Third time trying to write this. Oiy, exhausting…
It's My Fault—Chapter One. (Warning, Slash/Yaoi. Don't read if you don't approve. Or if you're a hater on equality.)
When a pair of shoes fell from the sky and hit my head, well, I thought it was too wild to be real. Especially when I found out those shoes were the shoes of Sweetfeet, my favorite baseball player. It seemed too Willy-Wonka-Golden-Ticket-Esque to really be real. It was like some fantasy story. Well, I was right about one thing- it was too good to be true. Cops thought I had stolen them, trying to explain that they fell from the sky would have been pointless, as it sounded crazy even to me- and it happened to me! See, all my life, everything has gone wrong for me, and nothing ever goes my way, so I just learned to stop fighting with life. My grandfather said it was because of a curse, and sometimes I really did believe it. Because nobody on earth had luck as bad as mine, besides me anyway…
Even in school I was unlucky, in social status, in grades, and in love life. Girls didn't like me, and sometimes I wasn't sure if I liked girls back. They had always been so horrible to me; it wouldn't surprise me at all if I actually liked boys. Maybe if I met a decent girl who treated me like a human being, then maybe… But so far, no. Then again, no boys at my school treated me decently either, so maybe I was just a lonely little isotope with no partner in the giant universe to love.
I had been arrested and the judge had told me it would take at least a month for my trial to start, because we apparently needed word from Clyde Livingston, aka Sweetfeet, about the whole situation. He told me, basically, that he hated my guts and never wanted to be associated with me. One more thing to chock up as part of the family curse, I suppose. I got the choice of going to jail or to Camp… Green Lake… I chose the camp, assuming it was like a normal Summer camp. Nope!
More curse magic, this camp turned out to be one huge desert pit in the middle of nowhere. Just my luck… And at this camp, we apparently had to dig holes all day long to learn our lessons for whatever crimes we had committed. I was walked into a room, introduced to a Mr. Sir, whose name I found amusingly redundant, and then Mr. Sir took me to a room to change clothes.
"You get two sets of clothes," he explained to me, chewing on sunflower seeds, "After three days your work clothes are washed and your second set becomes your work clothes."
After getting dressed, a short man, shorter than me astonishingly, came in and called my name, leaving out the end of 'the fourth'. Mr. Sir hadn't been too impressed with that story… The short man said that just because I had done bad things didn't make me a bad kid. To be honest, I just found the sound of his voice to be really annoyingly high pitched, so I wasn't sure I wanted to hear any more. He said he respected me, and for some reason the statement made me feel queasy.
Mr. Sir seemed to agree with me, because he said if he started that 'touchy feely crap' he was out. I'd be right there with him! But the short man, called Pendanski, said he was going to show me around.
He pointed out the showers, the wreck room, the mess hall, and he told me I'd be in D-Tent. "D stands for diligence," he said proudly. To me, it just sounded like motivational speech crap. A group of boys approached us and to my surprise, one called Pendanski mom.
"Who's the Neanderthal?" the boy asked, a dark brown skinned boy wearing glasses so dusty they looked like cheap plastic.
"This is Stanley," he introduced me, saying who the boys were, but then they confused me by telling me they had other names. One told me Pendanski was mom.
"They all have their little nicknames, but I prefer to use the names their parents gave them," he said, receiving three pairs of eye rolls from the boys, "the names society will recognize them by." The end almost sounded like a question.
Pendanski took me to my tent and 'Armpit' or was it Theodore…? Told me that a cot with a large dark stain was where Barf-bag slept and patted it almost triumphantly. I assumed this was my bed, seeing as all the others were currently taken. Pendanski was telling me things and stuff, but I was too disgusted by the stain on the bed to really listen. I had to sleep on dried puke. Gross! Thank you family curse, thank you…
Pendanski introduced the boys, who quickly told me that they were named otherwise, and I just tried to resist scratching my head. I had said hi softly, hoping that maybe at least one of the boys here would be kind to me. But judging from the wide-eyed, soul eating stare of a boy with crazy blond hair, that didn't seem likely. Apparently he was… Ricky… No, wait, Armpit… Theodore…? Said he was called Zig Zag… I was so confused at this point, I was just going to try Pendanski's names for now, they seemed real…
Pendanski drew my attention from the frightening, unblinking, Ricky and said, "And this is Zero. Say hello to Stanley, Zero." Zero, a small boy with caramel brown skin, lay on his cot and didn't even blink at the mention of his nickname, or was it his name? Pendanski used Zero; maybe he really was called that… He said he used their real names… Zero, huh? Odd name… "You wanna know why they call 'im Zero?" Pendanski asked with a malicious grin. Okay… So maybe Zero was a nickname… "'Cause there's nothin' goin' on in his stupid little head!" the man said, ruffling the small boys' springy dark brown afro of falling curly tresses in a way that almost seemed threatening and dominant. It made me a little tense. But Zero didn't even blink; he just lay there in silence.
I heard Ricky ask something and I reluctantly looked away from the little kid on his bed. He was easier to look at than Ricky, whose eyes reminded me of a crack addict I had seen on the side of the road two years ago. I didn't want to look at that. After a little more conversation from the boys in my tent, I looked back at Zero. He didn't look at me; he just turned over on his side, facing away from me. I furrowed my brow in question as I thought I heard him sigh. Maybe he thought the conversation the boys were having was stupid, it wasn't exactly intelligent, so I couldn't really blame him.
It was time for dinner, and I found that the food was disgusting as on television. The loud speaker said dinner was string beans, refried beans, garbanzo beans, some other type of beans, and banana Jell-O. I didn't even want to ask why banana Jell-O was put on that list.
"Hey, new kid, c'mere, you sit here," Ricky told me, moving down a seat and letting me set my tray onto the table before me. I glanced around nervously, yet hopefully, at the boys. Squid, as I now had learned to call the boys by their nicknames and not their real names, was chewing on a toothpick and squinting at me. Armpit was eating, ignoring my presence entirely. Zero looked at me when I first got there, and then he went back to his food. X-Ray began saying something to me, and it took me a second to register that he wasn't just talking, he was taking.
He took my bread, and said, "So you wouldn't mind giving it to somebody who did, now wouldja?" He was implying to someone who dug, because I hadn't.
I didn't fight him. I didn't want trouble; I wanted someone to be my friend for once in my life. Who knows? Maybe I'd get lucky if I tried to be the good guy in a juvenile delinquent camp. "No, you can have it," I muttered, twiddling my fingers nervously.
After a brief moment of silence, he asked what 'they' got me for. I couldn't tell the actual truth, I simply said what the cops believed, "Stealing a pair of shoes…" I whispered it in a meek and worried voice.
They laughed at me and teased about how they were still on someone's feet. Then Ricky asked with a demented chuckle, "No, you jus' killed the guy first. You just left out that little detail, first, right?"
I muttered in response, "They were Clyde Livingston's…" All the boys looked at me with wide eyes, but they quickly put me off, saying that I couldn't have and commenting on Sweetfeet.
Magnet, beside me, asked, silencing the others, "How'd you get 'em? He's like the fastest guy in the majors, right?"
So I figured I may as well try and explain. "Well, he-he donated hi-his shoes. To this- this homeless shelter. And—"
I was cut off by a sudden, higher, soft voice asking, "Did they have red X's on 'em?"
Everyone at the table gasped and leaned backwards, showing who it was that had spoken. Zero… I stared at the little kid for a second before Squid attracted my attention.
"You got Zero to talk!" he exclaimed.
"'Ey, what else can you do, Zero?" Armpit asked across the table.
Zero only glanced at the two boys, and he returned his gaze to me. In the darkened light of the mess hall, I saw that he had dark chocolate brown eyes. And they were waiting for an answer.
"Yeah," I breathed, nodding my head slightly, "Yeah they did…"
He swallowed, blinking at me, and he quickly looked back to his food, twirling his fork into his food. The rest of the meal was spent in awkward silence. And afterwards we all went back to our tent, where I had the worst lack of sleep of my life.
….Originally this was going to be from Zero's perspective, but I failed at it twice, so I gave up and chose Stanley as my victim- oh, I mean, subject. Just a slip of the tongue there… Well… No… I'm typing… How does that work…?