Young Writers Society

From the time the birds sang their first gleeful note, it became evident that this day would be out of the ordinary. There was something about how the shadows of the trees danced about across the beige carpet on the bedroom floor. The alarm clock was missing its annoying resonance and the smell of crispy bacon swept through the house like a wave. Mrs. Simmons hadn’t cooked in years.

Slightly bewildered, the lump in the covers convulsed as Colby Simmons sat up, rubbed his eyes, and planted his bare feet into the soft plush of the carpet. He walked over and opened the blinds to see the view of two wondrous blue jays singing merrily on the branch outside the second floor window. With a sharp, distinctive peck on the glass, he eliminated that unwelcome view.

Still a bit groggy from the night’s slumber – or lack of – he stumbled into the bathroom and managed to climb into the shower stall to receive his daily awakening. After a small lapse of time, his bedroom door opened with a creak as he emerged in his typical attire: loose fitting jeans, some dark colored t-shirt, and black boots.

It is said that the exterior appearance can be a window to a man’s own soul, and, for Colby Simmons, it was. Even in his younger years, he never fit in with the crowd. It wasn’t until high school that his anti-conformity turned his heart black; however, he’d have it no other way.

With a loud clump, he rushed down the stairs and swiped his jacket up and slung it over his shoulder. Simultaneously, the high pitched beep from the bus horn could be heard from through the open kitchen window as he reached the bottom of the staircase.

Clad in a maroon scrub set with a matching nurse’s ID badge, Veronica Simmons was the average, beautiful American woman. She had made a good life for herself and hoped that her child would do the same. From the looks of it, this would never happen, but that never stopped her from encouraging him. With a sincere smile and a tone of kindness, she uttered, “Have a good day, darling.”

“Yeah, um, you too, Mom,” he said as he brushed past her to get to the door. His life had never been a good one, and he didn’t know how but the fault rested solely on her shoulders. He snatched up a slice of bacon and allowed the door to slam behind him.

The useless cycle that the state called education was beginning again. As usual, the alarm clock went off at a half past six, Colby showered, dressed himself, and got on the bus by seven o’clock sharp. At seven o’clock, his horrors began and would continue until four that afternoon.

The yellow doors swung outward and he climbed aboard his own personal carriage of doom. The yellow school-bus, his one way ticket to the flaming gates of hell. As soon as he climbed aboard, the same faces were gawking at him as they always did. After all, society is apparently allergic to any form of individuality. He had learned a long time ago that transformation was the greatest thing in society, next to conformation.

The strange thing was that, from the second he set foot on the dreaded vehicle, he saw the inner desires of his heart. His heart longed for the exact things in which his mouth denied any acknowledgement. However, some things in life just have to be accepted and, in order to survive, overlooked.

Colby Simmons was a walking personification of this hackneyed tidbit of advice. He ever-so-gracefully accepted his seat at the back of the bus, walking the aisle of humiliation to reach his destination of isolation. However, his thought at the beginning of the morning would solidify as he looked up and saw Kurt Walker walking the aisle of fame. Strange how what was his own aisle humiliation transformed into something magnificent when Kurt graced it; then again, the whole town was that way, life was everything, and everything was football.

“Hey, Corey!” he said with a sense of superiority. He was the center of the school and the town, and he knew and loved it. “Guess what today is buddy?!”

“It’s Colby.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said, Corey,” said the rising football star. He was the big man on campus and even the principal bent the rules to please him; however, it wasn’t just for him. He reaped the benefits from his mother being a best-selling author and his father being a big-shot lawyer, but you’d never get that through his thick skull. It was all about him. “Anyway - like I was saying – today is your lucky day.”

“Oh really? Let me guess, I get to hand wash your jock strap?” Colby said, with sarcasm dripping from each syllable. Luckily for Colby, Kurt was either too ignorant or too wrapped up in himself to understand the concept of sarcasm.

“No, silly, that was last Tuesday,” Kurt said with a chuckle. “You get to add to the funding for my letterman’s jacket.”

Apparently, he had struck a nerve with Colby. Between the average income of his parents and the high standard of living, he was forced to wear his older brother’s old clothes. Meanwhile, a guy who could probably buy the entire senior class a letterman’s jacket was asking him for money. Life was playing a joke on him, or so it seemed, and he was not amused.

“What happened to big bucks daddy paying for it?” Colby snorted.

“If I would have used that money for a letterman’s jacket, how would I have made the down payment on my Corvette? You guys crack me up,”

It’s good that someone was laughing because a small spark of rage was beginning to flare up deep within the heart of Colby Simmons.

“Now, cough it up, Simmons,” ordered Kurt. With the brawn of his muscles and the number of friends, there was not a single soul that would say no to him. As he began to reach for his wallet, Colby found his courage instead.

“You know what, Kurt? If you want money, I’d suggest you go crawl back to daddy,” he said before he could even think.

In that exact instant, the air was vacuumed from the bus as Kurt’s smile turned into a face filled with anger. The laughter of the other students only increases the embarrassment which furthermore fueled the quarterback’s rage. Kurt Walker had never been publicly, or privately, embarrassed and he, apparently, wasn’t fond of first time experiences.

“What did you just say to me?” Kurt snarled as he grabbed the one hundred and twenty five pound lightweight by his collar.

At just that moment, a firm hand found its way onto the broad shoulder of Kurt Walker. Almost angelic to Colby’s situation, a tall, slender peer towered over Kurt, smiling. He had one of those smiles that just dripped with arrogance, just the good kind. He wasn’t an all-star football player, so he was down to earth. He knew he was intellectually superior to Kurt, and, in the back of both of their minds, they knew that was far more important than the length of your touchdown pass.

Troy Perry was the type of guy that appeared on the cover of Time magazine. He donated to charity, he was kind to every one, and was the epitomic personification of success. His path was paved with gold; however, his path was paved due to hard work instead of inheritance.

“You know, if you get sent to jail for assault and battery, you can’t play the game Friday, right?” he said suavely. The entire bus stopped as his voice ran like a dripping stream. No one cared that it was a stop sign ahead; the world stopped turning at the sound of his melodic voice.

With a swift movement, Kurt Walker stood up and brushed past his intellectual superior. Troy then lowered himself, both physically and socially, into the seat next to Colby. He smiled; this time it was different.

His eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue God ever created. The skies were a mere grayscale in comparison. His eyes were a rare breed in this self-indulged society; they possessed the rare trait of eternal compassion. For Colby, his black heart turned to gray at the mere kindness that beamed from Troy, like an aura of everything that was pure.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked with a reassuring smile. It was as if he knew everything that Colby had ever experienced, like Colby’s eyes were translucent doors to his soul and Troy saw right through them.

The laughter from the front of the bus directed directly towards him failed to phase him like it did every day. For the first day since he entered high school, he did not have to pretend it did not phase him. Every day, Colby heard the cheers and jeers from the popular crowd, but chose to pretend it did not bother him. However, on this day, it truthfully failed bother him, for he was too wrapped in the companionship that presented itself in front of his very eyes.

“Yes. I mean, no. Yes, you can sit here,” Colby said, stumbling over his words.

“I’m Troy Perry,” he said, extending his hand. His handshake was that of what one would expect from a preacher. It was warm and comforting – the cure for Colby’s pain inflicted soul. “Colby Simmons, right?”

Colby nodded, almost frozen in time, at the moment he met his first true friend. The walls around his heart began to crack at that moment in time, only God knew when they would crumble.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I want to apologize for how Kurt acted. He’s always like that, if you haven’t noticed,” Troy said sympathetically.

“I noticed,” Colby replied, the sense of agony lingering in his throat.

“Well, hey,” Troy began, “if any of those guys mess with you again, you just let me know. If it’s one thing I can’t stand in life, it’s those that put others down to push themselves up.”

Words of wisdom from a high school guru. His eyes were a perfect reflection of his noble, pure desires. What kind of high school student actually cared about anything other than the game Friday and the date Saturday? Troy was truly one of a kind, to say the least.

There were all kinds of rumors about Troy around school; however, these were just an infinitesimal fragment in comparison to those that fluttered around town about his parents. Life in a small town was like that; if one didn’t know what was going on in his life, he could rest assured that someone else did.

“So, how is your brother doing?” Troy asked, allowing his curiosity to get the better of him.

“Fine,” Colby answered bluntly. Troy was a good judge of character and was fully capable of understanding the hidden reasoning behind Colby’s bluntness; however, he had been consumed by curiosity, or persistence.

“Isn’t he in a rather large law firm up at Yale? Quite the family jewel, eh?” he blurted out.

“Heh, one could safely assume that,” Colby replied as his patience wore thinner by the second.

“

You don’t seem happy about that.”

“I – I just don’t want to talk about it,” Colby reluctantly replied. The mention of his brother was always a thorn in his paw. After all, he had to live up to his legacy, and even had to wear his old clothes. There was absolutely nothing in Colby’s life that he could call his own, for everything he had, his brother had already had.

“I understand,” Troy said perceptively. “I never wanted to talk about my brother either.”

Troy’s head lowered a bit and it became apparent that there was more to the story, a lot more; however, Colby didn’t have the gumption to ask about it at this vulnerable point in their newly born friendship. His instincts told him that Troy suffered a similar situation, but now was neither the time nor the place to ask.

“Seems like you and I have a lot in common,” he digressed. “We both have big shoes to fill, neither of us really fit in with the society, and we both offer so much more than what meets the eye. I know you wonder why I sat by you today and I’ll be ever so kind enough to let you in on that secret. There are attractions in this world other than physical appearance, and you, Colby Simmons, are much deeper than you’re given credit.”

That settled it in Colby’s mind. His eyes were indeed doors that were left wide open.

“I look forward to finding the precise bottom of your depth,” he said with a smile. “But for now, dear friend, we must part. I will see you around.”

And with that, he was gone. There are certain moments in life where one never really knows what just happened, only that it served a divine purpose. For Colby Simmons, this was one of those moments. He was seventeen years old and a junior in high school but not once could he ever call his friend. In moments such as these, they are utterly amazing; however, they still suffer the same fate: they are merely mortal. Even the best things in life still have a distinct beginning and end, but the effects last a lifetime. Things were definitely out of proportion. For once in Colby’s life, something was going right.