VAMPING THE OC

Part I

NOBLESSE OBLIGE

Harvey

Seth sat at the kitchen counter studying the booklet handed out in Sociology. He'd gone about the task of winnowing the list of volunteer "opportunities" methodically. After eliminating all the positions for which he was obviously unsuited – no one would ever hire him as the coach of a kid's team for anything – he found this exercise in self-administered triage had reduced his possibilities by over 90. It pleased him that he now had a list that was of manageable size but dismayed him that his talents and abilities were so little valued by the "Real World." Discovering that he had no skills transferable to a medical setting, such as HOAG, had been particularly disheartening.

"Well, here's a possibility. What do you think?" Seth stopped and glanced around furtively making sure that no one had heard him before dropping his head to the counter. He rapped it softly against the surface before straightening on his stool. He knew he was being overly paranoid. He'd said nothing that out of the ordinary. Normal people said similar sorts of things out loud all the time in moments of concentration. Still, it worried him that any slip might reveal to a hostile and suspicious world his secret. What had previously been his private, snarky, internal commentary on the world had gone public, external and acoustic. He talked to himself all the time now.

Strangely, Seth could pinpoint the exact day and hour when his chatter went "live". It had happened on a Saturday early in August. He'd taken the Summer Breeze out for a sail in the morning; and later in the evening, after allowing himself to be coaxed into going to the country club by his mom, he'd found himself at a fashion show. Like the secret master he was, Seth had earned points that day from his mom for doing exactly what he'd intended to do all along – see Summer strut her stuff on a runway.

It was after the show that Seth arrived at his self-diagnosis of seriously neurotic. He'd watched Summer and the other "models" depart for yet another of Holly's awesomely decadent beach parties and had decided that Seth Cohen needed some fresh air to clear his head. A walk home along the beach had seemed, at the time, the perfect restorative to him. He hadn't considered; however, where Holly's beach house lay in relation to his route home. As he made his way along the beach, he found that the light from the bonfires in front of her house and the music from the party kept him company and raised his walk home to a wholly new, never previously experienced level of misery.

It was at this low point that he started to talk to himself. All the things he'd kept bottled up for years: his feelings for Summer, his loneliness in Newport, and his miserable existence at Harbor found expression that night. A lifetime of frustration and misery came tumbling out as he described his situation to the night. Only it wasn't just the night, the ocean, and the stars that heard his pain. The feeling grew in him as he talked that someone was there, keeping pace with him, listening to him. He found it creepy but at the same time exciting. That had been how it started.

After that night he never knew when he would find himself talking to his new "friend". He found himself chattering away over solitary lunches at restaurants on the pier; delivering sarcastic commentary (he fervently hoped the water polo team would not hear) while walking to class; and musing about the meaning of life and the unfairness of his continued virginity while drifting aimlessly in his pool. This deranged behavior was hard enough to handle but the constant, paralyzing anxiety was worse. He lived in perpetual state of fear that Summer might someday become sufficiently aware of his existence to catch him in one of his neurotic soliloquies.

Could there be anything more humiliating than to have a life so lonely and empty of human contact that at sixteen he needed the crutch of an imaginary friend? Seth decided he couldn't think of anything.

He clung to two "facts"; however, in an effort to reassure himself that he hadn't totally lost it. His "Harvey" hadn't gained a voice of his own nor had he acquired a face. He might be talking to an imaginary person but he wasn't seeing things that weren't there nor hearing voices – yet. Seth had established these two events as a kind of mental dead man's switch for himself. If either occurred he'd know that he was in deep trouble. Then it would be time for him to push the speed-dial number of the family shrink programmed into his mother's phone.

His situation both comforted and dismayed him. To have someone, even an imaginary someone, who listened patiently to his ramblings and actually liked the person who lived in Seth Cohen's skin made him feel good. At other times this imaginary friend, what else could he be after all, scared him and caused him to question his grip on reality. No one had ever mentioned insanity in the family; but no one who knew Nana or Caleb Nichols would ever dismiss the possibility out of hand.

His conversations were one-sided but not one-way. He considered that further evidence of his mental instability. Of course when you're crazy, Seth decided, you get to make your own rules or what's the use of a good neurotic episode. He knew that there were differences in the silences he shared with his visitor.

He knew, without ever hearing from his "friend", what his opinion was on numerous subjects. "Harvey" shared his anger at the bullies who belittled and tormented Seth, he was disappointed at Seth's cowardice when it came to his relationship with Summer, and he seemed to be both amused and bemused by Seth's relationship with his parents.

Being an expert at shielding his parents from the unpleasant facts of his life, Seth had so far managed to hide this condition from them. As they always did, they accepted unquestioningly his assurances that all was well with him. He was not sure, however, how successfully he'd kept his problem hidden at school. He was so accustomed to attracting odd looks around Harbor that he couldn't tell if their character had changed or their number increased since his "friend" arrived in his life. His previously low-level paranoia was now in overdrive as though he was working off a triple espresso.

xxxxx

Seth took a breath and went back to reading the information on the positions remaining in the booklet. By the time he'd finished the last description and had taken his final note he had several pages of scribbles to decipher and review. He sat for a moment thumbing through his notes. One position he struck off his list because of the number of hours they wanted each week from their volunteers; two more were eliminated because they wanted volunteers on more than one day a week. (Seth had decided he'd inconvenience himself as little as possible to earn his 25 hours. So, his ideal position would require no more than four hours of his time and tie up only one evening a week). Passing his finalists through this screen left him with four candidates. All wanted volunteers with computer experience and all seemed to be something he was qualified for and might actually enjoy.

Taking the booklet and his notes with him, Seth went upstairs to his room to spend some time on the Internet with Mapquest locating the sites of these jobs. The program would give him some idea of how much of a commute each one would require. If he only had a car of his own… Until that miracle occurred he planned on borrowing a car from one of his parents. He'd be damned if he'd let them drive him. He wasn't some little kid who needed to be chauffeured everywhere. He'd drive himself or he wouldn't go - graduation requirement or not.

Seth shuffled through the maps and the driving directions from Harbor to the various sites that he'd printed out. Harbor had cast a wide net in hopes of finding enough sites for all its students. This was clear from the four candidates still on Seth's list: one was in Riverside County, two were in L.A. County, and one was in San Bernardino County. Seth copied the information for the four agencies onto a clean piece of paper and tucked it into the booklet.

The sound of a car door slamming brought a smile to his face. He was seriously hungry and he hoped the sound meant that Kirsten was home with dinner. It was his night to choose the menu and he'd e-mailed her at work with his choice – Thai. Seth picked up the volunteer booklet and headed downstairs to investigate.

He opened the door for his mother before she even had time to press the doorbell. Her arms were filled with blueprints and a fat binder but no takeout containers. Seth grabbed the door with both hands and sagged against it as though perishing from hunger.

"Mom, you forgot dinner!"

Kirsten almost managed to brush his cheek with her lips as she passed by him balancing the load in her arms. Seth reacted to their close encounter by swatting at the air around his head wildly as though fending off a swarm of killer bees. Stopping in the doorway, his head covered by his arms, he peeked out from beneath their protection.

"Mommmmmmm, please!" He said in his best, aggrieved, teen voice.

Kirsten only smiled. Continuing through the foyer into the house, she paused. Accustomed to ignoring his theatrics, her eyes paused only briefly on his tableau before moving on to the clock in the living room. "Dinner's in the backseat, Seth. Would you please bring it and my briefcase in? You might as well go ahead and eat, honey. Your father's going to be late and," Staring down at the cell phone she'd somehow managed to maneuver out of her suit pocket, she continued, "I need to return a lot of calls."

As she scrolled through the voice mails that had come in during her drive home, she said in a distracted tone, "They had Spring Rolls tonight."

"Oh, goooood." Seth dropped his arms, turned without another word, and trotted off toward the garage and dinner.

Looking up, she called after him before he could get out of ear range. "You know your dad likes them too! If there aren't any Spring Rolls when he gets home, you'll have to explain why."