Chapter One
In Between Alive and Dead
I’ve always hated labelling people, but if I had to give myself a descriptive term to classify me, the most appropriate would probably be nerd.
When I say nerd I don’t mean it in the overly cliché, geek glasses, bad hair-do, no skills in color matching clothing, Revenge of the Nerds kind of nerd. Let’s all agree that Revenge of the Nerds did absolutely nothing good for the nerd community and is ninety minutes of my life I’ll never get back.
By saying nerd, my point of reference is John Green, which is like my general point of reference (him and Hank that is) and by that I mean that I’m too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness, that I’d rather be intelligent than be stupid, that I’d rather be thoughtful than be vapid, that I believe that there are things that matter more than the arrest record of Lindsay Lohan.
Safe to say I’m a nerdfighter (by that I don’t mean I fight nerds, I mean I’m made of awesome) which can be slightly prideful if you think about it, but I don’t hear anybody complaining.
Now, while I’m defining myself, I’d probably also need to mention that I’m slightly OCD (and that is putting it mildly). It’s little things sometimes, like being unable to leave my room if all my drawers aren’t closed correctly, or if my pillows are meticulously arranged on my bed, or if any of my frames are crooked. And sometimes it’s really stupid stuff, like when I take a glass, I do it with both of my hands or I switch them frequently because I need both of my hands to be equally cold or equally warm.
One could have thought that, that whole neat freakness would have rejoiced my mother, but oh sweet bonions on a cracker, no. She about enjoys it as much as when I tell her I’m not a Republican. At least my Republican parents aren’t die hard gun wielding low tolerating Texans like some of our neighbours are.
I don’t know why but when you say Texans, people often put their judgemental hat on. I mean, seriously, Texas is really not that bad. So what if people start saying we gave them George W. Bush? We only had him for governor and he might have grown up in Texas but the clown’s from New Haven, Connecticut. We might have been stupid enough to take him as our governor but the rest of the United States choose him from president so we’re not the only fools in our great country. And we totally gave y’all Matt Bomer, Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Jim Parsons, Patrick Swayze, Summer Glau, Janis Joplin, Chace Crawford, Michelle Rodriguez… the list goes on and you’re welcome.
And I guess the fact that I’m not a football fanatic doesn’t exactly work in my favour either to fall in the good grace of my parents.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against football. Technically speaking though, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My father used to play in the football team in High School, so that means I have to care about it. But then again, football players haven’t always been a good thing for this family (actually it might have been a good thing for this family depending on how you see it), and technically they’re the reason why I’ve never had a boyfriend. The thing is, my mother was a cheerleader, (when I really think about it, what a disappointment must I be) and my parents were High School sweethearts. And then my mother got knocked up during their first month of college. She never got a degree.
Fast forward seventeen years later, the result of this fruitful mistake, my older sister London, also got knocked up by her football playing high school sweetheart (it’s like the women in this family don’t understand the basic concept of contraception). With that in mind, it’s easy to understand where my parents stand now on the whole me-dating-anyone thing. And the fact that I try to stay as far away from fertile football players as I can.
If it wasn’t for the fact that I basically grew up with my best friend Kurtis and he’s like a brother to me, they probably wouldn’t even let me hang out with boys. Well, that might be slightly far fetched. I think in the grand scheme of things, my parents and their bestfriends always hoped that Kurtis and I and my sister and Kurtis’ brother Avery would all end up together. It kind of went downhill though when my sister got knocked up and Avery moved to New York. And also because Kurtis and I aren’t in love with each other. He used to have a thing for my sister, before she got a bun in the oven. Kurtis’ type of girls is generally older than him, go figure.
Anyway, to deal with the craziness, I run. Running helps to clear my head and put things into perspective. If I’m running, it seems easier to sort things out, to make sense of my discombobulated thoughts. And it makes me forget that I didn’t close the door of my closet.
Now there’s a point to me rambling about all of this. If I have to label myself, I’m a nerdfighter, mind you, a slightly OCD one with a mild obsession with running and keeping up a tight schedule and things at their designated places. But I do need the running.
But right now, I can’t run. Because I’ve hurt myself. Because my stupid sister is staying at our place and her stupid kid let one of his rolling toys in the stairs and I slipped on it, because it wasn’t where it was supposed to be, and my right foot sort of twisted at the metatarsus almost like it folded in the middle and now I have a huge bruise and every time I put weight on it, it hurts and there’s nothing to do but wait for it to heal.
So, I hate my sister and my nephew and I hate people in general for not following the simple social convention of not putting rolling objects in the stairs. And I’m basically miserable because it’s taking me forever to get to my stupid locker and it took me forever to get to the bus stop, and I hate this and I’ve transformed into some kind of giant limping squid of anger and I’m about to throw myself on the ground and have spasms.
“Looking good Franklin,” someone calls behind me and I growl under my breath. Kurtis quickly reaches me, a big grin on his face.
Sometimes I don’t understand how he endures me. “Don’t antagonize me, or I will punch you in the boob.”
“I don’t have boobs,” he points out, still smiling, “but I’ll still try to take your threat in consideration.”
I shake my head. It’s like he’s fishing for a punch in the boobs. I really shouldn’t be mean with him though. Kurtis is my best friend, or well, my only friend. I’m not exactly good with people. I think it’s the whole I-have-absolutely-no-social-skills that works against me. Sure, I can talk with people, I’m in the debate team and I’m in the chess team and the math club and also work in the school’s journal. So I’m not entirely anti social. It’s more that I completely lack social skills and I’m pretty sure everyone gets uncomfortable when they talk with me.
“So, how’s the foot?” Kurtis asks while I limp pathetically towards my locker.
“Oh, it’s just peachy. I’m planning on running a marathon and then maybe stand on one leg for the rest of the day after that.”
“You’re losing your touch Franklin, usually your comebacks are wittier,” Kurt teases and gives a little shove to my shoulder with his own.
I stick my tongue out at him because I’m a five year old at heart. “Eat me. Ned has been crying all night long so on top of being in pain because of him, I can’t get my ten hours of sleep.”
Ned, or Edward is my three years old nephew’s name. And yes, my sister is the kind of sad soul who named her son after the sad excuse of a vampire in Twilight. I don’t like that kid. Or maybe I just don’t like kids in general. I have decided not to take a position on that issue just yet. Maybe it’s my teenage cynicism that stops me from being able to love children. Maybe when my mother genes kick in and I don’t feel my heart beat in my foot, I’ll find Ned cuter.
“It’s like you want me to remind you, you’re like a little kid.”
“I’m not a little kid. I’m a teenager. Ned’s a little kid.”
“You’re probably as tall as Ned.”
I glared at him. “Shut up. I’m five foot three.”
Kurtis is very amused now. “You’d be five foot three if you stayed a few months outside of the Earth’s atmosphere and gravity wouldn’t have any effect on your spine. But here, on Earth, you’re five one. And you need ten hours of sleep. And you stick your tongue out when you have nothing witty to say. Obviously, you’re a little kid. A prepubescent at the most.”
“Why thank you, Colonel McDoucheBag.” I could argue. I usually don’t though. I usually let Kurtis destroy all my hopes and dreams of ever not feeling like a midget. I think it’s good for my ego.
“You’re welcome. Now hurry up, we’ll be late.” He laughs when he says this because he obviously sees my glaring. I think my inability to walk at a faster pace than a stinking snail is sort of obvious.
When I finally reach my locker, I drop the few books I won’t need till the afternoon and keep everything I’ll need for the morning because there’s no way I’m walking all the way back here. It would be plans to get a tardy if I did.
“Seriously, can’t you speed up the pace, usually I’m the one dragging my feet behind you, not the other way around.”
“Hey, if you want to speed up the process and give me a piggy back ride, be my guess.” I take two slow steps and then frown at him, confused. “And why are you in such a hurry, anyway?”
“Mr Devon is sick,” he explains slowing down so I can keep up with his pace.
“Yes, and?”
Kurtis smiles at me, showing me all of his pearly white teeth. “And Miss Davidson is going to be the substitute.”
“Yes, and?” I press.
He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “And I think she’s got a thing for me.”
I sort of throw up in my mouth when he says that. Ew. Just ew. “Kurtis, she’s probably forty years old, and she’s our freaking teacher.”
“Yes, and?”
“You’re gross.”
He smirks, enjoying my disgusted face. “You’re a midget.”
“If you start some kind of teacher student thing,” I tell him, pointing at him, “I swear to god, I’ll be the one going to the cops with this and I’ll happily share with them all the gory details of your deviancy.”
“Cougars are a thing,” Kurtis answers, completely unaffected.
“Pedophilia is too.”
“It’s ephebophilia actually. Get your facts straight, Smurfette,” he chuckles, flicking the tip of my nose softly.
I swat his hand away and rub my nose, glaring at him. “I’m not even going to give you the satisfaction of an answer.”
He grins broadly. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome perv.”
I love Kurtis, even if he’s a sexual deviant (I might be pushing it a little). When I say love though, I don’t mean love him, I mean I love him like I’d love my brother. Kurtis is like a brother to me and I’m like a sister to him. This is something we have agreed on in the course of our never ending friendship. No one is falling in love with the other here. If we even slightly feel like we’re developing feelings for the other, we have to say it. I know each one of his deepest and darkest secrets, and he knows mine. So, sharing our feelings wouldn’t be that embarrassing. And it’s for the sake of our friendship. So far things have been good though. I don’t think I could ever fall in love with Kurtis, even if social conventions usually dictates that you should get married with your best friend. He feels too much like a brother to me. We’ve had our diapers changed side by side. I’m pretty sure at one point our parents made us bathe together—alas, we were both too young to remember but I’m pretty sure there are pictures. Basically, this boy is more like my twin then the future father of my spawn.
As we make our way to homeroom, I try to pick up my pace to not be late, so that means I stare at me feet very intently to make sure nothing happens to the injured one. So when I finally look up to get my bearings, I see them.
Every school is divided into social groups (jocks, preppy, nerds, choirs kids etc.) but them, they’re a group of their own. They kind of fit in everything and nothing at the same time. In my school, if you want to be cool, you need to be acknowledged by them. If I had to pick a group to hang out with it would probably be them. They’re like the underground cool kids, the cool kids people want to be. They’re the cool kids that Gotham deserves, but not the ones they need right now. So, we’ll hunt them, because they can take it. Because they’re not our heroes. They’re our silent guardians. Our watchful protectors. Our Dark Knights.
Complete mental fart aside, this group of cool kids is formed by four people—Lance Copperfield, April Garcia, Delilah Yates and Austin von Thalberg.
Lance is the kind of guy that when he smiles at you, you melt. It doesn’t matter if you have ovaries or testicles. When Lance Copperfield smiles at you, really smiles at you, you do whatever he wants you to do. (Of course, if he smiles at your and you’re a girl, you can bet your girly ass that he’s doing it because he wants something from you, not because of your womanly attributes and the goodness of his heart, since Lance Copperfield is queer as a three dollar bill.) He actually managed to have a bathroom break during one of Mrs Paulson’s classes which is like impossible. One time, this girl started her period during one of her classes and she just told the girl that she should have been more forthcoming and that she’d have to wait like everyone else. And then Lance Copperfield smiled at her once and he managed to go on a pee break for no good reason.
I think part of it though is because of the whole him being gay thing. People walk on eggshells around him sometimes because some people are obviously homophobic and are trying to hide it so they overcompensate. Either way, the point of this is, Lance Copperfield can get you a bathroom break in any classes he wants.
But he’s also head of every committee that counts and that gives him a lot of power in this school.
Then there’s April Garcia. Part of April Garcia’s charm is her twin brother, quarterback of our High School football team, Jesse Garcia. The Garcia twins are also the living proof that all stereotypes about football players and cheerleaders are not true. From what I’ve observed, April is one of the sweetest, humblest girls I know. And I’m lab partner with Jesse, and the boy’s got a head on his shoulder. He’s probably going to study to be a biochemist, that’s how smart he is.
Then there’s Delilah Yates. Delilah is the marginal girl at our school. She’s pierced is all sorts of weird places, she has stretches, she changes her hair color monthly, and she often dresses up like a naughty 1950 housewife. She’s also in the Senior Theatre Productions and any play she’s been in has been a triumph.
And finally there’s Austin von Thalberg. Austin is a bit of an oddity. He’s a very social person, and always smiling. He’s probably going to turn into the old man that starts talking with you on the bus. But even with all his social skills, he doesn’t seem to have many more friends. Of course, he isn’t a loner—obviously he has these three friends. But it’s not like he gets out of his way to be popular and get noticed. But people still notice him because he super sweet and he’s good looking. Like adorably good looking. Like, you want to pinch his cheeks and kiss him. Most girls do. Problem is, as far as I know, he’s only ever had one girlfriend and that was Delilah, freshman year. And then, he never had one again. It’s like he doesn’t even notice girls flirting around him. I think he’s gay.
He is obviously best friend with like the most flamboyant gay guy in our school, and don’t gay people tend to stick together? Also, he’s in the wrestling team. Now if that doesn’t scream “I just want to be tackle to the ground by another sweaty male” I don’t know what does.
Either way, these are the Fantastic Four as I like to call them. They have a lot of friends outside of their little group, but those four are inseparable. Of course, now and then, they will branch out and accept others in their little social gatherings, for instance April’s brother, but most of the time, they stick together. So, a lot like the Fantastic Four basically, like when they accepted Spider-man with them. Now for this story line to hold, then their Human Torch, aka Lance would need to die, but that’s beside the point.
Three of the Fantastic Fours walk away from the door, but April is in the same first class as me, so she holds the door open for me and Kurtis when we reach the room.
She smiles at us and Kurtis smiles back but I just keep my eyes on my feet. It’s not because I know she’s part of the cool crowd and that I should be nice to, that I’ll magically acquire social skills.
I have no socials skills. None what-so-ever. The fact that my best friend is also my only friend is proof enough. Also, the fact that the most interaction I have with other human beings is through my computer tends to prove that I don’t play well with real people. On the internet, I’m freaking hilarious. But in real life, I’m awkward and blushing and weird. Real people just isn’t my thing. I prefer looking at videos of John and Hank instead of exchanging actual words with my pairs. I feel like I’m accomplishing more then.
This is the bane of my life. I can sing the periodic table song, but I can’t for the life of me start a conversation with someone I’m… who am I kidding, I can’t start a conversation with anyone aside from my family members and Kurtis.
If I’m asked a question, I’ll answer it, but I can’t go up to someone and say hi. And I can’t look at people directly in the eyes because that’s often an opening for the whole exchanging smiles thing. And this can only naturally evolve to actually making small talk with that person, and I don’t do small talk. I can talk in length about the reasons why I wouldn’t have wanted to be Schrödinger’s cat, but I can’t start talking about the weather to keep up a conversation.
But hey, I’m just socially awkward; at least I’m not both alive and dead.