now, look outside." Cause I train on my own. That's why. Why to think I went soft. Some brother.
It was gloomy, and foggy, how the hell did he expect me- wait, was that a car?- to see anything. "Yeah, I see a red car, old, rusty. Looks totally ironic." Jingle of keys, and a quick catch I realize what Bro was trying to say. "It's mine?"
"Don't be later than nine. And if you get a ticket you're grounded." I nodded, Bro can be so awesome. He walked towards the kitchen, probably getting his morning pizza. "Have fun at school. Remember, no fights."
Getting lost trying to get to school was not on my list of things to do today, and I arrived just before the first bell was supposed to ring. I rushed to the collection of ugly, uniform buildings and entered the one that said office. There was a lady with red hair, all frizzy like. Looked like a tornado hit her.
I got all my paperwork, and I looked at my teachers. I knew I was going to hate my trig teacher, just because of what he taught. I walked on, looking for building three. It shouldn't have been so hard, yet there I was, looking like a fool. I walked in just as the bell rang.
The classroom was small. People seemed to hang their coats on pegs that lined the walls. Trying to blend in, I did the same. There were two girls- pale little things really. One was tall and the other was short. At least my albino tenancies would fit in.
I was told to sit where I would like, and that is what I did. I looked down at the reading list, Shakespeare, Faulkner, Chaucer, among others. I'd read it all. Man, that's boring. No one here will challenge my mental prowess, will they?
The bell rang, and a boy walked up to me. He had black hair, and it was greasy as hell. Does he ever wash it? He had short shorts on, and was that...an empty gun holster? Holy shit, this guy must not all be there. I put my hands in my pockets, looking sideways at Mr. Gun Crazy, half expecting him to attack me. "Hi, I'm Jake English. I heard you came from Texas. David Strider right?"
"Just Dave." He sounded Australian or something. Maybe British? Hell if I know anything about accents. Aside from the Texan variety.
"What do you have next hour?"
"Trig with ."
"I have him next. too. Good Golly, trig is hard!" The teacher walked in with another student trailing behind. He, well, no matter how I put it this will sound gay. He looked beautiful. I couldn't stop staring.
"He's...He is like a God." I said it aloud, and it killed me a bit on the inside when Mr. Gun Crazy heard me.
"Oh, John? He keeps to himself."
That was the beginning of the end. The day I learned that curiosity will kill the cat.