One-Shots

Curiosity Killed the Cat

Curiosity Killed the Cat
(or something like that)

NOTICE: This is over a year old - as of November 2012 - and my writing style has changed quite a significant amount since then so the other works in this collection are vastly different and certainly better.

        I first met Cole Travis when I was in fifth grade and he was an incredibly smart ten year old in the grade below me. We soon became inseparable and I knew instantly that things between us would never change. He was my best friend and I was his. I have no idea how someone so spectacular could ever give a damn about me, but he did anyway and I knew I'd never be able to repay him for it.

        As we got older, we learned new things about each other, the world, and all the little things in between.

         I learned that he was practically a genius compared to me.

         I learned his favorite color was blue.

        I told him mine was, even though I actually like the color green.

        I learned his father would get drunk on occasions.

         I also learned he'd get a new bruise each time this happened.

        Yet, I wasn't allowed to do anything, tell anyone, or mention it, but I had promised him when I was old enough, we'd move away and he'd never have to see him again.

         He learned that I was quiet, and usually kept to myself unless he was around.

        I learned that his mother had left his dad for a big hulky black guy, so his father didn't like blacks. If it was possible, I hated him even more then because even when I was young I didn't like racism, sexism, homophobia, or anything else of the sort. He was a worthless pig who didn't deserve someone like Cole as a son.

         I learned that Cole had a mild hate for cats, but a burning passion for dogs.

         I told him how much I loved dogs too, even though I really didn't.

        He told me about how he wanted to be an engineer, because he was really good at math and science. I pretended I knew what an engineer was.

         I told him I had no idea what I wanted to do, but that I didn't really care as long as I got to leave the state. I didn't like it here, and I knew I never would.

         I learned that he was a pretty good fighter, certainly better than me.

        We both learned that the world wasn't as great as people made it out to be and that sometimes, bad things happen to good people when our friend Tyler Grayson was killed in a car wreck.

        We learned that we were both terrific at basketball, but when I broke my leg in sixth grade, I had to quit. Cole quit along with me.

        We learned that some people thought I was weird because I hung out with a kid a grade below me, but we also learned that I didn't really care what they thought – Cole was my best friend.

        We learned that Sally Morrison had a thing for girls at the end of seventh grade when she was caught kissing her best friend Ashley at my thirteenth birthday party. We cheered them on.

        Then when we were in middle school, I finally grew the metaphorical balls I needed to tell my best friend that I fancied guys just like Sally Morrison fancied girls.

        “I think I like that boy over there,” fourteen year old me had said sheepishly. I was confessing my sexuality to Cole without even thinking too hard about it, and had been pointing my index finger at a dark haired boy and freckles that made me want to jump him despite not having any idea about how any of that really worked. He was two or three years older than me, but I didn't care. He was good looking and that's all I had time to care about. 

         “He's funny,” Cole had said. “Cool guy.”