This is chapter one of a Novella I'm writing for school. The title is pending. My instructor told me to just come up with something random until I think of a better title. If you are wondering though, "Straight As a Rainbow" is a phrase that someone used to describe one of my gay friends. I hope you enjoy this piece. It is a first draft.
Straight As a Rainbow, 1
It’s a mid autumn morning in the city. The air is thick and humid from the last night’s rain. Puddles on Main Street turn into waves when the buses and cars speed by. Pedestrians are in a hurry too. They dodge four lanes of traffic as the cross on green. Somewhere downtown, Sam and I are sitting in the recreation park. It’s empty today besides us. No one ever comes to the park during the week. It’s not the best place to hang out, but there isn’t anywhere else to go when we skip school.
We’re both seniors this year. Sam hates it more than anything and often skips class to go party with his college friends. It’s amazing that his grade point average is always better than mine even though I spend hours studying for tests. Today is the first time I’ve skipped school with him since we were sophomores. He brought a half pack of my favorite cigarettes just for the occasion.
Sam lights another one now even though he’s already had four. I watch the smoke curl upwards into the air and then dissipate. I am going to reek when I go home. It’s a good thing that my mom is a heavy smoker and that my dad is out of town. Sam takes an extra long drag.
“You want another one, Layla?”
I shake my head, but he hands me a cigarette anyway. I set it in my lap.
We’ve been sitting here for a long time. The grass is still damp from the rain and my loose fitting pants are becoming wet. Sam wouldn’t want to move though. The closest bench is a good sixty yards away. I shift my weight onto my right leg so that I can face him. He looks worse than a car crash. His dark, wavy hair is a mess and he’s wearing the same clothes from two days ago. The knees of his bleach-spotted jeans have large tears across them and his leather belt is missing several studs. His shirt is faded to the point that I can’t read the band name printed on the front, nor can I make out the design. He didn’t bother to shave today either. I know that he’s thinking about something because of the vacant expression in his eyes.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask amiably.
He looks at me sideways and then down at his cigarette which is almost gone – he hadn’t taken a hit at all in the past two or three minutes.
“Shit. That was my last one.”
He puts it out and flicks the filter across the grass, sighing heavily as he does. Sam’s been smoking since I met him in eighth grade. Back then he only smoked five or six a week. Now he smokes twice that amount every day. I know that he’ll be cranky once the nicotine wears off. I wave the cigarette he’d given me earlier in front of his face.
“You want to share it with me?”
He gives a wide smile as an answer, but then a frown when he can’t find the lighter. He searches through the grass for it without any luck.
“Damnit! Where’d it go?” He shouts in frustration.
“Is it in your pocket?”
He says no, although he starts fishing around in his pockets anyway. We’d been through this same scenario multiple times, yet he still hadn’t learned to check there first. I snicker when he suddenly stops fishing.
“What were you thinking about?” I ask again as we pass the cigarette back and forth.
“Nothing, really. I was just spacing out.”
I shrug at this and pull my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. Strands of brunette hair fall over my eyes and face. I shake my head to move them, but more pieces shift forward instead. Sam tells me that I look like Cousin It from the Adams Family. I respond by blowing a stream of smoke in his face. We’ve been at the park for four hours now. The high sun is beating down on us unrelentingly. Sam rolls over on his stomach.
“Why does it have to be so freaking hot?” he groans.
I wave my arms vigorously in a mock attempt to cool him off. He groans louder.
“I’m about to die, Layla. You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“It’ll cost you a buck.” I say with an evil grin.
He stands up to stretch.
“No thanks,” he says, “I’m good.”
“Thought so,” I say smugly, “Are you ready to go home now?”
He looked really tired. We live on the same road; Water Maple. It’s about a thirty minute walk from here. We would probably stop at the cyber café though so that he can check his email and maybe play some games. He stretches some more before answering.
“Well, Ben invited me over to his house today and I haven’t seen him in awhile. Do you mind walking home by yourself?”
I’m not surprised by what he says. He almost never walks home with me anymore.
“Nah it’s alright. I have some errands I need to run anyways.”
(( New Content Starts Here ))
After stopping at the perfume shop at the corner of Cherrystone and Walnut I continue the lonesome walk to my house. I smell like a French whore because of all the perfume. I need to cover up the scent of the smoke though. My mom never notices, nor does she suspect, but I always like to take extra precautions regardless of her ignorance. I think on Sam briefly as I walk by the cyber café. He was probably sitting in Ben’s basement smoking and playing video games. I flip open my phone, deciding to send him a text message. I push the number buttons; four, five, six, eight, three, nine, six, eight. The message reads “I love you.” It’s too short. I continue to punch in letters to add “Have fun at Ben’s”.
I turn onto Water Maple Road. My house is at the end of the lane. I pass a few houses and then stop in front of Gwen’s. I need to ask her about the pre-cal test that I’d missed today. School has been out for an hour so she should be home. I walk across the lawn to the front door of the large, two story house. It’s a pretty, white house with colonial style woodwork and azalea bushes around the front base. There’s also a rose garden in the back that her mom planted. Her parents had to do years of work on the house because it was such a wreck when they bought it. They say that it still isn’t finished.
Normally I would knock but the door isn’t latched today. I open it and walk in. The lights in the foyer are off so I head towards the kitchen. I only take one step inside the room before I collide with someone and fall backwards onto the tiled floor. I land on my back with the other person on top of me. I can hear Gwen laughing in between the throbbing of my head.
“Hey, Layla.”
She flashes me a smile before pushing off the ground with her arms. Then she looks at me sprawled on the floor and laughs again. With the help of her hand I pull myself up. We brush the lint and dirt specks off our shirts. She looks nice today. Her pale blonde hair is pulled up in a ponytail and she’s wearing a pink tank top that goes well with her dark jeans. She looks up for a second and notices me staring at her.
“Gah, Layla, stop checking me out!” She cries jokingly as she crosses her arms.
I raise mine in defeat.
“Guess you caught me, huh?”
“Yup,” she declares triumphantly, “Where’s Sam? I thought you guys were skipping school together?”
“We were, but then he had to go to Ben’s.”
Her face scrunches up a bit before she replies, “Ben is out of town. He won’t be back until Friday.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I though you knew. His grandma is in the hospital,” her voice becomes soft, “She probably won’t make it.”
I’m not sure what to say so I just give a flat “oh”. Gwen sighs. I assume that it’s because of Ben. He and his grandma were close. I’m surprised when she says something about Sam instead.
“I bet Sam’s went to James’ house. There’s supposed to be a big party tonight.”
James is Sam’s main drinking buddy. He throws parties every week. Sam never misses them.
“Great,” I say sarcastically, “He’s off getting drunk.”
“Oh my God, Layla, I totally think we should go.”
“What?” That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.
“Come on!” she exclaims, “You never go.”
“For obvious reasons. I’ve only seen Sam once while he was drunk. It wasn’t very pretty.”
“Well maybe he’ll decide to stay sober tonight if you’re there.”
I knit my eyebrows together and ask, “Why would he?”
“Cause you’re his best friend.”
“So?”
“So let’s go and see what happens!”
She grabs my hand and pulls me up the stairs. Once we’re in her room she immediately starts throwing clothes at me. Before I know it I have ten outfits in my arms.
When I can’t hold any more I shout, “Gwen! You know I can’t wear any of this. You’re a half a foot taller than me!”
“Don’t worry. These clothes run small.”
She’s grinning wickedly and my stomach beings to churn. I know she has a plan.
