13 years
When one is a foster child the key is to be a total bitch until you find a rich family. One with the proper suckers willing to adopt you within seconds. Not that I fecking needed the money, just that it's a nice cushion when you need something to lie back on. This is an imperative achievement, even if it means moving to the wonderful shite-town formally known as Brighton. I couldn't stand England. I had been there for almost five months at this point and I was still "that Irish fag".
It had been 2 years since the death of my mother. Every time I was alone I heard her voice. Aim or try. No more of the phrase, no less. It was stuck in my head. It had replaced the voices who told me I was worthless, because I was finally worth something. I was worthy enough to get rid of y mother. I had worth. But I kept hearing that phrase. Aim or try, Aim or try. I would doodle the words all over my books. I played around with the words, making sentences, making names. It had almost consumed my life.
I took a deep breath and plunged into the pool at my school, using my arms and legs to propel me to the other side. Stroke, kick, breathe. Stroke, kick, breathe. The relentless pattern of the movement of my body was my only release from the constant buzz of my overdeveloped brain. It was the only way I could get away from the bastards I lived around, the hell I lived in.
My mother's last words echoed in my head, pushing me harder every lap. Aim or try, 8 laps, aim or try, 9 laps, aim or try, 10 laps, break.
Exhaustion was weak, but even my body had its limits. Every ten laps I told myself I needed to stop. I would stop, get out of the pool, and drink some water. This time however, it was different.
As I stepped out of the pool, looking or my bottled water, I heard someone clap slowly. "Jesus mate, you're fucking brilliant!" A boy two years my senior, yet in my class - I was advanced for my years - was standing by the side of the pool.
I nodded, keeping up my timid persona as to blend in with the stereotype of how I should be. "Thanks."
I stared at him. No one wanted to talk to me - a fact which I relished - I was the freak, two years too smart (and smarter still, I wasn't too keen on drawing too much attention to myself), and the "little pervy Irish bloke that'll grope you if you're not paying attention". The boy in front of me was Carl fecking Powers. He was the most popular boy of my year. I underestimated him, I thought he would be too cool to talk to me. Hearing sincere praise from someone who is not supposed to praise me was a shock. I was in awe, and it was the last time I would make that mistake.
Carl smiled at me. "Jimmy Davenport right?"
I nodded. "I don't like the name Jimmy. Or Davenport. It's my mum's name." I mumbled weakly. He was talking to me, he knew my name, and he was being sincere. I didn't know how to react. No one had ever treated me so kindly.
"What would you like me to call you then?" Carl's mouth quirked into a half smile and his eyes glistened as if he had made some kind of joke.
I was bewildered. "Fag seems to work for everyone else." I looked at my feet, I was letting my emotions get to me. I would blame it on the young age, but if I was to tell the truth it was the overwhelming loneliness. I would have done a lot for a kind word. I had never been treated in this way before, and it is what I wanted the most in the world at this moment.
Carl frowned and looked at me in pity. Looking back on it I should've wiped that fucking expression off his normal little bastard face. I didn't. I just stood there, loving the attention. "You actually gay?"
I looked at him and shrugged my shoulders. I didn't really care for anything sexual. I supposed I was more attracted towards men, but I had never had the experience on either side to be able to tell. I didn't even want the experience in the first place. I was still wet from the pool, and I had started to catch a chill. Shivering, I looked at him like a weak little puppy dog would look at a glue factory. No, that's a horse. Fuck it, you get the picture. I was weak. Defenseless. Stupid.
Carl looked at me with an expression I wasn't familiar with. Back then I would have described it as "shy and curious", now I know the expression to have been one of pure lust. Granted, it was probably shy lust, but lust nonetheless.
Carl went over to the table where my towel had been unceremoniously thrown earlier. He picked it up and walked over to where I was standing. Handing over the towel, he looked at me with that same lusty look. "I don't mind if you are."
I smiled, grateful to him for fetching my towel. As I reached out to take the towel from him, our hands brushed. Blushing, I looked him in the eye and quickly looked away. "Thanks." I muttered.
"I'm Carl Powers." He put his hand out for me to shake.
Smiling and draping the towel around my cold shoulders, I shook his hand. "James." I thought of my mum's last name, Davenport. I cringed. It was that moment that I changed my name. "James Moriarty." Moriarty. Aim or try. "Don't call me Jimmy. And don't call me Davenport either." I paused, searching his expression for any signs of malice. "You can call me James."
His hand lingered longer than it should have. "You can call me anything you like as long as you call me." He winked at me, a primitive gesture that I have always found to look like an epileptic beaver trying to dispose of his little sister's fecal matter. Despite my 'best intentions', I blushed and smiled back.
In a weak attempt to flirt with the boy, I managed to spit out a few weak words. "How can I call you if I don't have your number?"
Carl smiled at me and wrote down a number on my arm using a permanent marker he got from his pocket. Looking back at me, he grinned. "You should join the team. You're bloody brilliant James." He put his hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes as if he was going to kiss me. Blushing, he squeezed my shoulder, and walked away, motioning with his hands to call him. I hadn't felt so happy since my mum died.
A/N Hey all! I am so sorry it has taken me forever to get this posted. After 13 years is over I have about one more year and then all of my previously written things were lost somehow. So it took me a while to get back into the groove after I lost all of that work. So hopefully I will be able to update more frequently! Thank you to all of those who have stuck with me, I'm so sorry it has been far too long.
Love and muffins,
Shai