I wanted this story to eventually turn into something I could be proud to say was mine—something I made.
Today's chapter, "Different Boy", is going to realease a different side to Brown Horse, hence the name of the chapter. I want this chapter to show how the characters react to loneliness and cold rejection. The story written by Chris, Darcy, and Leo in this chapter may include an intense scene. This is just a disclaimer to skip to italic part if that stuff bothers you!
Other than that, I do hope you enjoy "Different Boy" and please comment your thoughts. I love to here from you!
So, without further adieu, I present to you...
Chapter 6—Different Boy
After we tossed the food down our throats, we sat to write. I have to admit, my cooking still sucked. Though, it was edible. Against his protests, I made Leo start the first line. He didn't like it because he didn't want to start out cheesy. This time, the words came easily.
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Every evening, I rule the world.
I smirked and wrote the next line.
I reign over people in a way that makes me feel good. This is my first year on the throne.
I handed Christopher Robin the pencil. He shyly took it and scribbled a line.
My crown is my baseball cap and my subjects are every person who's looked at me badly.
I smiled. I didn't expect Chris to write something deep like that. Leo took the pencil. Our story went a little like this:
My subjects really aren't loyal at all. In fact, I don't think they like me.
They don't call me your highness or King. My subjects call me "creep" and "weirdo."
Mother, the previous heir to the throne, says I have social issues. She directs me to a jester who tries to help me. Mother calls him a "therapist."
That therapist has no respect for my royal title. He doesn't understand my feelings or anything. Dumb jester.
One day, while at my kingdom, a peasant tore my possessions away from me and brutally beat me. No one helped or even watched me.
It was at that moment I realized that I'm not a king. I don't have a golden scepter or a kingdom or even loyal subjects, forget friends. I realized I was alone and there was nothing I could do. I stopped seeing the therapist and became interested in something else—guns. It seemed like I was really holding onto something.
I learned to use them for one reason. I wanted to overthrow the kingdom. Although I was alone, I wasn't forced to map out the school all by myself. I met a rebel solider who believed in the same thing I did. She had been prepared to take over the kingdom for years. She never had guns though. She provided me with key info and I gave her one of my rifles. I guess both us rebels had a mutual relationship. Neither of us cared for other people.
So, on a Tuesday when we were supposed to be sick at home, we were packing bags and loading guns. I drove us to the school with glee on my face. The rebel shared my look.
We reached the inside and looked around. No one seemed to notice us. No one paid attention to their kings. I raced into the cafeteria, abandoning my plan. I shot rapidly at everyone I could see.
They all deserved it—every single one of them.
*****
Christopher Vermont was a kind guy. He developed into my good friend over time. We walked into the mall holding Starbucks and dignity. The fact that he was homosexual didn't bother me. I actually liked it. It gave me vision from the other side—literally. Chris didn't act bratty or vain like commercial gays. Chris acted like a regular joe. He didn't bring up his sexuality too much. He acted like he was ashamed of it. Though, I'd always find him watching a group of guys passing by with their girlfriends. Then, he'd smile and sigh through his teeth.
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"Chris, you wrote really well yesterday." He smirked and shrugged.
"I'm not professional." I nodded.
"I really didn't expect those words to come out of you." I replied.
"Are you still sure about astronomy? Literature could use a passionate writer like you." Christopher nodded.
"Thanks, but no thanks, Darcy." I smirked.
"Well, at least go talk to those boys. I can tell you want to." His face turned red.
"I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't offend you or anything." I chuckled and shook my head. Though Chris was an amazing boy, he still apologized more than the average person. I shook my head.
Chris asked, "Why isn't Peter here with you?"
"He's filling in for a friend for a couple days at the loading dock downtown. He'll be there for several days," I replied.
"He's definitely....quirky."
"Leo's always wanted Peter Pan to go off to college already. They've never liked each other very much." I glanced over at a cell phone stand.
"What happens when he moves? You'll still be here, right?" I didn't like discussing Peter's upcoming move. It made me feel like I was losing something important.
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"I'll still be here. I'll probably be writing another book. I think he'll find a girl in Louisiana and probably get hooked. Then, he'll forget about me, and, hopefully, I'll forget about him."
My eyes ducked. Peter was like family to me. It's difficult to try to forget about family. It made uncomfortable to imagine Peter with his arm around another. Maybe I was acting weird being so protective towards my best friend. I convinced myself that I just didn't want him hurt. Peter Pan didn't look like a boy that would have a girl with him. I tried not to express my worry for Peter. I merely sipped Starbucks and walked blindly ahead.
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Like I said a little while ago, this story is not about me. This story isn't about Peter Pan or my writing or even Christopher Vermont and the tragedy that was blessed onto him. This story that I've promised myself into writing is and always will be surrounded around Leo Blanchard. It's focused on his dreams, his love, and his strength. I'm going to be honest when I say that Leo wasn't an important person to the world.
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To many people, he was only some Starbucks cashier who barely got by. To Peter, he was the wrong answer. To Chris, he was the one person who could put a real smile on his face. To me, he was a story because that was what he was. Leo Blanchard was the wrong answer. He was the reason Christopher Robin didn't slip into depression after the fall of a fairy princess. He was a story. He was the four stories we managed to write. Leo Blanchard was bliss.
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He shrugged off his jacket and gave it to the wind. Leo pried his apartment door open and fell onto the couch, tired and drowsy. I need a drink, he decided quickly. Leo stumbled into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of fireball he'd been saving. He popped off the top and poured it into a glass.
Leo stared at the bottle and the liquor. Confidently, he downed it. The alcohol trickled down his throat like water would. It finally settled in his stomach before Leo threw it back up. Then, he fell to his knees, crying and not knowing why.
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Here's the screwy thing about life: you're either too strong for your own good or extremely dependent. Rarely could you get in between that. I was too strong. Christopher Robin was too weak along with Peter Pan. Leo was the strongest out of all of us. I know we tried to love. But, after it all, our hearts had hardened. There was no way to release that pain but smashing it away completely.
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