[Sixteen] Michael: Introduction (First Post)
- From: "Scott" <sixteenpbem@xxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <sixteen@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Thu, 13 May 2004 06:21:11 -0400
Sixteen
Scott as Michael Hartford
"Introduction"
"So, what did you do today?" Sarah smiled as she
handed Michael the bowl of potatoes. She seemed to
always have a smile on her face since the move. Every
time she took a breath of air out doors or walked down
Main street.
"What do you mean 'What did I do'? There's nothing to
do around here." Michael spooned a healthy portion of
the starch food onto his plate. For some reason his
mother loved to cook potatoes and the vegetable, in
some form, would always appear on the table at dinner.
"Of course there is. Have you gone down to the river
yet?" His mother asked again... for the fifth time and
with the same exact twinkle in her eye.
"Ma, for the last time: No. That thing is *filthy*. It
probably has leeches in it or something. Besides, who
would I go to the river with?"
"You could go with that blonde next door." His father
said softly, picking up his fork. "She was eying you
as we moved in."
"She was *eyeing* me because I look different." The
table went silent for a few moments. Michael didn't
look up but he knew that his parents were exchanging
serious looks. His eyes stung slightly because while
he knew the girl was eyeing him. He was eyeing her
brother who decided to help them out... without his
shirt on.
"-her name?" Again, silence. "Michael!"
Michael looked up quickly from his food, feeling
guilty for having those thoughts. He felt sick
suddenly.
"Did you catch her name, I asked," his father
clarified, watching the boy closely.
"James." He looked down at his food, he'd barely eaten
but he didn't feel hungry anymore. He felt as if
something was about to give in the pit of his stomach
that would cause him to break down and spill his
secrets all over the potatoes.
"That's her brother's name, Kevin. I think her name
was-" His mother stopped as Michael stood quickly,
bumping the table and almost spilling his drink over.
"'Scuse me." He dashed back to his room and threw
himself onto his bed. His screensaver, a morphing
ball, bounced back and forth on his computer screen.
It was one of the few things that was unpacked. His
bed, his computer and his entire medicine closet and
grooming-hygiene products. In New York the appearance
of so many things was just an indicator of how 'with
it' you were but here it was: "Jesus, man, you have
more shampoos than my sister."
He could have been an actor or a model or even an
intern at a bank for the summer. Instead he was here,
in Sterling. Without his friends and without any
decent malls.
He hated it here.
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