Different Colors

Red//1

Red

2017- Carbondale, Illinois

And now I'm going to tell you about the start of my "burning in hell" life.

Here we go, Marcus. In you go..." I think to myself as I approach the hell that I have to face, no matter how much I hate the thought of it.

My first class of this day in September, one month after starting this horrid school year is P.E., which I don't have to directly participate in, but I have to make rounds in the gym on my wheelchair while the other boys play the co-ed games that the rest of my class participates in. I'm supposed to attempt to wear my P.E. shirt for a dress code grade, but I don't have to change shoes or pants because I'm just sitting in my wheelchair. It's definitely a challenge getting to the locker room from my regular locker to change for P.E. I have to go outside, roll my wheelchair down the parking lot, and then go into the lower level doors next to the locker room, as the other students can just go down the stairs to get there.

As I open the door to the locker room hallway, I can already smell the stench of dripping testosterone on the walls of the halls. I can smell the sweat from all the way here, it kind of sickens me, honestly, but there is something about it that makes me want more of it. It's as if I want to get closer to the smell, but am also repulsed by the smell all the same. I wish in a way that these guys would bring deodorant or maybe take their uniforms home over summer break, but I guess this smell is just all part of growing up here.

I go into the room to see maybe fifteen-twenty shirtless boys, all in athletic shorts, ready to play basketball. I never talk to them, have never gotten the courage to talk to them, and probably won't ever talk to them. I can tell I am a piece of wasted space to these boys, as they usually sigh or grunt as I enter into this testosterone-zone. They can tell that things are usually about to get awkward.

"...so then after we got him drunk out of his mind, then we went and..."

"Dude, that's crazy." One conversation I could hear was going, which I guess was about a party that Michael "Jake" Leeds was having last weekend at his Lake of Egypt house ten miles away from here. From what I could hear, it sounded like there was lots of drinking, lots of games, and some other crazy shit going down. I kind of want to be a part of this craziness, but my parents would literally kill me if they found out I took a sip of alcohol or a hit of weed.

"Hey Jakey, who are you taking to the beginning-of-the-year homecoming?" said a boy, whose name I don't know. He looked Hispanic to me, which I could tell by his six pack abs and tan skin. This boy, I believe, was a senior, who played football and basketball for our school. I have never spoken to this kid before, but I would like to eventually, maybe.

Jake Sods is probably the most popular guy in my school, or at least in my class. He is quarterback for the school's football team, pitcher for the baseball team, and plays on the Varsity basketball team. I think he has a girlfriend, but I'm not sure. I can tell he has been working out, by the looks of his abdomen. It appears he has a six pack or even an eight pack for that matter. He has blond hair and usually wears a letterman jacket with his last name on it that was distributed by the school.

The bell rang, and the guys went to the gym. I usually wait until they are out of the room to take my shirt off and change. I'm a very scrawny looking guy. I have no muscles anywhere, and my skin is as pale as it comes. I see why I can't get a girlfriend, I mean who would want someone like me? I have freckles, acne, and I look like a ten year old who hasn't hit puberty yet, all while only having one leg. I'm probably gonna be a virgin my entire life, but that's okay, at least to my parents. It kills me, because I have a sensation to want to be a part of the craziness these kids talk about. I want to get high, I want to get drunk, I want to have the chance to have sex with someone, but I can't, and it's unfair. It's unfair that I can't live my life the way I want to because I have one leg.

"Hey Jake, you coming?" said the Hispanic-looking athletic guy to Jake, as Jake was tying his tennis shoes to finish preparation for class. I was still waiting to take my shirt off like I usually do.

"Nah, I gotta piss real quick." He said, as the other boys walked out the door and into the gym to get in their spots for warmups. Jake then walks over to the toilet to use the restroom, and I don't believe he even realizes I'm still here.

In this moment, something changed in me. I don't know if it was something he did, or something I did, but I caught myself looking at him as he took a piss into the toilet. I have never looked at anyone this way before. It was as if, I couldn't take my eyes off him. His shirt was still off, and as he was pushing his urine out of him, which I know sounds graphic, but to me is fascinating, I can see his abs flexing. I pretend to look down, as he can't see me from where he is standing, but I can still see him. I don't want him to stop, because that means I will have to focus on my own sad body once again. I didn't know if my fascination with him was sexual attraction to him, or just inspiration to make my own body better, but it was one of the two, even if I was unsure of which it was.

This sounds crazy, but I wish I could see the front side, because I'm sure he has quite the package to deliver, while I am probably more like a mini corndog bought at a Golden Corral buffet. My fascination with male anatomy has never been so vast until now. I wanted to see more, know more, be able to experiment with more.

Suddenly he finishes taking his tinkle, and he walks over towards me to his locker. I immediately look down, take off my shirt, and leave it off for a second.

"Hi." I say, while I keep my shirt off, glaring at him as he is changing into his own shirt, which kind of saddens me in a way. I feel a weird feeling "down there". I grab my hoodie, set it on top of there, and leave it there. 

Shit, what is this

Good going, Marcus. Way to get your head in sinful places. But... maybe I want to get my head in sinful places. Nobody understands that I could probably have more fun at one of these parties Jake hosts than any of these people who attend. I would drink hard and even smoke some. I would be willing to have sex if I could find the right person and learn how to. I wouldn't even know what hole to put it in, like, until I was 14, I thought girls only had one hole down there, until I took sex ed in freshman year, and then I realized there's like I think 5 down in the "no-touch zone", according to what my parents call that area that most girls would just call their "Lady parts" or "private parts".

It turns out today is the day my counselor is coming to the school to talk with me about my depression I apparently have and to see if I need to get a psychiatrist to prescribe medicine to help me. I get called out of P.E. early to go talk to this woman. So, sadly, I cannot get another opportunity to see Jake in the locker room half-naked again today. There's always tomorrow at least.

I roll my wheelchair through the parking lot to the superintendent's office, where they have reserved us a room to talk with each other for about an hour. Heather is my counselor's name. I've been going to talk with her for about a year now, at my parents' request.

We get settled. "Hi, Marcus. How have you been doing today?" She asks me, as I look down at my hoodie which is still sitting over my crotch area that I forgot to put back on myself. I put the hoodie on real quick as she speaks to me, and the strange feeling has gone away. I've had that strange feeling down there before, like when I wake up in the mornings sometimes, and sometimes if I have a dream involving sexual stuff. It seems to me that it makes the part down there get larger, but I don't know much about male anatomy, and my parents never speak of it around me. They have also blocked almost all websites on my computer, so I have no access to scientific sexual stuff, but I'm sure this is very normal for males, if things are normal now.

"Heather, I need to tell you something..."