I Believe in God
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Waking up on Monday morning in the October of 2005 was pure hell for me. My alarm clock immediately went to a radio station playing a song by the Pussycat Dolls that I hated. I stumbled out of bed and tried to find where I put the alarm clock. I felt a little different and my life hadn’t really changed, had it? What did I expect, waking up energetic and ready to completely change my life at 5:30 in the morning on Monday? No, that’s not me. I was still the first one up and I quickly dressed myself in the stupid school uniform which was polo shirts (white or purple) and pants or skirts/shorts (khaki, navy blue…no shorter than 4 inches above the knee.) How many times had the last rule been broken? I put on a purple shirt and khaki bottoms. Then combat boots, too much large jewelry and nothing in pink or yellow, and alas fixing up my face now home of two new zits. Great. I found comfort in my nose ring and double-pierced ears, the second piercing and the nose done against my parent’s wishes by my buddy Craig. The only thing left was coffee.
“Good morning, Stevee,” Mother greeted, stumbling out of her bedroom like a zombie. She did work with four year olds at a daycare but she did get more sleep than me. High school was killing me. I had never seen so much homework freshman year. “You catching the bus?”
I rolled my eyes. I’d stopped riding the bus last year since I had a senior friend, which was about the coolest thing. Jesse Arthur was actually my cousin and first guy friend. He had a car and I normally caught a ride.
“No, I’m driving,” I replied sarcastically. Wishing I could, of course. I owned a car and had no license. I hardly knew anyone who didn’t own a pick-up truck or SUV, yet my car was a black Lexus. And everyone thinks I’m Gothic and I know only one person at Liberty who is.
“Can you do that?” Mother asked curiously, pouring some coffee for herself. I heard two door open. Simon and Sammy were up.
“I could,” I said thoughtfully. “I could probably get away with it. Leslie Charleston could drive at age thirteen. I doubt the cops care unless you drive a four-wheeler into a fence.”
I was staring at Simon who looked away, turning red. Last summer at maw-maw and paw-paw’s house I rode on the back of the four-wheeler with Simon and cousin, KJ. Simon was driving. KJ and I jumped off and Simon went straight through the fence into the yard of the neighbors in the back. One of my proudest moments as I had nothing to do with it. Of course, four days later I let Craig pierce my nose…
“Really?” said Mother, trying her best to sound interested.
“I went to the homecoming game,” I announced. I smirked at her shocked expression and sipped the hot coffee in my hand. Really, I still hated sports. My opinion was that it was best for a nap if everyone would shut up.
“Yeah,” I went on since no one said anything and Sam gave me a meaningful look. “I took Sam there ‘cause she wanted to go. We got kicked out because I was throwing skittles at the football players…on our team.”
Our football team sucked and it was true. Our best team was the girl’s basketball team, who were right under “CHEERLEADERS.”
“Stevee,” Mother said with exasperation. Finally, I frowned. I was sick and tired of hearing that disappointment. I grabbed my book bag and headed out to my Lexus in the garage. I was going to test my theory and see if I got a ticket for driving without a license. It would be the first time I drove my car. I slid into the seats cold from the freezing night. I slid on my jacket from a store in the mall called Hot Topic. I pulled out of the driveway and it took almost three to five minute to drive to Max and Hallie’s house. I was greeted by many, many cats. They had about thirty or so. Max and Hallie ran out and Mrs. LaBlanc waved to me before walking back into their small house. Max was up with me and somehow Hallie was small enough to share a seat with her though it was a bit crowded.
“Hello, Stephan,” Max said, patting me on the head like a dog. She called me the boy form of my name sometimes, but I called her Maxamillian and she usually shut up.
“Ha ha,” I said starting the car and driving off. I wondered vaguely if I should tell them about my metamorphosis, and decided against it. It was something I needed to keep between me and God for a while. I felt guilty a bit because Max normally shared all of her deepest darkest secrets with me. She tells me I’m a good listener and I try the best I can to be helpful. I can usually help her. However, I’m the only one who knows she’s suicidal and she had yet to get over it. Trying everything was no help. Later that morning I prayed that if I couldn’t help her that God would. She worried me sometimes, but she was the person I was closest to at this point. Hallie and I shared more in common, but I was at ease talking to her younger twin. We both had serious issues to work through. She’d tell me she hated this friend of hers Gibbs who had a girlfriend and I knew she really liked him, so I’d call him Mr. Antagonist. In return, I’d rant on about my family. We’d talk about her suicidal phase and then about my disturbing case of writer’s block. No matter how big the problem, we refused to judge each other and ignore the problem.
We passed by three cop cars on the way to school. They ate like pigs looking for people on the MOST WANTED list and drunk drivers. If you were neither you could go. I was thankful as I had been paranoid about getting caught the entire drive to Liberty. As usual, we waited outside until the bell rang. We met up with Craig and Evan and the others. They’d talk about the preps and Hallie and I watched them. The cheerleaders: Mariah, Adrian, Brala, Grayson, Katie, and Roxy. After a while, I joined Max sitting on the cement ground. We changed the subject to last night’s episode of Charmed and new websites.
When the bell rang I said good-bye to Max and Hallie and headed to the gym for first hour PE. The gym was placed in the very back of the school grounds which was a long walk. Everyone was five minutes late, Coach McPherson was always fifteen minutes late. We dressed out in our gym uniforms to play volleyball. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach and I stumbled into positioned. I was bad a sports, I was worse in volleyball. I stood there, watching the game as Roxy always had to have the ball and if we lost the point it was my fault. Sometimes I’d just stare into space until the ball hit the ground or Mercedes made it hit one of the lights or if it hit me in the head.
“Play the darn game, Angel!” screamed Mariah Thompson.
I normally didn’t scream, but the preps were a special case.
“It is seven in the morning, I woke up at 5:30, and I’m at school watching this stupid game. I-feel-dead!” I shouted.
Coach let me sit out the rest of the game to get a hold of my anger management issues. I glared at them for a while and then hoped I could run head first into a brick wall. Okay, when had I become as prejudice as everyone else? I, like my friends, hated ALL of the preps. Okay, I guess I’d never like their language, clothing, or attitude, but I had no reason to hate them. Except maybe Mariah, Roxy, Katie, and Brala….Thinking did this to me. Thinking drove me crazy. But it always helped me prove a point. And it was somewhere to start on my new journey. I didn’t want to be that person. Maybe God was helping me after all. But how was I supposed to tell my friends of my new point of view?
Worrying about other’s thoughts was another curse that plagued teenagers.
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