{"sf1_id":160513,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Dragon in the Dishwater, Ch 1","author":"comidacomida","words":7085,"posted_at":"2010-07-10T22:59:00.000Z","tags":["Angst","Character Development","Highschool","Human","Plot Development","Psychological","Teenager","Trouble","broken home","deep storyline","sociological"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/160513-dragon-in-the-dishwater-ch-1","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/160513","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=160513\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"Dragon in the Dishwater  \nChapter 1  \nCopyright 2005 comidacomida\n\n_Author Forward: Eric Bradish is an angsty teenager who has been exposed to a lot of hardship within the past few years. Having withdrawn as much from human interaction as possible, Eric is about to have his life turned upside down yet again... this time, perhaps for the better._\n\n_I do not recall where I first heard the term \"Dragon in the Dishwater\", but it struck me as profound: an extrordinary thing found in a mundane, every day place. Choosing this as the title for the story seems so very appropriate, as the story will quickly come to involve the extrordinary but, also, will come to show how ordinary people in adverse conditions can quickly become more than they appear, and achieve more than they knew possible._  \n\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe MIG was on his tail and the missile lock warning was going off. His  \nvision was flashing, and he knew he'd have to do something, or it would end right  \nthere. Pressing forward on the stick, Eric hit the afterburner control. It was a  \nstupid stunt, but it just might help. The greenery far below filled his vision, with  \nlittle black tinges around the edge of his sight showing that the descent was too  \nfast... that it would mean a blackout and, shortly thereafter, one very sudden stop  \nwhen his F-16 met up with the earth.\n\nHe pulled back sharply on the stick... then screamed as his vision was  \nengulfed in flame; his risky maneuver failed to pay off. The enemy missile had  \nstruck home, and there was nothing left to do but watch as another F-16 fell to  \nthe ground in a smoke-trailing ball of flame. Eric tossed his joystick across the  \nroom; it was his eighth attempt at the air combat mission, and his exclamation  \nsaid it all, \"FUCK!\"\n\nThe young man collapsed backward on his bed, letting his videogame  \nconsole finish the \"game over\" music. The largest problem he found with the  \ndifficult game was not that it took an eternity to master, rather, that there was no  \nsave option during the mission for when things were going well... not to mention  \nhow long it took for the game to reset so he could try again. Many would contest  \nthat it was just not worth the time to beat... but Eric had plenty of time, and there  \nwasn't much else going on.\n\nEric had chosen F-16: Gulf Attack over any other game specifically  \nbecause the gamer magazines called it \"impossible for the layman\", and  \ncountless online sources had numerous posts calling it \"a waste of time\"; he was  \nalways drawn to anything that was labeled as a time waster or impossible.  \nGlancing at the homework-- a messy stack of papers and books, Eric turned  \nback to the television. He reached off the bed to grab the cord of the joystick and  \nhe yanked it back within reach. It was Friday night, which meant that there would  \nbe two more days to get his homework done.\n\nMechanically, Eric went through the motions of the primary take-off,  \nadvancing game speed over the stretch of water, then slowing it back down as  \nhe approached the shores of what would technically be Qatar, \"Not exactly  \nrealistic.\" he told himself, \"Pine trees in the Middle East...\" To him, it always  \nseemed that videogames failed to focus on the real details of life... maybe that's  \nwhy he spent so much time engrossed in them.\n\nEric sat up straight, hitting the pause button as he heard the front door  \nslam downstairs. He quickly tucked the controller back into its cubby in the  \nentertainment center, and switched the television off, nimbly covering the glowing  \nlight on the videogame console with a carefully prepared black sticker. Now, with  \nthe entertainment center appearing to be completely off, Eric hurled the chair at  \nhis desk, and opened his Calculus book. He frantically sifted through the desk  \nuntil he found a mechanical pencil, and readied it as he heard the footsteps  \ncoming up the stairs.\n\n\"Eric, honey...\" his mom's voice called through the door. She gave her  \npatented precursory triple-knock and then invited herself in. He looked up from  \nthe book and glanced over his shoulder. \"I knocked.\" she offered, noting the sour  \nexpression on his face.\n\n\"You didn't wait for an answer.\" he replied flatly.\n\nShe scowled slightly in response but quickly offered in an almost  \napologetic smile, \"I'm getting better at least.\"\n\nEric shrugged and returned to his book, the prospect of homework starting  \nto look better and better, \"Yea.\" he offered noncommittally, \"Yea you are.\"  \n\"Well excuse me...\" she added, moving in to start tidying his bed, \"The  \nwhole 'stay out of my son's life' thing is still new.\"\n\nEric let out a sigh, but didn't answer; there was no reasoning with Linda  \nBradish when she got into her motherly \"groove\". She sat down on the corner of  \nhis bed and began discussing his day at school, his homework, and how his  \nfriends were doing. Eric offered a noncommittal shrug in response to most of her  \nquestions, especially the ones regarding his friends.\n\nSince the beginning of middle school Eric hadn't had any friends and now,  \nsix years later, that hadn't changed. Unfortunately for him it still hadn't sunk in  \nfor his mother; Eric was convinced that she wouldn't ever be able to understand  \nwhat \"unpopular\" meant or that some people just couldn't make friends easily. It  \noften got so bad that Eric believed she was actively trying to sabotage his alone  \ntime... and she was very good at it.\n\nThough his mother tried her best to get him involved outside of school and  \nto set up what she considered to be \"fun activities\" for him, Eric just didn't mesh  \ninto anything anyone considered a normal social group. He didn't mind not fitting  \nin at all but it seemed to grate on his mother endlessly. She was always talking  \nabout kids who holed up in their rooms turning into serial killers or high school  \ngun slingers. At times like that Eric could only scowl inwardly; it only illustrated  \ntheir difference in points of view.\n\nAfter what seemed like an eternity, Eric's mother finally stood up, gave  \nhim a hug and kissed his cheek then headed right out of the room. Looking  \ndown at his homework, Eric sighed. He glanced at the clock: sixty two problems  \nin an hour and nineteen minutes. It wasn't his best record for homework while  \nbeing subjected to his mother, but it wasn't bad. Sometimes he was convinced  \nthat he wouldn't ever get his homework done if it wasn't for his mother's constant  \nforays into his room. Even so, it certainly was a good start for senior year, and  \nhe was sure he would beat his record before the year ended.\n\nIt wasn't that he was actively trying to antagonize her... he just needed his  \nspace and she never gave any. Eric tapped the eraser of the pencil on the desk  \na few times as he heard her head back down the stairs to start on dinner. He let  \nout another sigh and slid his homework page into the book and closed it. The  \nyoung man set his pencil down on the desk and flopped back onto his bed. He  \ngrumbled to himself over his mother's newest idea: she was going to bring him to  \nthe park tomorrow.\n\n\"Kill me now, God... just kill me now.\"\n\n\\* \\* \\* \\* \\* \\*\n\n\u0026nbsp; The sun was shining and the sky was a perfect shade of blue. It was  \nwarm out without it being too warm, and the cool breeze was just soft enough to  \nmake the weather fresh without a cold bite. It was the kind of day where  \neveryone on the street smiled because Saturdays were only ever that perfect in  \nstories or on television-- and Eric hated it.\n\nWalking around to the back of his mother's station wagon he popped the  \nhatch and took out a bed sheet and a wicker basket. His mother slowly climbed  \nout of the driver's seat and opened the second door on the driver's side, grabbing  \nher portable radio. Eric withered on the inside at the picturesque, sickeningly  \nmundane idea of a picnic at the park, and his scowl deepened.\n\n\"Eric, I'm gonna go find a good spot under a tree. When you have  \neverything together just come and find me.\" his mom said, heading off towards  \nthe park proper, avoiding the playground and the paved skateboard half pipe.  \nLetting out a sigh, Eric crumpled up the sheet over the basket and hauled them  \nalong in his arms, walking after his mother.\n\nApproaching the place where his mother stood, Eric stopped. She had  \nchosen a shaded spot with thick grass beneath a broad, tall oak. \"Why a picnic?\"  \nhe asked at length.\n\nHis mother looked to him and took the bed sheet from his grasp. She  \nbegan smoothing it out on the ground, busying herself with the activity as she  \nspoke, \"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because sun burns can lead to cancer.\" he replied flatly.\n\n\"So can sitting in front of the computer all day.\" she retorted, taking the  \nbasket out of his grasp. Eric's mother set the basket down atop the sheet and  \nturned to regard him, taking a seat next to it, \"Besides, we never do anything as a  \nfamily anymore.\"\n\nEric rolled his eyes, \"So you wait till after dad leaves before you start  \nthinking about family stuff, huh?\" If his brain had thought just a half second faster  \nhe would have kept the words from coming out of his mouth, but he had the  \npresence of mind not to outwardly show his sudden surprise at his own callous  \ncomment. His mother looked as if she had been hit by a rolled-up brick.\n\n\"E-Eric...\" she stuttered, false-starting twice before she could even say his  \nname. He sat uncomfortably as she continued, \"You know my therapist and I  \ntalked about this, and he thinks it might be good for me to-\"\n\n\"No... you think it might be good for you to.\" stated Eric, \"Therapists are  \npaid to listen to what patients have to say, then force the patients to come up  \nwith answers to their own problems. They earn their money because they can be  \nthe scapegoats when their patients come up with stupid solutions. 'Oh, it wasn't  \nmy idea, it was my therapist's.' and all that crap.\" he could have handled it better,  \nbut, by that point, he was uncomfortable enough without having to listen to his  \nmother's reminiscing of her therapy sessions; he'd heard it too often already and  \nthat was the last kind of interaction he wanted.\n\n\"I've gotten a lot better since I started going.\" she offered in her own  \ndefense.\n\n\"Whatever.\" was his only reply. Eric grabbed one of the sandwiches from  \nthe basket along with a can of soda that had been packed within a bag of ice and  \nstood up, \"I'll meet you back at the car.\" He headed off into the park, ignoring  \nany further comments she directed at him, bagged sandwich in one hand, and  \naluminum can in the other.\n\nEric didn't head back in the direction of the car, at least, not immediately.  \nThe young man walked further into the shaded area of the park, large trees  \ngrowing up high around him. He remembered coming to the park what felt like  \nages ago, laughing with friends he no longer spoke with, playing games he had  \nlong since chosen to forget, and smiling in ways that were alien to him now. It  \nalmost seemed to have taken place in a different life... one that had ended the  \nday his dad left for good.\n\nHe sat down beneath a tree thinking about that, idly taking a bite of the  \nturkey sandwich then chewing disinterestedly before washing it down with a swig  \nof cola. Eric's father had never been a big influence on his life. The man had  \nworked almost every day for the 15 years Eric had been in existence. Every day  \nwhen he got home, the enigma that was Eric's father would sit down in front of  \nthe television with a beer until dinner was ready. Of course... dinner was magic  \ntime.\n\nEric remembered dinner being his favorite time of the day. His mom  \nwould finish preparing a big, home-cooked meal and call everyone into the dining  \nroom. His dad would turn off the TV and actually join his family for what became  \nthe greatest ritual of Eric's life: family time. It was during dinner that his dad  \nbecame a person; the curtain of mystery surrounding Eric's father figure would  \npart, and Eric would have the chance to actually glimpse the man behind the  \nwall. It was at that time that Eric's dad would smile and laugh and chuckle, and  \ntalk.\n\nEric didn't really care what the discussions were about. Sometimes his  \nfather would talk about what happened about work. One day it might be a  \ndiscussion about Marty, a coworker. On another day his dad would talk about  \npolitics. There were times when his father would actually talk about his family,  \nand future outing plans or upcoming vacation time that never seemed to  \nmanifest. Sometimes he would talk about Nina, one of the executive assistants.  \nEric stopped thinking about dinner, having hit an unpleasant note.\n\nHe stood up, dusting his jeans off as he tossed an empty sandwich bag to  \none side. Draining the last of his soda, the young man left the empty can on one  \nof the markers, balancing it on the thick wooden stake beside the path leading  \nthrough the trees. Eric rubbed his hands together, getting the last of the  \nbreadcrumbs off of them and started the short jaunt back to the car. His mother  \nwould be getting worried if he took much longer, and he already knew he'd get to  \nhear a big lecture about the meaning of \"family time\".\n\nPausing for just a moment, Eric slowed to admire a collection of stones  \nhaphazardly strewn about the side of the path. He moved over to the many  \nrocks and casually moved a few aside, looking over the small pile. With the eye  \nof an expert, Eric selected three stones out of the pile, one about the size of a  \nmarble, another almost golf ball size, and the third not quite the size of his fist.  \nHe put the first two into one pocket with his wallet, and slid the third into a side  \npocket on its own.  \nEric knew the ride home would be unpleasant, especially since he ditched  \nhis mother on the \"family outing\", but at least he found a few more rocks to add to  \nhis collection. If there was one thing having a lot of extra time was good for it  \nwas making collections... and Eric had quite a few. The pride of his collection of  \ncollections, by far, was his rock collection. Eric was always on the look out for  \noddly shaped stones and strangely formed rocks. Sometimes it was color that  \ncaught his eye, and at other times it was shape, but, to be sure, he had one of  \nmost varied collection of rocks out there.\n\n\"Have fun?\" she asked, the question devoid of tone and her body  \nlanguage purposefully muted. He didn't respond, climbing into the passenger's  \nside of the station wagon without a word. She let out a sigh, getting into the  \ndriver's seat before looking across space that separated them, \"You hate me,  \ndon't you?\"\n\nIt was Eric's turn to sigh, having become quite used to that question, \"No, I  \ndon't hate you.\" he responded, \"If I were to hate you it'd be because you're  \nalways asking me if I hate you, and it's getting old.\" The two didn't exchange  \nanother word on the way home.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \\* \\* \\* \\* \\* \\*\n\nHalloween was three weeks later and Eric hadn't been invited to any  \nparties. It was exactly what he expected, but, as usual, his mother was up in  \narms about it. Eric was just about to give up and retreat to his room when she  \nfinally began to calm and she approached him in an almost reasonable manner  \nbefore he had the opportunity to run off.\n\n\"Eric, honey, whatever happened to that nice Katelyn girl from your U.S.  \nHistory class?\" she questioned, \"If anyone would have invited you to a Halloween  \nparty she would have.\"\n\nEric covered his face, mumbling before he turned and looked to her,  \n\"Mom... Katelyn is one of the 'in crowd'... those are the people who use others to  \nget what they want. Katelyn wanted to get a good grade in the class so she  \nlatched onto me hoping I'd help her cheat or something.\"\n\n\"Maybe she wanted a study partner.\" his mother offered amiably.\n\nEric let out a harsh, condescending sigh, \"Mom... if she wanted a study  \npartner she'd have asked Rick Matthews... that's her boyfriend. The 'in crowd'  \ndoesn't study with their study partners, okay?\"\n\nEric's mother let out a deep breath, \"I'm just saying-\"\n\n\"If she invited me to a party it would be as a pizza delivery boy, or as the  \ntarget of some cruel joke.\" Eric noted dryly.\n\n\"Well... maybe if you would accept offers like that more often you might  \nget invited to more parties.\" his mother ventured.\n\n\"Mom... please... just stop.\" Eric turned away, heading up the stairs, \"I  \ndon't want to hear it.\"\n\nHis mother sighed in failure, heading off into the kitchen as he made his  \nway upstairs. Eric closed the door and sat down on the bed. He pulled out the  \ngame controller and turned on his TV, muting it as the game loaded up. Eric had  \nspent the better part of a month on the same mission... and he was convinced  \nthat he would get past it that night... even if he had to stay up until it was time for  \nschool. The game was a convenient distraction that the young man intended to  \nmake full use of.\n\nHis cursing reached a crescendo after his seventh death that night,  \nbringing his total to fifty-something F-16s lost on that mission alone. It was well  \npast midnight by that time and Eric had no choice but to call it a night to avoid  \nawakening his mother with the sound of breaking videogame console. Shutting  \noff the gaming system, Eric glanced to his unfinished calculus homework for the  \nday and sat down at his desk, going through the busy work with mechanical  \nprecision, barely even focusing on the problems as he took them step by step,  \nconfident enough that he could do them in his sleep.\n\nEric awoke with an hour and a half to go before school, his face plastered  \nagainst the cover of his calculus book, pencil still in hand, homework set aside--  \ncomplete. He rubbed the side of his face, wondering if the cover of his book  \nwould leave a discoloration on his cheek as if he were silly putty. He didn't  \nbother looking in the mirror as he got ready, not particularly interested in finding  \nout one way or another.\n\nThe young man went through his morning routine of getting ready for  \nschool, smugly pleased that, after eight years of sociological hell he was finally in  \nhis last year. Eric grabbed his homework and stuffed it into his backpack then  \nheaded down to the first floor. The young man went into the kitchen, sifting  \nthrough the cabinets and the fridge looking for a quick bite. He was always glad  \nto have time alone to himself and was thankful that his mom had an early shift at  \nher job; it gave him the whole morning before school to enjoy the silence of being  \nalone.\n\nEric made quick work of a bowl of generic cereal and tossed his dirty bowl  \nand spoon up beside the pile of dishes already cluttering the counter. The last  \ntwo years saw a lot of changes around the house as his mother went through the  \ndownward spiral of abandonment. What was once a spotless, well kept kitchen  \ndegraded into an occasionally somewhat-clean area where food was kept far  \naway from the danger-zone that was the counter, and the fridge that was only  \nsometimes emptied of two-week-old leftovers.\n\nAs Eric headed to school his mind began to wander back to happier times.  \nHe remembered the simple joys of basking in the presence of his parents as he  \nsat beside them on the sofa, his family enjoying a movie... or even a television  \nsitcom. It was only a little over two years ago, but it felt so far away. He knew  \nthat those times would never be within reach again but he couldn't force himself  \nto give up on the memories or to forget the happiness he used to know.\n\nHe stepped into the hallway, the squirming masses of fellow students  \nmulling all over, always in his way, chatting, talking, conversing... he passed by  \nRick Matthews, who was all over Crystal Burke, the two of the teens virtually dry-  \nhumping in the hall. Eric passed right by, wondering how much longer Rick and  \nKatelyn would be a couple if Rick kept being so nonchalant about his activities  \nwith other women. Not being the gossiping type, nor the kind of person that  \nparticularly enjoyed soap operas, Eric put the thoughts right out of his mind, and  \nheaded into his first period class.\n\n\"Mister Bradish,\" noted his first period math teacher, \"You're late.\"  \nEric did a double take, looking at the clock: 7:50. He looked back to his  \nteacher, \"Mr. Oliver, it isn't 8:00 yet.\"\n\nQuincy Oliver, his calculus teacher chuckled. The big black man had a  \nhumor few could understand-- and fewer tried. Mr. Oliver leaned back in his  \nchair, hands resting behind his head against the salt-and-pepper, short cut hair.  \nHe twitched his mustache before speaking, \"I mean you're late for you. Usually I  \nsee you in here by fifteen till... at the latest.\"\n\nEric shrugged in response, \"Sorry to disappoint you.\"\n\nHe took a seat in his usual spot. Math class was one of his favorites  \nbecause Mr. Oliver had the long standing rule that students could sit wherever  \nthey wanted... which meant Eric got to be by himself. It was a decent enough  \narrangement and the young man felt it suited everyone, especially because of  \nthe fact that Mr. Oliver was able to isolate the problem groups and keep an eye  \non them as a whole... not that there were many problem groups in an advance  \nplacement math class... but the theory remained the same.\n\nEric took the time to get all of his calculus homework out, setting it in a pile  \natop his desk as he searched his backpack for calculator, pencil, and extra  \npaper. He took the time to organize his goods and shuffle through the  \nhomework, very obviously busying himself to avoid eye contact or interaction with  \nany of the other students. He even went to the extra trouble of messing with the  \nlead in his mechanical pen so its length would be \"just right\"... and flicked the  \npencil's eraser against his book to pass the time.\n\nMore students slowly filtered into the room, finding whatever seats they  \ndesired, and collapsing into them as if the weight of the world were on their  \nshoulders. As the students quieted down, Mr. Oliver began taking roll. He did a  \nbrief overview of the expectations for the homework assignments then had  \neveryone pass their papers forward. Class began without any hitches, and Eric  \nsettled into the routine; it was going to be a long day.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \\* \\* \\* \\* \\* \\*  \n  \nEric began walking the usual stretch of roadway home. He was strong  \nenough that the three thick textbooks in his backpack were barely noticeable. By  \nno stretch of imagination was Eric a jock, but there were certainly some students  \nmore out-of-shape than he. Standing not-quite six foot tall, Eric could have been  \nan imposing figure if not for his strict code of non-interaction. Even though he  \nwas near 200 pounds with only a faint layer of pudge, the young man somehow  \nmanaged to avoid the air-of-intimidation that most others with his build exuded  \neasily.\n\nIt was five blocks between his home and the school: barely a half mile.  \nSometimes, in order to change things up a little, Eric would take a different path,  \npreferring a long-cut to a shortcut. It wasn't so much that Eric wanted to stay in  \nshape as he was more than willing to waste some extra time en route. He had  \nthe benefit of extra time on his hands and no car; both of those little facts added  \nup to strong legs and patience in transit.\n\nAfter he passed the fourth block Eric could clearly see his house, and  \nnoted the car in the driveway: his mother was already home. Deciding on the  \nspot that he wouldn't mind a greatly extended trip home, Eric took the next  \ncorner, marching his way down towards the city park about 8 blocks away. The  \nwalk was an easy one without any large inclines or declines in his path.  \nRegardless, it was a fairly hot day and he brushed some of his brown hair out of  \nhis eyes, idly wiping away little beads of perspiration.\n\nThe walk was quiet with few people on the side street except for a small  \nthrong of grade school kids playing alongside the road. Eric passed by them,  \none group playing hopscotch while another group set up for a game of street  \nhockey. Moving quickly, Eric managed to get by either set of children without as  \nmuch as a glance. It wasn't very difficult with both groups fully immersed in their  \ngames but he made it a point not to be waylaid regardless.\n\nIt was kind of silly, he told himself after crossing an intersecting street to  \nthe next block. Since he was only wasting time on the walk it shouldn't bother  \nhim to be stopped by the children but he was never good with kids and would  \nrather skip the encounter if given the choice. Only two blocks ahead of him was  \nthe park gates and he would gladly give up the empty, concrete streets for the  \nsecluded privacy of the southern section of the mid-city park. He looked forward  \nto the shaded grass at the area covered in trees which he knew were perfect for  \npermitting quiet contemplation and time alone.\n\nEric frowned as he saw the large gathering of people on the outskirts of  \nthe park. There was some kind of gathering, probably a PTA meeting or some  \nactivist group he told himself. Eric continued forward, skirting the little groups  \nthat were clogging up the grass. He lowered his gaze, keeping track of the  \nground in front of his feet, making a bee line for the trees towards the center of  \nthe park but, sadly, he was not to make it there unscathed.\n\n\"Hey! Eric!\" came a shout from far off to the side. He told himself that the  \ncall wasn't that loud, and that he could probably get by without having to  \nacknowledge it and blame it later on the noise around him, but the owner of the  \nvoice was too fast, and she slid through the gathering crowd like an otter through  \nwater. Letting out a sigh, Eric turned to regard the young woman, roughly his  \nage with curly brown hair that bounced with each step and a glitter in her lively  \nblue eyes that always accompanied a happy smile.\n\n\"Hey, Kat.\" he responded simply, idly contemplating if it was rude to be  \ncounting off a 5 second chance for her to start a conversation before continuing  \non. He only had a little over three seconds to think about it before she got  \nstraight to the point.\n\n\"I didn't think I'd see you here, but I guess it'd make sense and all.\" She  \nsmiled.\n\nEric glanced around, \"The park?\"\n\nKatrina let out a titter... a sound more suitable for someone half their age,\n\n\"No, silly... at the rally.\"\n\n\"Rally?\" Eric raised an eyebrow, \"What?\"\n\nKatrina, or Kat, as everyone in their school called her took a hold of his  \nchin and rotated his head towards the stage that had been set up, where a group  \nof people were preparing a podium. A large wooden scaffold was built up over  \nthe stage, and a long piece of cloth was draped down the back with a large,  \nupside down, pink triangle.\n\n\"There's... huh?\" Eric asked blankly, pausing before pulling her hand  \naway from his chin.\n\n\"It's only been on every other billboard in school. Gay and lesbian  \nstudents have been talking it up for a month.\" she eyed him, \"That's why you're  \nhere, isn't it?\"\n\n\"I don't pay attention to th-\" he did a double take, \"You guess what'd  \nmake sense?\" he suddenly registered her earlier statement.\n\n\"Oh, come on, Eric, it's okay to be open here... that's what this event is-\"  \nhe cut her off.\n\n\"I'm not gay.\" he stated flatly, \"Why are YOU here?\"\n\n\"Support. Duh!\" noted Kat, \"It's okay for straight people to show support.  \nTheodore is around here somewhere too.\"\n\nEric sighed at the mention of Katrina's jock boyfriend. The two fit together  \nabout as well as a circular peg in a square hole but Kat was smart enough and  \nTeddy was dumb enough that she got whatever she wanted from him... so it  \nworked just fine for her. Eric found the whole situation too childish to comment  \non or become involved in but, for some reason, Katrina Waters always ended up  \nfinding him and making him her business. He thought it was a skill she perfected  \nfor school grounds-- somehow, however, it worked outside school too.\n\n\"So what do ya want?\" he asked her straight out.\n\n\"Just wanted to say hello. It's always fun to see a familiar face at one of  \nthese things. Jennifer Galner is here somewhere too with others from the  \nyearbook... I'm going to see if I can get in a few shots. Helps with the campaign  \nand all.\" she winked.\n\n\"Yea. Good luck with the student body prez... thing. Well... see ya.\" Eric  \noffered in parting, making his get away as the tide of the crowd allowed him a  \nquick departure.\n\nMoving through the throng of people like a drowning man trying to paddle  \nhimself to shore, Eric pushed his way towards the trees desperately seeking  \nsuccor from the contact of countless people and a crowd he was incredibly  \nuncomfortable around. Once inside the safety of the trees the young man moved  \naway from any view of the surrounding area and let out a deep breath. Eric  \nslumped to the ground, leaning his back against one of the many tree trunks and  \nrested his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.\n\nWhen he finally looked up he found his hands wet, and he slowly wiped  \nthem dry, followed quickly by his cheeks as he his all evidence of tears. He let  \nout a breath and slowly ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes and cursing  \neveryone in his park. Suddenly, it didn't seem like somewhere he wanted to  \nbe... especially with everyone around and a rally going on.\n\nEric had known he was gay for about 2 years, ever since a few months  \nafter his 15th birthday. It wasn't a sudden shocking epiphany or an irrational  \nsurge of emotions at the realization; it came about slow and with strange clarity  \nand painful actualization. At first Eric realized that, during the years when he was  \ndrawing away from everyone, the opposite sexes in his classes began drawing  \ncloser. It was as if the childhood myth of cooties was coming to a close for  \neveryone, and Eric was all the more uncomfortable for it.\n\nThe logical and rational realization of his homosexuality continued to  \nhaunt him through the final years of middle school and into his freshman year in  \nhigh school. It was easy enough to avoid most uncomfortable social situations;  \nhe didn't have any friends to compare \"trophy\" stories with, and not having to  \nworry about advances from interested females made it even easier. Thankfully,  \nas far as he was concerned, no one was interested enough to make an advance  \non him, male or female.\n\nLife was torture for Eric in the locker room after PE, but it was just another  \nthing he had to live with; mixed emotions and uncomfortable thoughts washed  \naround within him. He did his best to mind himself, focusing all of his attention  \non getting dressed or undressed, but, invariably, due to curiosity or some  \nvoyeuristic tendency, Eric did make inconspicuous glances. The only one who  \never caught him was himself. Even though he had moments to deal with, Eric  \nwas able to set his homosexuality aside, and did his best to live what he thought  \nof as a \"neutral life\". For the most part Eric ignored his sexual orientation; it was  \npart of him but it did not define him.\n\nHe rested his head back against the tree trunk, gazing out among the  \ntrees and letting out another long sigh. Eric didn't have a problem with being  \ngay... no more than any other problem he had relating to people, but he certainly  \ndidn't need the extra heartache for supplying anyone with more ammo to use  \nagainst him, especially since they already had plenty. Teenagers had a knack  \nfor picking on the outsiders, loners, and \"weird kids\"... he didn't need to add in  \nbeing gay or he'd gain a whole new set of thugs interested in making his already  \napathetic life more of a living hell.\n\nEric rubbed his nose once, and slowly got to his feet again. The sky was  \ndarkening, and he accomplished his goal of wasting an hour before going home.  \nKeeping his eyes to the ground, Eric made his way deeper into the forested  \nsection of the park, intent on making his isolation last at least a little longer.  \nStepping off the commonly tread path, the young man made his way down  \ntowards a small gully, picking his steps carefully. He kneeled now and again,  \nsifting through a rock here or a stone there, looking around for any little  \ngeological wonders that called to him.\n\nThe young man dug around in the gully for a few moments, pausing to sift  \nthrough the dirt. Having found only two suitable rocks, Eric wanted at least one  \nmore before calling it a night especially since he still had his backpack and it  \nwould transport them well enough. He was about ready to give up before his  \neyes slowly meandered over something that warranted a second glance. At first  \nEric was ready to move on; the smooth surface resembling a glass bottle more  \nthan anything else-- but he did look again.\n\nLodged into the dirt was an oval-shaped crystalline mass. Eric moved  \nquickly, glancing around once then again to make sure he was the only person  \npresent. The young man began excavating the object, digging with hands for  \nmost of the procedure, switching to a long stick for prying when he neared  \ncompletion. Finally, with a lurch, the crystalline lump came free. Eric ran a hand  \nacross the flawless surface, smooth; unlike most crystals he'd seen or heard of.  \nIt was about the size of a football, and of roughly the same shape.\n\nEric rearranged the goods within his backpack, and slowly slid the heavy  \nobject into place, zipping up his pack again before glancing around one more  \ntime to make sure no one had seen; no one had. The young man stood up and  \ndonned his backpack. He whistled nonchalantly on his way out of the trees and  \nheaded straight for home, making it a point to take the long way around to avoid  \nfurther thoughts on the pride gathering... not that he could think of anything but  \nthe crystal at the moment even if he tried.\n\n\u0026nbsp; \\* \\* \\* \\* \\* \\*  \n  \nFor the fourth day in a row Eric made his way straight for home, neither  \nwasting time nor seeking distractions. For the better part of a week Eric had  \nbeen entranced with the new crystal in his collection. He kept it hidden safely  \nwithin his old toy chest, the one place in which his mother never bothered  \nsnooping. He had wrapped the item in pillows and spare blankets to make sure it  \ndidn't get scratched, or, more likely, scratch anything. The single piece of crystal  \nwas beyond anything he had imagined, and he couldn't even begin to guess a  \nprice on it... not that he was interested in selling the item.\n\nEric closed and locked the front door once he was inside and cleared the  \nstairs in record time. He went to his room at the end of the hall and closed his  \nbedroom door. Eric lost count on the number of times he had wished he had a  \nlock on his door but the wish echoed again in his mind. The young man went to  \nhis bookshelf and pulled down a textbook about geological formulations of  \ncrystalline masses. Most people would consider it a difficult read at best but Eric  \nwas determined to classify the item.\n\nThe book in total was well over 400 pages and lacked an index. Even with  \nthe table of contents, Eric had trouble figuring out where in the book to search for  \ninformation about oval-shaped crystals. The young man was forced to go  \nthrough the picture-less book page by page scanning for any words that might  \ndescribe the geological abnormality inside his toy chest. He had been managing  \nabout 50 pages a night, only reading those that held a few words that might lead  \nto an answer for his questions but his search had still come up empty; he had a  \nmystery on his hands.\n\nThe book went right back on the shelf the moment he heard the front door  \nopen; it was replaced on his desk by a AP microbiology book. Eric had always  \ndone well in school; most of his junior classes were of college level and his  \ngrades were one of the few things he took great pride in openly. His mother paid  \nonly enough attention to see that he wasn't failing in his high school education  \nand left the rest up to his teachers.\n\nHe didn't blame his mother for her ignorance of his life... in fact, he was  \nhappy to help perpetuate it. Eric did not like the woman his mother had become  \nafter his dad left, and he knew it was no more his job to fix her than it was his  \nresponsibility to be her crutch. As far as Eric was concerned they were two  \nseparate people with little-to-nothing in common simply living in the same  \nhouse... for the time being. Besides, he didn't want her doting all over him every  \nminute she was home.\n\nHe pulled a mechanical pencil out and tapped the eraser twice to ready  \nthe lead for note-taking and, right on cue, he heard the triple knock at his door.  \nAs usual, his mother entered without even a precursory pause. He didn't bother  \ngiving her 'the glare' this time since he was too distracted by what lay on the  \nrandom page in front of him. His attention wasn't divided this time; he was wholly  \nfocused on the book.\n\nEric ignored whatever his mom was talking at him about and simply stared  \nat the pages that lay within the chapter on abnormal unicellular organism  \nconditions. Whatever his mother had said went in one ear and out the other; Eric  \nwas staring at the picture of a single cellular organism undergoing a chrysalis.  \nHe contemplated the picture a moment, and looked to the caption, going over it  \nonce, then twice, and finally he looked at the actual words on the page,  \nabsorbing each one well after the time his mother walked out of his room,  \ncontinuing on whatever tangent she had chosen for the night.\n\nOnce he finally finished with the chapter, Eric set the book aside and went  \nover to his toy box. The book had mentioned singular celled organisms growing  \na thick crystalline shell as a cocoon of sorts when exposed to adverse conditions.  \nSupposedly some organisms were capable of existing almost indefinitely within  \ntheir confines until the surrounding environment became more suitable. Eric  \nunlatched the lid and began moving aside some of the pillows and blankets he  \nhad placed atop the crystal.\n\nHe gently removed the crystal from the 'nest' of linens, feeling its heft and  \nslowly turning it over in his hands. The young man held it for many long  \nmoments contemplating its purpose and the possibility of the book offering  \ninsight into the object. Eric's only conclusion was that he would either have to  \nchip off some of the crystal for study or let it be and watch. Having spent the last  \nseveral days doing the latter, he decided he'd have to get a chisel... and be very  \ncareful.\n\nIt was two hours, three chisels, and a hammer later that Eric realized that  \nthings wouldn't be simple. He set the crystal back into the toy box and let out a  \ndeep breath. As the young man headed down the stairs his mother called him  \ninto the kitchen, announcing dinner was on the table. Eric took a seat and didn't  \nmeet her gaze, staring into the meatloaf and greens on his plate instead.\n\n\"So what was all the banging about?\" she inquired.\n\n\"Nothing.\" Eric responded, starting on his mashed potatoes.\n\n\"If I go into your room will there be holes in the walls?\" his mother inquired  \nlooking at him, hand still on her empty fork.\n\n\"No.\" he responded, taking in a spoonful of the over-buttered goo, \"no  \nholes.\"\n\nHer fork remained empty, \"Eric... I want you to go with me to my next  \nsession.\"\n\nEric put his fork down and looked up. He didn't respond.\n\n\"With Doctor Marlow... it's tomorrow night.\" she elaborated.\n\nHe took a drink of water to give himself time to think. His mind was a blur  \nwith possible responses, retorts, counters, denials, or excuses, all being pushed  \naside by the continuing nagging of the enigma that was the crystal in his toy box,  \n\"Okay.\" he spoke all too quickly as he set the glass down. Eric winced inwardly  \nat his self betrayal. _Kill me now, God... just kill me now_.  \n\u0026nbsp;\n\n  \n  \n\n"}