Date: Sat, 22 May 2010 12:01:51 +0200 From: Anonymous Anonymous Subject: Southern Sweethearts, Chapter 1 AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys. I've written a lot in the past, and randomly got inspiration to write a new story. I haven't written in about 7 months, so let me know if I need to improve on anything. I realize that I switch tenses a lot, but I don't think it's that big of a deal. You are welcome to suggest things about the story, but I can't promise I'll implement them. If I get a good enough response from this chapter, I will write the next. E-mail me at niftyauthor@live.se What a summer it had been. I was sitting there on my front porch, watching the intense Sun sink below the Southern horizon. The cool wind blowing across my face gave little comfort to the fact that my senior year of high school was approaching. I recall whining to my mom as a child about how I couldn't wait to grow up. Well, if only I could go back. I'd be turning 18 that September; just one month away. It seems like yesterday that I was walking into middle school with high hopes of seeing at least one fight. It's funny how your desires can change in such a short time. But, despite my reminiscences, I know that we all have to grow up sometime, and that I did. Over the summer, I'd grown to a sweet height of 5'10. Maybe that's not so tall compared to some guys my age, but it beats the hell out of the 5'5 I was sporting the year before. Call me a late bloomer if you want, 'cause I am. I won't deny that I'm a bit small for my age. At 125lbs, I have to be careful to watch what I eat... joke. The fact is that I'd been trying to gain weight all summer to no avail. It's pretty embarrassing when you're 16 year old brother can march around the house carrying you over his shoulder. But, what the hell; not everyone is a meat head. I stood up and walked inside my house. I'm not one to brag, but my parents did a fine job of building this beautiful house. They are by no means rich, but growing up poor, they sure do know how to manage their money. I'll never know how they managed to afford these giant windows that face the dirt roads that go in both directions along our house, or the neverending pastures that make me proud to be from Oklahoma. The smell of cornbread and fried chicken wafted through the house as I walked upstairs. My mom's cooking made my mouth water, despite me having eaten it for the past 17 years of my life. She's always saying how she needs to get fatter chickens to get some meat on my bones, but I don't know why she bothers. I ventured up the stairs and into my room, and as I flopped down on my bed, I hugged my pillow. Call me sad, but come on, you know it's comforting. Let me tell you now that I am a dreamer. No, not the kind that lies around wondering what it'd be like to have a million dollars (although the thought has crossed my mind). More like, the kind whose thoughts always consist of, "What would it be like if he'd just talk to me?". You know.. the depressing kind. I can't stop these thoughts from entering my head. I mean, every teenager yearns to be freed from the burden of loneliness. I was no different. Unlike my heterosexual peers, though, I didn't have the luxury of going from partner to partner every other week. No, in fact, the small amount of gay guys that there were in my town weren't even worth my time. They're what you would call a 'stereotypical' gay. All they care about is sex. I mean, we've all heard the stereotype that guys only have one thing on their minds, but that isn't true. However, with these guys, I wouldn't doubt that it was. It also doesn't help that they can't seem to even hold their wrist straight. What possesses these guys to perpetuate the bitter stereotypes that plague the gay community? I mean, consider me; I'm a scrawny guy. I have a feminine body, even. But, I don't walk around in skin tight jeans, or boasting eyeliner. That's totally not me, nor is it of interest to me. For the last three years of high school, I have had the hopes that a "regular" guy would come to my school. But, hope doesn't make things come true; it just keeps us sane. This was my last year of high school, though, and I was hoping more than ever. I even caught myself waiting until 11:11 to silently murmur to myself the wish I knew so well, in hopes that for some reason, it'd change things. It never did, though. Or, it hasn't yet. But, here I go hoping again: Maybe this year will be different. I felt myself drift asleep as I got lost in my thoughts, only to be abruptly awoken by my mom, informing me that her world famous dinner was ready to be eaten. I got up quickly and went downstairs into the kitchen. My brother and father were already down there. Right, my brother.. whom I haven't mentioned. His name is Kaden, and he's much taller than I am, despite being two years younger. He's around 6'1, and is well built from playing football since little league. I didn't envy him, though. There was a silent understanding that I liked being as small as I was, so he never ragged on me for it. I grinned to myself as I stuffed my face with fried chicken. The taste was celestial, to say the least. My mom sure knew how to cook. I watched my brother devour heaps of chicken and cornbread, and I wondered why he seemed to pack on the meat whereas it was as though the food didn't affect me. I guess I'd never know. I didn't really care, though, as long as I got to taste it. My parents always got done eating before my brother and I did, so they'd go into the kitchen and start doing the dishes together. We didn't have a dish washer, so we had to manually wash them. Their absence always gave my brother and me a chance to talk about whatever was on our minds. Despite being so different, my brother and I actually got along quite well. It was a different story when we were about 8 and 10, but we're nearly adults now. "Are you nervous for school?" Kaden asked me. "A little bit. What about you?" I asked. 'A little bit' was a bit of an understatement. To be honest, I was nervous for school every day. It's not like people slam me into lockers and such anymore, but when I was a freshman and sophomore, I was exposed to all kinds of unfathomable hatred. If you're reading this, you probably know what I mean. Kids would try to manipulate my friends to turn against me, they'd spread rumors, they'd physically and verbally harass me.. it just wasn't fun. But, things have changed since then. My whole junior year, I wasn't exposed to an ounce of homophobia. That's a huge deal considering I live in Oklahoma. I was hoping I'd have the same awesome luck this year. Who knows? Maybe it'd double. "Nah, I'm pumped." he said with his mouth full. Of course he's "pumped". He's a football player. As with most high school hierarchies, that automatically made him popular. But, I have my own friends who keep me sane. That was about the extent of our conversation as I got up to stumble upstairs. It was late now. Well, 10pm, at least, which is late considering I had to get up at the crack of dawn the next morning. I bade my brother goodnight, and found my way into my bed. I hugged my pillow again, and let myself fall into dreams of experiencing pure bliss. I didn't know it then, but I was about to find out that some wishes do come true.