PART 13: IN THE BEGINNING AGAIN
~3~
Trojan paced around his room. There had to be something in the air tonight,
because he couldn't remember ever feeling this wide awake at this time of
night. He stopped in his paces, realizing that this was the thirty-seventh time
he circled through his room. Why couldn't he sit still tonight?
Who was he kidding? He knew why. Too many things, tearing at his brains, to
many feelings that were standing straight across eachother, battling eachother.
Nothing made sense anymore.
That was all because of Jax. Why did he worry about the guy so much anyway?
Just because of that blood? And if he was really that worried, then why didn't
he went into Jax's room this morning, like he had intended to?
Oh god, this was confusing. He didn't like confusing things. Trojan liked
things to be simple and plain. He wanted to be simple and plain, like everyone
else.
*
"This is the highschool you'll be going to,"the 13-year-old boy was told.
"It's one of the best schools in town. Very expensive too, but it's worth it.
As long as you get a good education."
Trojan nodded at his father, not in a position to disagree.
"It's a boardingschool for boys only,"his mother said with one of those
horrible smiles of her. Bored and fake. Her plastic face twisted in a truly
scary way. Trojan noted that that was the most disgusting colour of lipstick
she had ever worn. Well, everything about her was disgusting really: her
stuck-up, bored attitude; her bleached blonde, permed hair (The Poodle, Trojan
had called her sometimes); her colourful designer-clothes; her expensive,
horribly over-done jewelry and that fake smile that bared all her eyeblinding
white teeth.
"That way you won't get distracted by girls during your study,"mother said in a
lame attempt to make a joke. She laughed at her own joke in a stomach-turning
way. Trojan wondered if his mother had ever hugged him, or taken real interest
in him instead of what he would be when he would grow up.
He asked himself the same question about his father.
"Well, we have to leave now,"his father said, inspecting his suit in the
mirror. Trojan nodded, they were going to a party. His dad had to, what he
called, 'network.' His mother would befriend all the wives of the old, rich men
there. They would all eat caviar and drink expensive champagne. Trojan had been
to one of those parties once, it had been hard for him to resist the temptation
to throw up until his esophagus would burst open.
It was probably just him, but he always had the feeling his parents didn't fit
him, that this 'lifestyle of the nouveau riche' didn't fit him. He developed
this funny mental image, about two kids that had to be delivered to their
parents, but accidently got mixed up. The mental image had turned into a story,
which had turned into Trojans personal truth. You see, it was comforting to
know he belonged somewhere else.
"Goodbye, sweetheart,"his mother said. There was no love in that 'sweetheart.'
She merely waved at him in a queen-like way, adjusted her boa and left. His
father gave him a simple nod and gone they were.
Trojan sighed. Oh well, at least now he had the house (and a huge house it was)
to himself.
*
Trojan wondered why he thought about his parents after all this time. He never
thought about them that often again. He didn't really care. He knew his parents
never really cared about the person he was. He figured his mother must've
probably gave birth to him with her high heels on, putting on some make-up
through contractions, and when the baby was finally born, she might've picked
it up for a second (probably wearing hygienic gloves) and then passed him on to
a nanny right away.
He had been nothing but an object to his parents. Some accesoire. All they
wanted for him was to be rich and get a good name. He would be a surgeon
ofcourse. Nobody asked about Trojans opinion on his this plan.
*
"Goodbye dear. Hope you'll enjoy your stay at this school,"his mother said,
blinking at the headmaster flirtaciously before she left. Well, Trojan was sure
he was not going to enjoy his stay at his school. Not like he had a choice. His
parents would spoil him to death, as long as he agreed with everything they
said. What every child would've considered heaven, was Trojans hell.
He hated those rich boardingschools, filled with stuck-up boys (just like me,
he thought regretful) and much ado about nothing. Walking through the
schoolcorridors, he got the scary feeling that he was supposed to believe the
rich were better than the poor, were better from birth. All the splendour in
the ridiculously fancy school made him think a full-out attack on everyone that
didn't make at least a million dollars a year was planned.
He was sickened at himself, really. And he was about to get even more sickened.
*
Trojan got a headache as he thought about it again. That school. He wished he
had never gone to that place.
*
Lessons were boring, teachers talked with a pompous accent that made Trojan
sick to his stomach, the boys were obnoxious and had their noses stuck-up too
high in the air to notice what was going on around them. They were wearing their
sweaters with the sleeves hanging over their shoulders, tied on their chest.
That had always made Trojan roll his eyes in disgust.
Everything here got him disgusted. Even himself.
He was the down-to-earth one there. The one that wasn't continually talking
about his dad's money, the one that didn't come driving up in a huge Mercedes,
saying: "I got my driver's license yesterday, and look what my parents bought
me." That type of behaviour just wouldn't suit him. He would wear skaterclothes
in his spare time instead of Ralph Lauren (skating was his favorite hobby back
then as well), he would listen to hip-hop instead of… well, who knows what
those guys listened to.
But, even though his reason tried to battle it, he felt he actually started to
like those guys. Or at least one of them. There was this nice guys among them,
that went by the name of Quinten. His dad owned a huge company, and he was
definitely one of the richest kids at that school, which meant a lot. He was
very nice, naïve, with sunlight-coloured hair and blue eyes.
Quinten didn't need to worry about being an outcast. Here, the amount of money
your parents had got you respect. Needless to say, Quinten was very respected.
He was the one that talked to Trojan, when he was sitting by his own. He was
sitting by his own a lot, usually reading or having his huge headphone on,
listening to hip-hop-classics, shutting the world out. The world didn't want
anything to do with him what so ever, it was too arrogant for that.
But Quinten wasn't like that, he was nice. He didn't cast 'that new kid' out.
He didn't need to fear any repercussions for not doing so, but that wasn't the
reason he had decided to talk to Trojan one day. The guy just seemed like he
had needed a friend.
But from day one Quinten was more than just a friend to Trojan. He never felt
the way he did when Quinten walked by, talked to him. He was so nice, so good
to him, so handsome.
When Trojans thoughts went that far, he froze all of the sudden. It was like he
had turned into an alien. He looked into the mirror and was disgusted by
himself. 'So handsome'…? What was wrong with him? That was something girls said
about guys, not something guys said about other guys. Was it? Oh god…
Trojan couldn't believe it, he hated himself for it. As if he wasn't weird
enough. He was officially a freak now. What if the others would find out, what
if his parents would find out?! Everybody would be sickened at the mere sight
of him! He couldn't let that happen.
The only thing Trojan could do was ignore Quinten as much as possible, and
tried to show as much interest in girls as possible. But that was hard, seeing
how there were now girls at school at all. Just him and the guys. And why
couldn't he think of them like guys, why couldn't he be normal friends with
them?
Quinten was a nice guy but didn't like to be ignored. So one day he asked
Trojan what was up with that, and that made Trojan lose it. He had been doing
his very best to stay away from Quinten, to push away this feelings he found
sickening, and it had stressed him out to no limit. But he couldn't show,
ofcourse, couldn't tell anyone. Then they would notice what he was…
A fight broke out between Quinten and him. He was terribly sorry afterwards,
ofcourse, but… at least he didn't have to worry about staying away from Quinten
anymore, as Quinten did that for him. The school allowed him to stay, but that
only made things worse for Trojan, as now he was truly alone, and he had
problems to deal with.
His parents only solution for his problems was to spoil him more, give him
everything he could possibly want. It just didn't make him happy.
And he was glad when the virus came and end it all. Glad when he could leave
the alabaster house of his now dead parents, knowing he never had to go back to
that school and never had to be a surgeon, and most important of all, never had
to see Quinten again.
He went somewhere where no one would disturb him. The woods. But eventually he
was taken in by three young people who lived in a cabin, and by then, Trojan
had been happy about it.
*
Trojan had hoped it would pass, the way he felt about Quinten. But with Jax
(god help me, he thought) it was the same thing all over again. He couldn't
face that the whole time. He couldn't ignore Jax the whole time, they were both
part of a relatively small tribe. How was he going to put up with this?