All American Boys

4. Cyrillian Blue

All American Boys

Chapter 4: Cyrillian Blue

I almost approached him. Almost.

If not for the fact that he yelled to his teammates down the hallway to wait for him, I would've gone up to him and said hi. For a brief moment he seemed vulnerable, but he soon took off and rejoined his friends, reverting back to the loud and annoying jock that everyone seemed to know him as.

I usually tried to ignore others and not get in their way. But somehow, his vulnerability drove something within me. Something that told me I needed to take action.

I groaned as I picked up my books. Well, if I had a typewriter and a nice armchair I could sit for hours tearing him down in a scathing article. I'd write down a list of all the things that was wrong with him and nail it to his locker door.

Well, to start things off, he wasn't even that good at football. How he was the 'star' quarterback was beyond me. Heck, if I was the coach I probably would've just let him be the benchwarmer. Not very bright, not very good at sports, I wondered how he even got the place. He was the antithesis of a star overachiever. But hey, appearances are everything right?

It was probably because of his dad. Oh, high and mighty Richard Anderson, business magnate and the perfect American father. Always hosting parties and barbeques at his large suburban house. Rebecca Anderson, the perfect wife in her pretty sun dresses, with a smile so sweet you could get diabetes. The perfect American family, Uncle Sam's beloved darlings.

I stopped myself from taking shots at the family too hard, because, well- Hayden was one of them after all. Besides, I don't really have anything special against their family. Well, I disliked them as much as I disliked other people I guess. And Rebecca had always seemed nice. I remember her smiling at me the last time I was at church– not one of those broad saccharine grins – but a slight curl of her cerise lips with a hint of sadness in her hazel eyes. That, at least felt genuine to me.

The last time I went to church. . . Well, let's say I didn't really like to think about what went down. It wasn't very pleasant.

They smeared her name after she died. Calling her all sorts of vile things. A liar, a cheat, a jealous opportunist who just wanted to claw her way through the established respectable order just to get what she wanted. Someone who was willing to do whatever it takes, to stoop however low in order to gain an edge. They called her worse names, but I couldn't even bring myself to recall them. They didn't deserve any place near my sister's memory.

Things aren't very pleasant in this pleasant little town. But Bethlehem being Bethlehem, people will still shake your hand while they spit in your face.

I didn't let my thoughts run back to those painful times. Instead, I decided to continue my long list of bad things about Isaac Anderson.

He was fake, obviously. Just like the rest of them. Other than faking it on the field, he was probably faking that obnoxious act as well. But it wasn't that hard when you're surrounded by spineless sycophants. I just didn't like him. From the smug sneers on his lips when he was with his friends to the glare he gave me that morning. They just wasn't anything likeable about him. But most importantly, I couldn't stand hypocrites. He was obviously pretending to be something he wasn't. When all his friends were away and he was alone, he just looked pathetic and sad. I didn't know whether to feel sorry or laugh at him, but I kept going back and forth between the two.

***

"So," Emily said. "You're telling me that Hayden Anderson actually paid you to babysit his brother?"