COMING SOON!
Story by: Kiya.
- [Sponsor: Moon Costumes - Anime Cosplay Shop!]
- Created By MissMickey112
Spontaneous Combustion (old story)
The note was found in every locker. Written in the imperfect slanted penmanship of Memphis Henry Gregory.
He was popular, which was the most surprising part. He had friends. He had so many girlfriends he couldn’t count them all on his hands, toes and the hands of his neighbor. He was happy.
I crumbled the note into my fist.
Last night we talked on the phone, as usual. We discussed the football game he played that day. Star quarterback, as stereotypical as could be. He seemed normal, jokingly mentioning how I was sitting next to Janine May, a girl who had, according to Memphis, taken my fancy a couple of months back. He asked about a test we were having later on in the week, as if he were going to be there to take it. He had already placed the letters.
No one understood why he hung out with me. I, especially, couldn’t figure out why he felt the need to drag me to his parties and introduce me to his friends. Named ‘the-kid-with-the-weird-eye’ since the start of high school. Whatsitsname, Memphis’ friend. I was fine with it. I was comfortable with my life, waking up every day, going to school, coming home, watching TV, going to sleep. I was normal. I had friends, of course. No one is completely friendless. Jay and Chris. Katie, Helen, Dora. We were all friends, but none of them knew Memphis. They thought I had gone crazy when I started going to his parties, hanging out at his house, swimming in his pool. I had finally lost my marbles.
I had friends, but I wasn’t popular. Senior in high school, C-student. I was your average loser with no spare money because he never managed to get that job.
Memphis was weird, seemingly uncaring about the thoughts of others. He dramatized everything, creating the most (and least) interesting soap opera imaginable.
*
“Hey, Michaels.” He said, leaning against my lunch table. My hands, holding my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, froze halfway to my mouth. We had the attention of the entire cafeteria. It wasn’t everyday the most popular guy in school walked over to the loser section of the cafeteria and struck up a conversation like he knew the kid personally.
“…Hi.” I said after the silence became excruciating. He smiled, teeth and all.
“Whattcha doing Saturday?” He said it like he cared, and that was enough for me to snap out of my trance. Another prank, Ha-fucking-ha. Well, might as well play along, provide a bit of entertainment for the rest of the school. I set my sandwich down carefully, putting my elbows on the table and smiled back, exaggerating my attention just a bit. Jay shifted next to me, letting me know he knew my game.
“Nothing, why?”
“Well, I’m having a party. Wanna come?” Well, that was unexpected. I was speechless for a moment, letting the silence stretch on again.
“Er…” I finally managed after a bit and he just flashed another grin, reached over to punch me in the shoulder.
“Good man! See you there.” And then he was gone. The sound of his footsteps the only noise in the large room at Radcliffe Private High School. I just sat there, shocked, staring blankly at the place where Memphis Henry Gregory just stood. As whispers and then loud gossip started, I shook myself and picked up my sandwich. As I took a bite, I shifted my gaze to look at Jay.
“Well?” I asked after chewing and swallowing. He just shook his head, a curious smile forming on his lips, the skin around his lips stretching slightly.
“Nothing, kid. Nothing.”
*
The bell rang, dragging me back to the present, and I hitched my bag up higher. I could feel the stares on my back as I made my way to my English class. I ignored them and took my usual seat. Third row, two seats in. Jay looked up from his sketch pad and smiled hesitantly at me. He knew, but he didn’t understand. He didn’t know Memphis. He was just a kid, a very much liked kid, in the crowd who killed himself over a bit of teenage angst, to him. I didn’t return the gesture, just pulled my books from my bag and started to scribble the notes from the board.
Jay was tall. Much too tall for a 17 year old boy, towering over everyone at 6’ 7”. His skin was the most interesting color of melted dark chocolate. His hair, cut short, dyed a vibrant blue. He had deep, dark eyes the color of midnight and dimples on his cheeks. He was thin, but not scrawny. We were friends since kindergarten, best friends until junior year when Memphis took his place. He never seemed to mind, content with letting someone else take up my time.
He was an artist. Charcoal frequently darkened his fingertips, a splatter of paint decorated his cheek. He carried his sketchpad under his arm and nothing else. His pencil behind his ear. He was a day-dreamer, drawing detailed images of made-up places, of people who he never met. He would listen to you speak while drawing your emotions, a blue bird seated on a bridge, it’s outline perfect, the light flutter of it’s wings easily imagined. He was a loner, happily occupying himself with half-finished pictures of dragons and unicorns. He didn’t have many friends, but the few he had understood him. They let him be. Let him doodle on the edges of their reports as he proof-read them. He was appreciated by those he trusted. I, being one of them, would know.
“You okay?” His voice was deep, soothing as he leaned over to mumble in my ear as our English professor droned on about our current book. I nodded, turning my head to flash him a brief smile. He smiled back and I could see in his eyes that he was worried. I turned my face away, staring intently at Mr. Crawford, and from the corner of my eye I watched him frown. But he returned his gaze to his sketchpad, picking up the pencil he had laid on top.
“Lillian married Jeb because of a sense of obligation.” Nick Meyer, the class know-it-all. He was known for his opinions, always bizarre, always exaggerated. He was a very defensive kid. Say his shirt looks nice and he’ll snap your head off for being sarcastic-even if you’re not.
“Is that so?” Mr. Crawford was the type of teacher who’d sell his knowledge for a soda can. He loved teaching. It wasn’t the money, he was good. We actually learned.
“No,” I found myself saying and everyone was staring. I never said anything in class; that was Memphis’ area of expertise.
“Really…Explain.”
“Err, well. Lillian might have loved Bobby, and her parents might have wanted her to marry Jeb, but she didn’t do it because they expected her to.” I was on a roll, the words were just spilling out. “Lillian is a very independent person. She was part of all those parades and marches. It’s just not in her character to do anything she doesn’t want to.”
“Really? Well then why’d she do it?” Nick, his tone is defensive, what else is new?
“How am I suppose to know? I’m just saying that she didn’t do it for obligation. That’s just stupid.”
“None of our ideas are stupid…” Mr. Crawford might as well have not said anything, because no one listened.
“Stupid? I think it makes perfect sense!” He was standing now, naturally, I stood as well.
“It makes no sense. That’s like…that’s like saying Allie stayed with Noah because she felt guilty!” I was waving my arms, I don’t even know why I was so angry. I didn’t even care about the book.
“We’re not even talking about The Notebook!”
“Settle down…settle down…”
“I know! We’re talking about-”
“The Call Of The Wind has nothing to do with a stupid-”
“Romances are all connected! They all have to do with-”
“Love is complicated! You can’t describe them like-”
“THAT MAKES NO SENSE!” I slammed my hands onto the table and there was silence. I was panting, glaring at the idiot across from me who was returning the expression.
“…I’m glad we’re all excited. We’ll continue this next class. Cool down and write out your arguments. Dismissed.”
I gathered my books and left, followed closely by Jay.
“Hey, Hey.” He grabbed my arm and turned me around to face him after he chased me halfway to the door. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I-” I pulled my arm from his grip and shook my head, ignoring the hair that fell in my face. “Don’t know…”
“It’s fine. It’s cool. I mean, Mem-”
“Yeah, whatever.” I started walking again. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about him. He followed me and we went to our next class. Before we walked in, he stopped me, returning his hand to my arm.
“Hey, Eddie. I’m here.” He said it so seriously, so unlike the Jay I knew that I laughed, a shaky laugh. I could feel the tears burning behind my eyes again so I turned away and started reciting the periodic table. By the time I got to my seat I was at Radium and the tears were gone.
As I crossed the campus to the student parking I thought I glimpsed the silver Mercedes Memphis drove next to my own beat up pick-up truck. Blinking, it was gone, but it still sent an uncomfortable shiver down my spine. I got behind the wheel and drove away in a flurry of noise.
The ride was normal, I listened to the radio play the top 40s, and knew about four of the 20 songs I heard. My family doesn’t live anywhere near my school. A school for rich kids, kids like Jay and Memphis who’s parents sponsor field trips just for the hell of it.
At home, it was freezing. Mom forgot to turn off the air conditioner before she went to work and now the house was as cold as a grave. …Bad metaphor. I set my old messenger bag down on the floor of the hallway, dropping my keys on the table. Usually, I would head into the kitchen and make myself a snack but instead I walked upstairs, straight into my room and closed the door. Sighing, I yanked my uniform tie off and chucked it across the room.
***
“Eddie, wake up.” Groaning, I turned over and blinked open my eyes, staring into the familiar face of my mother. Her hand was on my forehead and a frown was obvious on her painted lips. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” I wanted to say but I just shrugged, sitting up, letting the blanket pool around my waist. She stared at me expectantly, the same expression Memphis wore when he asked if I saw stuff differently in each eye because of their different colorings. He was always fascinated that I had one green eye and one brown. He thought it was so interesting. Selfish bastard.
“What?” I finally asked.
“I got a phone call from Mrs. Gregory today.” I didn’t even know they knew each other, but I really shouldn’t have been surprised, I mean Memphis and I were pretty much inseparable.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. How are you feeling?” Now I got it. This was her crazy way of pretending to be a good mother, asking me veiled questions. I sighed, running a hand through my boring, brown hair.
“Like shit,” I murmured, giving into the urge and closed my eyes. I felt her arms come around me and I welcomed the embrace, leaning into her side and shuddering uncontrollably. She petted my hair, humming quietly.
She pulled back after a bit, staring me in the eye. Her hair was pulled up today, her cheeks, lips and eyes painted with her make up. She was beautiful, but not in the generic way. Her cheeks were too wide, her lips too thin, to be poster-board pretty, but I loved her.
Raising three boys by herself would normally make a woman crazy, running around all day, getting hardly any sleep. Most woman would let themselves go. Nancy Michaels wasn’t most woman though. She was a dictator in our home, acting as a mother half of the time and a slave-driver the other half. She loved all three of us, but she was strict and harsh. We were expected to do as she said, and we did. My older brother, Victor, had it the easiest. He was 21, and already out the house, but he stopped in from time to time. He was a part-time worker at Saint Brutus’ Mental Institution across town, and part-time college student at Arizona University, so he was around quite a bit. Teddy, my younger brother had it the hardest. Just turning fourteen next month, he was coddled by our mother a bit. He still had a curfew, which he broke frequently. He was rebellious, and drove our mother up the wall. Victor had taken to giving him lectures, gracefully stepping into the role of father that Teddy so obviously craved. Victor was Teddy’s idol. His hero. When Victor took up smoking, I found a package of fags hidden in one of Teddy’s drawers. When Victor decided he wanted to be a psychologist, Teddy took out a dozen books on the human mind from the library.
Victor was the heartbreaker, the mature one. He knew what he wanted in life, and he got it. He didn’t have time for relationships or parties. He was serious but loving. He loved all of us. Expected the best, and sought to give us the world. No wonder Teddy wanted to be him when he grew up.
Teddy was a bit wild. Rebellious, as I said. He wasn’t out of control but he certaintly wasn’t up to Victor’s level of maturity. He was still addicted to his cigs, even after Victor quit. He wore his hair long, annoyed Mom by playing his guitar loudly and stomped around the house in his black combat boots, scuffing up the floor. Teddy was a good kid, but he was a handful.
“How about some dinner?” My mother asked, pulling me up easily, after I nodded my consent. We walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where Teddy was leaning against the counter, shirtless, dressed only in a pair of black jeans, chattering on the phone. My mother clicked her teeth but said nothing, instead started to fix the table. I flicked Teddy’s ear, earning a glare for my efforts. We ate in silence. Teddy must have heard about Memphis since he didn’t make fun of me tonight. I was glad. After I finished my meatloaf, surprisingly, my favorite meal, I stood. Walking upstairs, I realized that I never asked to be excused, and for once, my mother didn’t call me back for a scolding. I flopped back down on my bed, pausing briefly to yank off my shoes, and reached up to turn off the light. Before unconsciousness claimed me, I could have sworn I saw Memphis’ switchblade on my dresser, but when I looked back over, I saw only my stacks and stacks of clothes I had yet to put away. I was so tired I completely forgot to right out my point of view for English Class.
***
I would first like to say that I’m not an emo. I’m not doing this because I’m an angst-filled teen, so before you label me that, I just wanted to get that out there. I never cut my wrists, never made myself throw up, god, I never even attempted sad poetry. I guess I should apologize firstly. This is kinda…sudden, isn’t it? Mom, Dad…it’s not your fault. It’s not actually anyone’s fault so don’t start pointing fingers, Anna. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. Boredom? Whatever. I’m doing it anyways. So yeah, I’m sorry. I’m happy, I’m just…going crazy. Ugh. It’s hard to explain so I’m not going to try. I’d say goodbye, but that’d be pointless because I hope to see you all later. Jenna, please, please, PLEASE don’t cry. You wouldn’t want to mess up your mascara, would you? Lol, kidding! Tony…don’t look at me like that, I know this isn’t the time to joke around, I’m just trying to lighten it up here. So yeah, I’ll see you all when you wake up. Love ya!
M.H.G
Introduction
I deleted my old world, if anyone cares, because that was totally E-M-O.
I've created a NEWWWW WORLDDDDD, ain't it exciting??
lol
So yeah, this world is where I shall post my short stories.
(i can never write more than a chapter for some odd reason)
Hopefully, this will keep me writing. hopefully.
not likely.
but maybe.
Anyways. so yeah. that's what this is about. :)
End
