Disclaimer: I don't own the OC, nor any of its characters. But the 13 year old Seth, Ryan and Marissa characterizations are products of my own strange mind.
Authors Note: The first three chapters will be short introductions for each characters and then after that they will be longer.
R/R ;)
Seth Cohen was a man with a plan. He had devised it, revised it and perfected it.
It was the Seth Cohen survival guide.
If all thing went according to plan it would get him through his first upcoming year at Harbour, it would see him through Water polo players, it would snake him past rejection via summer, and he could survive newpsies, and the Newport teenage elite that was simply obsessed that he was the scum of the Earth. The plan would not change his reputation, but it would save him. It would get him through high school and out of Newport in one piece and that was all that mattered.
It called for many things, good music, a play station, a bag of grass, a sailboat, and a skateboard.
Seth had it all worked out, these things would save his life.
Seth, was stealth. Which meant by definition he could lie, he could bend the truth, he could generalize, and he could do it well. Especially when it came to his parents.
How was school?
Fine.
How was sailing?
Fine.
How was the pier?
Fine.
So maybe his lying was not the issue, but rather his ambivalence. In how being thrown against a fence and called a queer, sailing half way to Catalina, and buying weed could all fall under the same guise. Everything was fine, everything was cool. Goddamn he was stealth.
Seth had this drug thing down pat. He had gotten his D.A.R.E. certification, he had had the 'talk' with his Dad, he had seen the after school specials of heroin junkies living in garbage dumpsters. But none of that had prepared him for sharing his first joint with two 'Street Fight II' addicts behind the arcade on the pier. This was survival after all.
He always bought from the same guy (Street fight II addict #1), kept it in the same place (In his Jenga box) and always smoked it in the same places (his sailboat, and under the pier). He had his rules mostly because he had strongly suspected his father was an ex-pot head and therefore could be a potential German shepherd when it came to smelling it on him. So what better than a strong salt water breeze to blow it right off?
The pot kept him mellow, kept him from drowning in self pity of his sad pathetic little life, his emo music served as evidence that he wasn't alone. His play station got out his pent up anger, and his skateboard and his sailboat were his escape.
Now he had two months of freedom, of sweet leave the house in the morning, come back at night, parents at work freedom, before he started ninth grade at the dreaded Harbour school.
Life sucked, but he'd survive.
TBC- With Ryan's survival guide.