Warning: this story contains mature themes and may not be suitable for all audiences, view discretion is strong advised.
This story is one big genderswap. Almost every TDI character has been given the opposite gender, though rest assured that their names are all quite similar. The writing is mine, though the idea and characters belong to keytaro.
If you would like more information/pictures on characters then please visit keytaro's profile on Deviant Art, please just remove the spaces.
http: / www. keytaro. deviantart . com
"I feel so completely crazy sometimes. I don't know which way I'm facing. All I can do is just shove all this shit to the side and try to move forward. "
- Nic Sheff, Tweak: Growing up on Methamphetamines
The most annoying thing about him was his smile, and the fact that his 'midnight' coloured robe had obviously not been made for men. The hem of the dark silk ended just past his hairy buttocks, meaning that any movement on his part permitted me to see…everything. I had no choice though but to accept that there was nothing I could do about it: I was wet, cold, scared, and desperate.
Chris McClain. Noah had written on a scrap piece of paper with an address and a phone number just in case. His office smelled primarily of cigarette smoke and alcohol, which made sense because from the layout of his room it was obvious he did both. There were three ashtrays laid out, one on the filing cabinet, one on his desk, and another on top of the computer, each one of them filled with thousands of little flecks of the grey scale. Empty glasses were everywhere, as well as bottles varying in shapes and sizes.
Nervously I sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair on the opposite side of his desk as he typed away at something on his computer. In my lap, I fiddled with the slip of paper Noah had given me. Twisted and turned it, folded it, then smoothed it out again, the texture became a little softer each time. The ink the address and number had been written in smudged from my sweat. It was far too warm in his office. The only noise in the entire room was the tap-tap-tapping that came from the keys as his fingers quickly moved themselves along the keyboard.
"Sooo…you're the kid Noah told me about," Chris said as he finished typing and rolled away from his computer so he was facing me. "Why don't you brief me on a few details and then we can get started here."
My mouth suddenly became very dry and my voice completely disappeared. I opened and closed my mouth, but no sound came out at the realization of what I was giving him: once someone knows your name they know who you are and so easily can they own you. If I gave him who I was he could turn me in and I'd…
From his front pocket he pulled out a carton of Marlboro cigarettes and tapped one out for himself, then offered the box to me. Automatically, and purely out of politeness I reached forward, then stopped immediately when I realized what I was being offered. I had never smoked a cigarette before and never had planned to but then again there were a hundred thousand thoughts going through my mind running at lightning speed and I really needed to focus on just a couple so what if smoking helped? But then again…
"It'll ease your nerves, kid."
And that was all the reassurance I needed. Carefully, Chris tapped out another so the orange butt stuck out and I grabbed it. He smirked and pulled out his lighter, lighting his with a sharp click. I observed carefully at how he inhaled as the flame was held at the tip, then he reached across the desk for me. Without grace or manners I leaned forward and did just as Chris had and inhaled deeply. Immediately my lungs seemed to crap out, my throat burned, and my eyes watered - I coughed a moment later. Once the coughing died down there was a bad taste in my mouth, sort of stale.
"Alright, now that we've successfully relaxed," I gave him a dirty look and almost growled as his smile widened, "why don't you tell me who you are."
Again, I hesitated, but Chris was finished with being sympathetic.
"Come on. I already have a broad waiting for me in the bedroom. I can't help you unless I know who you really are."
Without any choice I nodded and lifted my hips as I reached into my damp back pocket and pulled out my leather wallet. Carefully, I opened it and slid out my Go-Card from a slot and handed it to him. The smooth plastic glided from my hand as he took it.
He read the name once, then he slumped back into his chair and read it again, blowing out a low whistle. "Pryde? Jesus Christ." Slowly, he drew his eyes away from my student ID card and met my eyes. Softly he said, "kid, what kind of trouble are you in?"
I pushed my hair out of my face and took in a deep breath. The phone that I had fallen asleep holding said in neat little red letters, 'No Missed Calls'. It should have been expected really; he never made it to a birthday party. Really he hardly showed his face, but I couldn't help but hope that for once, maybe just maybe he would call - he would care.
I never knew my mother, but I did know my father. My father was the type of man that you could never impress no matter what your grades are. No matter how far your arms reach is he'd want you farther. If you've gone as far as you could, if there's no possible way to ever improve then you're a failure. My father was the kind of man that delivered your teenager angst on a silver platter, and I was the one at his feet thanking him for it.
"Asshole," I whispered under my breath and tossed it over my shoulder, the fall cushioned by my down comforter and landed with a soft thump. Despite the dejection there was no time for feeling bad for myself since I still had to complete my morning routine.
I showered, my muscles all loosened under the hot water and my stress got lost in the steam. With the soap I washed away all my problems and rinsed them off, making myself a new canvas. I got out of the shower and got changed, I painted up a new picture of myself, one where I was above all my peers. I ate breakfast to nourish my mind completely and totally - an organic fruit salad and a toasted whole wheat bagel. The taste of cantaloupe lingered in my mouth before I brushed my teeth vigorously and replaced the cantaloupe with minty freshness. Despite the minty freshness though, I did not feel as good as the commercial said I would.
By the time I was finished Noah rang the doorbell and his face appeared on a little monitor by the door. Like every morning he sported a nice pair of dark bags under his eyes and a jumbo 7-Eleven coffee cup clutched in his hand.
"Come on. We're five minutes late as of this moment," Noah held his watch up to the camera to prove his point. The bright green boxy numbers glared at me through the camera.
I pushed down the button on the mike and leaned forward, "yeah. I'll be out in a second."
Noah let out a scoff and muttered a few more things before he turned around and marched back to his car.
Sighing, I hurried over to the front door, simultaneously trying to pull on my jacket at the same time. At the door, I glanced into the long mirror hanging on the wall and checked off that my hair was fine. Then I took a seat on a small wooden bench beneath mirror and grabbed my shoes. Inside them were already a pair of clean white socks that I placed in them the night before and yanked them on. The soft warm fabric was a relief after walking around all morning bare foot.
I hopped up once my shoes were on and grabbed my backpack off the ground, swung it over my shoulder and dashed outside. Automatically the doors locked behind me and I saw Noah's old red Toyota Tercel parked outside the gates. Once he saw me the engines went on and smoke started pouring from the exhaust.
"You take too long! Now we're ten minutes late!" He shouted out his window like he really cared. Every morning we were late and every morning our teachers did not care. Top students shouldn't have to attend a class as useless as Homeroom.
At the gates I moved to a pillar close by and reached behind the key were a small number pad was. Without even needing to look I pushed in the numbers 4582 and steadily the gates opened. Noah honked until I was in the car, it smelled like pine trees and it felt like an oven. Patiently, and without a word between us we waited for the gates to close. When they did, and we finally heard the click Noah backed out of the driveway and tore off down the road.
Noah clicked his tongue in disdain, as if he actually cared about the schedule we had to meet, though usually he was the one who told me to take my time. Sometimes we even went into McDonald's for some hash browns - always his idea.
"Well aren't we in a good mood today?" I asked sarcastically and leaned back in the chair with my arms across my chest.
"What are you talking about? I'm in a great mood," he said dryly and took a long drink of his coffee, "today I just didn't feel like being late. This happened to Cody. He started skipping a lot because he didn't need to go to his classes since he was acing every single one of them. Not one of his teachers said a thing and then suddenly - bang!" Noah slapped down on the steering wheel for emphasis, "he's expelled from the school."
"Yes, well we're not skipping, Noah."
"Yes. But one day we might."
"You know they're all worthless in our conquest to rule the world." I said in hopes of lightening the mod.
"Shut up."
Normally I was the paranoid one, I couldn't help but roll my eyes and just completely let it go…and talk about something more important, me.
"How's the research about me going?"
Noah shrugged his shoulders and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, "Aren't we a curious kitten this morning?"
What do you do when you want to murder your best friend for being unbearable some mornings? I had no clue as I sighed and leaned back into my seat. The smell of the coffee filled the car and from the corner of my eye it called to me, but with Noah's sour mood I didn't want to know what would happen if I touched it. Probably would bite my head off.
The rest of the car ride was driven in silence with Elton John singing in the background his cover of 'Pinball Wizard' by The Who, over and over again. The deaf dumb and blind kid sure played a mean pinball apparently.
When we finally got to the school we were twenty minutes late and Noah dropped me off at the front doors while he went to park, claiming I ruined the piano solo so I wasn't welcome. I did not buy it though and just assumed he was texting his secret boyfriend he chose to tell no one about.
The halls in the school were deserted as I quietly made my way down the hall towards my locker. Even in converse my footsteps seemed to resonate through the halls and every class I passed someone turned to look at me. After the fifth person my ears began to heat up and I stared at the tips of my shoes as I walked.
From my locker I grabbed my binders, pencil case, and my lucky rabbit's foot that I kept hanging on a hook on my locker. It came from the first time I ever went hunting and then I was off, clicking down the halls and disrupting classes. If I wasn't an honour student a teacher would've given me a dirty look, but in the world I lived in, honour student was equivalent to the school football heroes in high school drama's.
Finally, as I made it to homeroom my teacher gave me a dirty look, but I continued on as I normally would anyways. It was a bullshit class every Monday where you spent your time working on whatever the hell you haven't completed. If you're a good student though you basically deface your lined sheets of paper or the desk and what not.
"You're late Mr. Pryde," He said in a tired voice, and rolled his eyes as I shrugged.
"Sorry sir. I felt it was much better use of my time if I spent that extra thirty minutes getting the minimum amount of sleep rather than sitting in a desk watching the seconds tick by." I responded without missing a beat and ignored the glares I was getting from my classmates. Could I help it if I was right? Mr. DuWolf even agreed as he shut his mouth firmly after and dropped his eyes back to his paperback copy of 'Gone With The Wind'.
In my desk I pulled out my cell phone and I stared at the phone history one more time - just in case he decided to call. There was nothing. Instead I texted Noah as he sat in a science classroom most likely attempting to master the art of telekinesis.
Behind me I could hear whispers and feel angry stares as the buttons on my phone clicked as I typed in the words 'I want to die right now'.
"No texting during class." A pimple infested boy in a black puffy jacket sneered to me.
Slowly I turned around to face him, raising my chin just slightly to give myself more class, "and how does this concern you? Does my texting distract you from drawing your pornographic stick figures?"
The boy stood up and towered over me, despite his ugly face he looked to be about a head taller than me with twice the amount of testosterone, "you wanna go, faggot?" he hissed as his eyes narrowed and he held out his arms as if waiting.
Immediately, Mr. DuWolf sprung into action, five foot four and he bustled through the desks and placed a firm hand on the pimple infestation's chest.
"Calm down. No one's going anywhere in this class or will I have to call the principal to straighten things out?" he asked as he placed his hands on his hips like he would if he were addressing a two year old.
The pimple infestation made a growling sound in his throat and sat back down in his seat. The chair made a jeering scraping sound against the linoleum as he slid back towards his desk to continue the stick figures.
It was how the majority of most of my days went. Because I set myself higher and simply emitted the confidence that I could in fact do whatever I wanted, I basically could. Had the pimple infestation done the same thing he would be able to get away with murder. Aristotle said that any compelling argument contained three major elements: ethos, pathos, and logos, and they generally worked on all teachers. Rhetoric never failed me.
Second period was my lunch block and I went into the library, it smelled like lemon pledge and everyone in the room looked like they were developing a headache from the acrid lemon scent. With a sigh I moved over to the table closest to the open window and took a seat. The other girl who sat at the table across from me smiled nervously and waggled her gawky fingers at me. With a sigh I returned the gesture with a nod then pulled out my Macbook so I could look busy.
All around me I could feel the stares of the geeky (but still somewhat cute) girls in the library and their hushed voices as they depicted every last detail about me. From what I could get before I stuck in my earphones was how moe I looked with a sweater vest on and how much they wanted to tear it off me. Needless to say that was where Beethoven on my Ipod came in handy. I could get lost in that romanticists music every day for the rest of my life.
After maybe ten minutes of me randomly surfing the interwebs Noah's face peered through the small glass windows through the library doors. Once our eyes met he pushed open the door and hurried over to me, his hair frazzled and his eyes a little wide.
"You, we're going for lunch now." He said to me and nearly pulled out his hair as I packed up my laptop. Once I was finished zipping up my bag and securing all straps Noah grabbed me by the wrist and proceeded to drag me out of the library. Every pair of female eyes were on us.
Without a word he continued to drag me outside the school and to his car. By that time I knew the routine and without any questions I got inside. The car still smelled like the coffee Noah had been drinking (probably from spilling when he was parking) and there was a wet patch on his seat. I got in without saying a thing and buckled up, Noah did the same and flicked off the radio as he turned the car on.
As he drove he constantly ground his jaw and took risks he wouldn't normally. His eyes remained fixed on the road in front of him but it was like he didn't really see it.
"You know, this is like, your third time skipping. You're on your way to being just like Cody." I said snidely and waited for him to tell me off with a smirk.
"Shut up."
So I did. I didn't say a word as we continued to speed down the streets, even speeding down school zones. It was irritating, like I was just waiting to get my head chewed off but I didn't do anything. I could understand being angry for something I did, but from what I could remember Noah woke up on the wrong side of the bed and had taken it out on me.
Finally, we pulled into an empty looking Denny's and hurried inside with our bags in tow. We were seated as far away from the elderly there as possible and kept our heads down.
"Can I get you two something to drink?" the chipper waitress asked as she set down our menus and took out a small notepad from her waitress utility belt.
"Two coffees," Noah said flatly, despite knowing that I preferred Earl Grey tea.
"No problemo. I'll have those coffees here for you in a jiffy!" she said with a smile and turned away, bouncing with every step she took.
Noah waited until he was out of earshot before he motioned shooting himself in the head and muttering, "I want her to die."
"She was just being nice." I responded and glanced down the menu, "anyways. I wanted tea you know. Tea. Not coffee, I'm not addicted to the stuff like you." I glared up at him and waited for the guilty apology.
"I get it. You're manstruating today but I don't want to put up with it. This weekend when I was researching you I discovered something - well with the help of my friend I discovered something fucking massive." He said in a hushed voice and glanced in either direction to make sure the idiot waitress wasn't coming. Then he hoisted his shoulder bag onto his lap and pulled out folder labelled 'PRYDE' .
"I got your coffees!" The waitress cried as she appeared out of nowhere and placed both steaming mugs down in front of us, then the tray of creamer. "Now are you two ready to order?"
"Give us a few minutes." Noah said without sparing her a glance.
A frown set in the waitresses brow but she nodded her head and feigned a smile, "no problem hun, I'll be back in five." her voice was forced cheery before she turned around and bustled away.
When she was a fair distance away Noah took the sugar packets from the small glass holder and ripped five into his mug and stirred it round and round. Then slowly he brought it to his mouth and glanced in all directions. When he felt the coast was clear he spoke again, his voice hardly above a whisper. I had to lean forward and strain my ears just to hear him.
"I don't even know how to say this, so I'm going to be blunt. You're in huge fucking trouble my friend. You know how you're richer than God? How your dad is always away on business trips?"
"Speak up for Christ's sake! I can't hear you!" I whispered back and poured some cream into my coffee.
Noah's eyebrow twitched, "I can't fucking speak up! Even walls have fucking ears you idiot! Anyone could be listening right now!" He slammed his cup of coffee down on the table with a bang. The brown liquid inside rocked back and forth quickly and a glop fell onto the ugly tabletop.
The diner stopped moving, the five people inside including the waitress stared at us.
"Sorry!" I called and waved to them, when they turned back to whatever else they were doing I shot daggers at Noah. "What the hell man! Why did you take me to a Denny's if you're going to be this much of a bitch!"
"Goddamnit, you're really not taking this seriously, are you? Both your parents are high up in rival mafias! Got it!" Noah hissed under his breath and opened the folder, pulling out several different documents and newspaper articles.
I stopped pouring the cream, stopped stirring and stared at him. Obviously, Noah had gone off his rocker, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Are you crazy Noah? My parents aren't in the mafia! My dad's just a regular business man!"
"Where does he work then?" Noah asked, his voice growing louder.
I opened my mouth to reply with something along the lines of, 'why he works for _ of course!' But I couldn't figure out what was supposed to fill in the blank. I stopped, and I forced myself to remember, when I was younger I must have asked where he worked.
"I'm waiting," Noah said in a sing song voice and tapped his fingers against the table top. Every noise was jeering, from the tapping of Noah's fingertips to the sound of the TV in the background. The pair of old men across the diner bitching about how their grandkids weren't calling, I could hear everything because I couldn't think of anything.
"I don't know." I finally said and took a deep breath.
Noah placed the documents back into the folder then closed it and slid it towards me. Then he reached into his back pocket and handed me a small blue slip of paper with a name, address, and phone number written on it.
"I know this guy, he'll hook you up with a fake ID. You gotta get the hell out of here fast and Chris will help you as long as you have the cash to do it."
Chris leaned back in his chair and finished off his third cigarette, "your new last name will be Smith. Mundane, boring, perfect. What do you want your first name to be?"
I sighed and dabbed the cigarette out in the ashtray in front of me, despite there being half of the thing left to smoke. A new name, a new identity that I would go about with for the rest of my life.
"Carter."
"Father? I am your son. That is only a kitten. Why do you abandon me to chase after it?"
- Neil Gaiman, The Sandman