Dean - Drift

Drift

By Michael Dean

Drift

Copyright 2013 by Michael Dean. All rights reserved.

First Print Edition: November 2013

Limitless Publishing, LLC

Kailua, HI 96734

Formatting: Limitless Publishing

ISBN-13: 978-1493756063

ISBN-10: 1493756060

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual personsliving or deadis entirely coincidental.

~Dedication~

Drift is ded icated to those I grew up with.

You are loved and are my inspiration for this story .

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

ENDURE

Par for the course, sleep evaded me as usual.

A complete nights rest has never been a friend to me, more like a distant relative; Ive heard of it, but weve never met. But Im always on time for school and never have to be rudely awakened by an angry parent. That might be a good thing if I had a family who were actually around. Thats a nice thought, having a taste of normalcy in an abnormal existence. So goes the life of a vagabond.

Tonight I am listening to my iPod up in my favorite tree, about to sample a concoction I just came up with. Trust me when I say Im not bragging on it. I mixed a packet of hot taco sauce into a bowl of ramen noodles. Ive even named it, I call it poverty. This is something I usually do on these restless but quiet nights, not the cuisine de ramen, the jamming out to the sweet sounds of rock music. Okay, okay, its quiet enough. With my back propped against the tree trunk and my legs crossed and outstretched on the sturdy branch beneath me, my mind sways in chorus to the music while I stare down at the twinkling town below, choking down my hot mess of a meal and thinking about Darryl Kite, the popular town jerk-off who was having another party this weekend. That dude really gets under my skin. Unlike the other people in school, I wasnt looking forward to his engagement. Not solely because I feel like a social leper around large groups of people, but because Im being bullied into doing something I really dont want to do. It literally turns my stomach to have to help out such a raving idiot like Darryl. Why would I help someone I hate, one may ask? I do it all the time. Walk a mile in my shoes and find out.

I have to admit though, what I think about most is his stunning girlfriend, Shade Lewis, the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty who sits two rows to my left in one of my classes. She has the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. The thought of her is the only thing that gives my soul an emotional backdrop of peace. Thats why Im so torn about helping Darryl hurt her in order to fulfill his own selfish needs. I wish it was as easy as just saying no, but it isnt.

Dwelling on my multiple dilemmas occupied my mind from dusk till dawn. Once again Ive sat through the night, bearing witness to another beautiful Colorado sunrise peering over the snow-capped tops of the Eagle Peak mountain range. A sliver of warmth enters my chilled shell every time I see one. Makes me feel a part of something, unlike the way I feel about life in general and at school, sitting mute in the back of almost every class. I hate this life. At least I have one friend though, well, two, kind of, and that counts for something, I guess.

I just wish being Leo Cutler was as ordinary as this place, Mountainside, that I dwell in; a simple small town with small town values; family, friends, faith, and not necessarily always in that order.

No matter, it was time to close out another night in seclusion. Like most high school seniors, I have an English test on poetic writing to prepare for in Mrs. Duncans class this morning. I have to write an essay from a questionnaire about the poetic short stories of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I will be extracting from the tale what lessons modern society can learn from one of his works, The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner . This should be really easy for me to relate to considering that the story is about the captain of a ship who commits a sin by killing a bird of good omen, an albatross. To make a long story short, after the mariner and his shipmates experience horrors at sea because of this act, he gets saved, and as penance for his crime on the bird, he is forced to retell his tale to anyone he meets for the rest of his life. In doing so, he may save his soul. Moral of the story, we should love all things, big and small.

I feel like the mariner in my life, forever paying a penance for a crime I committed long ago. Like him, I am alone, doomed to a destiny of solitude. A life lived without love or being loved. The only advantage the mariner has over my situation is that he can still save his soul. Anyway, this should be a simple essay.

I hopped off my tree and got myself cleaned up. With not a bite of breakfast, as usual, I got into my car and took off for school. Even though I always have a jump on time every morning, it seems like Im always sprinting to Mrs. Duncans class in order to make it on time. Maybe its because of the sinking feeling in the pit of my gut, like an impending doom with every inch I get closer to school that makes my foot light on the accelerator, only to feel like both feet suddenly get weighted down by concrete when I get out of my car, causing me to drag butt to class. But today I managed to make it with a few minutes to spare. Sitting with my hands in my lap and my eyes on my desk, avoiding eye contact with everyone, I took a sneak peek up to watch the classic beauty Shadea true girl next doorstroll in. Today she was wearing a baggy T-shirt with tight jeans that had designer sparkles sewn onto the butt. Its worth pointing out, just for my own satisfaction, that I most enjoy the days when she wears tight skirts with form fitting tops. Either way, she always looks gorgeous to me.

Shade slid her bag off her shoulder, allowing it to plop onto the floor beside her desk. She got on her knees to unzip the pack and pulled her English book out of it. After setting what she needed on top of her desk, she fiercely stuffed her bag in the book tray that hangs beneath her seat. I giggled under my breath because her MP3 ear buds fell out, causing her to fumble around, stuffing them back inside before the teacher could catch her with them. Shes too cute.

M ore than anything, Im fascinated by her movements and expressions. She has more beauty that bursts out from within her than she could possibly know. Maybe its the way she pulls her front bangs behind her ear when she leans over a book, or maybe its her plump lips wrapping around the eraser of her pencil as her teeth lightly chew on the tip that makes me squirm with excitement. There are times when she catches me staring and we lock eyes briefly. In a true shy boy fashion, feeling as if I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar, my eyes jump back down to the work upon my desk. Sometimes I feel her staring for a few extra seconds after I turn my eyes away. I can never be certain though, as I lack the courage to take a second glance.

Here I was, once again, a harmless stalker basking in her glow. I finished my essay a few minutes before Shade and watched her slide her hands through her hair in frustration. Her appeal is irresistible, even when shes flustered. Before I slid too deep into the essence that is Shade for another morning, a rude and disruptive smack came across the middle of my back, releasing me from my daydreaming and stealing my breath. The slap echoed across the classroom. Our teacher raised her eyes from the book she was reading and gave us all a stern sssshhhuuuuusssssshhh.