"I'm Sorry"
Chapter One
By Wildfire
Life at the Taylor house has never been calm, or even peaceful. Mark Taylor, the youngest of three boys knew this the most. He constantly had to deal with his two older brothers who were relentless in there picking.
Recently, Mark, now a seventh grader, had taken to always being dressed in black. Of course this only gave his older brothers another thing to pick on him with. As a teenager Mark was defiantly getting fed up.
"Oh, my God, Mark. Is that blue on your shirt? I didn't know you knew any other colors."
Mark clenched his jaw a little, Randy had always had some little comment ready at his sleeve. "Leave me alone."
"Ah, are we feeling self-conscious today? My poor little brother." Randy leaned against the counter, clearly enjoying himself.
"I'm taller than you, and I'm younger, too. You're the little one." Mark smirks, he could do his own come backs sometimes.
Brad looked up from the couch chucking. "He's right, Randy. You are short." He stood up. "Now knock it off I'm trying to read this… book." He looked down at the thick book before shrugging and dropping it onto the coffee table.
Randy's eyes widen, it was rare that Brad ever took Mark's side. "What the hell, Brad? Mind your own business!"
"Don't freak so much, Randy. You can't slam the kid for speaking the truth. You're just kind of… feminine," Brad says trying to keep from laughing, Mark however busted out laughing.
"Fuck off." Randy quickly heads downstairs to the sanctuary of his room. Plopping on his bed, he grudgingly admitted to himself that he knew he was short. It was a sore spot for him; he couldn't change it. Doctors said it was because he was so sick as a child.
IS
It was lunch and the room was crowded. A young man with black shaggy hair was staring at a girl that was, in his opinion, the most beautiful creature alive. She had flowing brown hair that curled slightly, and her eyes were a rich brown with eyelashes that were long and black. Her body was perfect: big chest, small waist. She was perfect, and he wanted her, especially when she smiled. Her smile was full and surrounded by the most beautiful plump red lips.
However, that said girl was oblivious to all the stares, for her eyes were locked on somewhere else -- or rather, someone else. Someone else that had blond hair and a large build, that played soccer and was beautiful. He was Brad Taylor, and he was a god.
She stood up, she'd been working the nerve up all day, it was time. She had to talk to him -- she just had to….
He was joking around with the other soccer players on his team, who were also beautiful but not like him. She made her way over to him, trying to keep her hands from shaking. "H-Hi."
Brad looks up with a blink. A simple smile rested on his face. "Hello?"
"I… I-I'm Becky. I was just... wondering if you wanted to eat… I mean, eat together." She wanted to kick her self for stumbling over herself so much.
The guys around the table all let out little snickers. Brad however just kept smiling and stood up, leading her away. "Becky, right?"
"Y-Yeah. I know I'm not your type, but--"
"Hold on there." He laughs. "I'm not really looking for a girlfriend right now. I just broke up with my old girl and I kinda need a break. But if you want, we could have lunch still, as friends."
"O-Okay."
He pats her shoulder and heads back to the table were the other team members teased him. He just laughs and shrugs.
She sighs as she watches him go. She'd never get his attention. She starts heading back to her table, but is intercepted by a young man with shaggy black hair.
"Hi, I saw what he did. Sorry about that. I'm Luther. He's making a huge mistake." His talk was quick, and kinda reminded her of slime.
"Uh... thanks. Excuse me."
"I would love to have dinner with you."
"Oh, well, sorry. I would, but I…. Look, my heart only belongs to one." She let out a dramatic sigh as she looked to Brad again. "Sorry, but thanks for the compliment." She shrugs and walks away.
Luther stares after her. He would have her. He had to have her.
IS
Jill sat on the bathroom floor, groaning.
"Honey? Want me to make you some soup or something?" Tim asks cautiously. Lately his wife's mood had been a little… dramatic.
"I don't think so…. I don't care what the doctors say; I have to be allergic to something I'm eating. I mean, I'm fine most of the time and than suddenly I'm sick."
Tim kneels beside her, gently brushing her hair away from her face. "We'll go back to the doctors tomorrow and run some more tests, okay?"
She nods, leaning into him. "I hate being sick."
"I know. I'll go make you some soup." Tim stood, heading down stairs to hear complaining and yelling. "What the hell is going on?" He moves into the living room.
Randy was lying face-first on his stomach, with Mark's knees pressed into his back, while his arm were locked under Randy's chin, pulling his head up. Tim hurries over pulling Mark off of him. "What are you trying to do!"
Randy slowly sits up while breathing hard, and Mark struggled to get free. "Who's the pathetic weak boy now!"
Brad walks in smirking, then frowns when he sees Randy struggling to breath. "What's going on?" He runs toward Randy to help him up.
"He called me weak again! Now we see who's really weak."
Brad sighs, these stupid fights were getting on his nerves, and Randy did usually start them. It really wasn't his business but if this kept up Mark may actually hurt his older brother. "Randy, he's stronger than you. You've got to except it."
Tim frowns. "I don't care. Mark, if you attack your brother like that again I'll stop your karate lessons." That stilled Mark immediately.
"No, you can't! Dad, I need it!"
"Then I suggest you don't attack your brother again." He lets go of his youngest, heading to Randy. "Are you alright?"
"I'm FINE!" He shoves Brad away, nearly running down stairs. Brad sighs and Mark chuckles. Tim let out a sigh as well and headed to go make the soup.
Randy once again plops onto his bed, barring his head into the pillow. 'Randy, he's stronger than you….' The words ran through his mind. Brad was supposed to take his side! And here he was taking Mark's. He should have beaten the crap out of him. But no, he just told him, 'Randy, he's stronger than you.' He hated them -- he hated them both!
He hated being tiny. He had tried to go out for sports, but there were signs of his asthma returning, so they cut it down. He could still work out, but nothing heavy, which meant nothing like soccer or karate. They didn't understand -- neither of them understood! He wished they could feel what it felt like to feel so vulnerable knowing your younger brother could kick your ass. And it wasn't a nice feeling!
He sat up, staring at the computer. He was good at school. It was pretty much the only thing he was good at. It made his mom happy. He knew she thought of him as more her son for it, as he didn't do the stuff his brothers did. She didn't think he liked sports. It wasn't that he loved school and hated sports. It was that he couldn't ever play the sport, so why get interested in it? As for school, he wanted to excel at something, so why not something that made you look good?
Brad and him were pretty close, but now that Mark was getting older and into sports. He knew whom Brad would choose, and it wasn't like it was a hard choice. 'The brother that will play games with me or the one that can't…. Hmm, who would anyone with a brain choose?'
Why couldn't he have been normal?
IS
"Dad, we should really redo the seat coverings." Brad was leaning into the hot rod. "I think it'll help."
Tim nods. "We need to finish the paintjob first."
"Well, Dad, you need to buy the paint first."
"I just need to find the right color."
"I like black."
"No, black's too boring. I need something bold, something that will make people see it and go, 'Wow, what a car!'"
Brad shakes his head with a smile. "Then you'll sell it, right? Get a new one?"
Tim smiles and points to him. "That's right. HO HO HO…."
"I want a week of driving this one first."
"You got it."
"Let's go pick out some paint." Brad grabs his keys. "I'll drive."
"Oh, Ar ar ar. Don't know if that's safe."
"Safer than you with a screwdriver, and we brave that every day." Brad shrugs dangling the keys, smirking.
Tim shakes his head, putting Brad in a slight headlock before heading for the car.