Chapter 1
John Davis smells like Play-Doh. When we were in elementary school, it wasnʼt a big deal. I mean, we were kids. Play-Doh was pretty high on the awesome scale. But there comes a time when a guy should stop smelling like crafting supplies and develop a more manly scent, like campfire or gym floor.
I had been roaming up and down the crowded street trying to ditch John and his noxious odor for over an hour, but he was too oblivious for it to work. He followed me to the trashcan, stood in line with me when I ordered a second corndog, and even waited outside the girlʼs bathroom.
“I still canʼt believe our senior year is finally here, you know? I feel like weʼve been waiting for this one year our whole lives.” He paused to lift up his NASCAR hat, running his fingers through his hair. My attention drifted as he blathered on about post-graduation plans. I briefly considered stabbing him into silence with the pointy end of my corndog stick, but decided there were too many witnesses. Granted, most everyone was too busy oooh-ing and ahhh-ing as Jase Donovan regaled them with his I beat the NCAAʼs top Point Guard in a one-on-one story to notice my existence, but I figured the screaming and blood might draw some attention.
I was trying desperately hard to not be jealous that Jase was entertaining the masses, leaving me at the mercy of the only other social outcast within a five mile vicinity. I knew this would happen the moment he suggested heading out to The Strip, a mile long stretch of road that served as Western Kentuckyʼs go-to summer spot. The shops and tourist attractions of The Strip were overrun with vacationing families and tanned locals. It was the second group that mobbed Jase the moment we got out of our car. My brother had taken his rightful place as the center of attention while I was relegated to the Loserʼs Table with John Davis, whoʼs inability to grasp the fact we hadnʼt been friends at any time during the past twelve years was truly spectacular.
I was coping by playing a round of Anywhere But Here, imaging myself trekking through Europe with nothing but a backpack and limit-free credit card, when John nudged me back to reality with his elbow. “Do you know them?” he asked, nodding towards two guys sitting on a bench in front of Lyndaʼs Beauty Parlor and Tanning Emporium. They were obviously brothers, both possessing the same chestnut colored hair and aristocratic bone structure. The younger one was sprawled out, a book propped against one knee. I tilted my head, attempting to read the title, but he was too far away to make out the words. I was half-tempted to just go over and ask. The slight smile playing on his lips as he scanned the pages made me think he wouldnʼt mind the interruption.
In contrast, the older brother looked as though he might be inclined to eat children on occasion. It wasnʼt just his size; there something about the way he sat, as if he was waiting to pounce on the first person who wandered too close. He scowled at the world in general, and me in particular.
They say a person can get used to anything. Maybe one day Iʼll get used to being stared at, but I doubt it. According to my mother, people stare because theyʼre intrigued by my “unique beauty.” Of course, sheʼs a mother. She has to say stuff like that.
The thing is, there really isnʼt anything horribly wrong with any of my physical features when taken individually. Hair that is so blond it looks silver? Kinda cool. Pale ivory skin that can only manage to burn and blister in the sun? Appeals mostly to the Goth and Victorian crowds, but not a tragic flaw. Eyes a peculiar shade of icy blue that makes them seem almost translucent?
Even those might have looked okay on the right person. The problem occurred when you put all those monochromatic features on a single individual. It made me a freak, a fact driven home by my bottom-rung social status and an endless supply of gawkers everywhere I went.
Depending on my mood, I tend to handle the staring in one of two ways -- either I ignore it or I meet and hold their gaze, knowing that people find it unnerving to have the freak stare back. Thanks to John, I was all kinds of annoyed, which made it a see-if-you-can-make-them-flinch kind of day. I raised my eyes to meet his and waited for a reaction.
He never even blinked.
I didnʼt realize how tense I was until someone grabbed my shoulder. I reacted to the sudden invasion of my personal space without thinking. Luckily, Jase managed to block my right hook. The sight of my fist trapped in his hand caused my stomach to clench. Had I really just tried to hit my brother? What was wrong with me?
“Do you want to go get ice cream? Yes or no?” Jase asked slowly, as if I was mentally impaired. I heard someone behind him snicker.
Two corndogs and an order of onion rings had more than filled me up, but I ended up agreeing to dessert just as an excuse to stay near Jase and put some distance between me and Bench Boy. The plan had been to stick with the group, but after a few minutes of watching Ellie Davis, Johnʼs somewhat skanky little sister, throw herself at my brother, I decided I was willing to risk being on my own. After everyone got their order, I quietly slipped away, heading towards the lake.
“What happened back there?” Jase asked as soon as we were out of earshot. I hadnʼt realized he had followed me, but I was grateful. Although, I could have done without the whole concerned hovering thing he seemed intent on doing since my little episode.
“I wasnʼt trying to hit you. You just caught me off guard.”
“I said your name like five times. You were seriously zoning.” He jumped ahead, blocking my path. “Was someone bothering you?”
“It was just some guy with a staring problem.”
Jase worked the muscles in his jaw.
“Calm down. It was nothing.” I spotted a nice flat rock in the shade and started towards it.
The lake was considerably less crowded than the surrounding shops, restaurants, and attractions A few families splashed in the water, but most people preferred the public pool, since it didnʼt have the top layer of green slime that may or may not contain byproducts from the nearby chemical plants. We had a large chunk of the beach to ourselves, which suited me just fine.
Despite assuring Jase it was nothing, the incident with Sir Stares-A-Lot had shaken me up.
Iʼve dealt with my fair share of jerks, bullies, and weirdos over the years, but none of them had ever affected me like this guy. He hadnʼt done anything but look at me a whole lot longer than was socially acceptable, yet I was genuinely frightened of him.
I would have driven myself crazy trying to convince myself that he wasnʼt, in fact, a serial rapist or mass murderer, but luckily I had my brother there to distract me.