Weaved Lines [On Hold/Revising]

One

Name: Vincent Green

Gender:

Age:

GPA:

Reason for applying:

School name and home address:

The sheet was mocking him. Every time he started to fill it out, something got in the way. Mom needs work done. Okay, chores are finished, start again. Nope, Dad got the truck stuck. Of course, it's out there, in the mud, and the two of them waste four hours trying to get it out before Mom came out and fixed it instantly. Okay, back to work. Nada, cousins came over and wanted to talk to him.

What he started to fill out at seven am has yet to be finished--it's six pm now.

"Dinner time! Vincent, get down here!"

He groans, throwing back his head and blowing out air. "Coming, Mom!" Sighing, Vincent pushes back his chair. His bedroom, a sixteen foot by seventeen foot room--just had to be uneven--will wait for him to return, but his mind won't. Every good idea he's had, every great reason as to why they should allow him, slips away before he can do anything about it.

"You should accept me because I'm poor, black, living in a broken down town, and I'm gay so you'll be diverse," he mutters.

"What was that, honey?" his mom asks.

Vincent shakes his head, giving her a smile. "Nothing. I'm almost done with the sign up sheet, hopefully it'll all be filled out soon. I still can't believe they think I have a shot at this..."

She rolls her eyes, sitting down at the table with her plate of pasta. "Oh, you're a genius, quit being so modest. Honestly, Vincent. So, what will you be needing for the trip? I have a hundred set out for you, and you'll have your card...that's enough for two months, right? You don't need anymore money? If you do, just use the card, it'll be fine."

He nods, grabbing a plate and spooning out some of it and sitting down next to her. Vincent starts to eat, looking between his mother and father, who sit silently. Swallowing, he starts again. "I think I should be good with that. Thanks Mom. You too, Dad. This is all under the assumption I get in, though. There's lot of good people applying."

"In your school?" His father snorts, "Vincent, you beat all those in-bred idiots."

"They're not in-bred, Carl."

"Macy."

"Carl," his mother counters, raising her eyebrows. "Please don't start any fights here. I'm tired of all your nonsense. So, the camp. Do you need to get more clothes for it?"

"No, I should be good. I might need a new swimming suit. My clothes should be fine, though, really."

His Dad rolls his eyes, digging into his food. They all continue to eat for a bit, the only sounds in the house that of their chewing, the vents, and the cat pawing at the door. "Somebody want to let him in?" Vincent's Mom has a way of asking something that makes it more of a command, and without a thought Vincent stands to let it in.

A cool breeze blows in, spring starting to take over the winter weather. March is still a month away, yet he can already tell that it'll be warm soon. I have two more days to send this darn thing in. Maybe I should just wait, tell them I couldn't do it. Better than applying and never getting in, I guess. What else will I do this summer? Sit around? Maybe I'll get a job.

The cat rubs against his feet, purring as he slowly mkaes his way back to his seat.

Dinner finishes without anymore talk, the three of them setting their dishes into the dishwasher and getting back on with their lives. His mom and dad go into the living room, while Vincent goes back to his room to finish up that cursed application. He closes the door behind him softly, slightly annoyed as he sees that the paper is still there, unfinished, as if it's laughing at him.