The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities to anyone or place are purely coincidental. The story is intended for a mature audience. It may contain profanity and references to gay sex between teenage characters. If this offends you, please leave and find something more suitable to read. The author maintains all rights to the story. Do not copy or use without written permission. To comment on the story write to Draive at draivelonelyheart This is Draive's first time writing, so please keep negative comments to yourself. Other than that, enjoy the story.
Lonely
Chapter 1
There were shouts and laughter as they pushed and shoved. Books, pens, papers and the rest of the bag's contents flew in all directions.
"Hey Fag..."
Okay... Pause. That human kickball is me... Alexander James Thompson aka AJ... And this is yet another wonderful day in my life – yay me. The Neanderthals pushing me around are prime examples of your "typical jocks", the so called kings of high school.
Well I guess you'll probably want to know a little bit about me. Well to be honest I'm just your average teen, I'm sixteen, sort of a loner, I mean it is not like I do not want to make friends but I'm sort of a target and kids avoid the target, guess they think "rather him than me". I don't blame them, hell I wouldn't want to be friends with me either, ah funny, but I digress. So I'm a freshman at Hilton College and almost every day starts off similar to this one, unless I'm really lucky, which I'm not, well at least not very often. See I have a theory... Let me explain... I'm not very tall about five foot five, my mouse brown hair is cut A-symmetrically, my fringe generally hangs over the left side of my face, I have hazel eyes and I wouldn't say I'm a great big flamer but I am a sensitive soul. I'm also kind of on the skinny side but not too bad though, started track to get in shape, because the lord knows I need to be able to run so I can stay alive. I'm more a book worm than a sports fanatic, actually I think I'd rather poke a spoon in my eye than do an actual sport and I don't really consider track a sport, more a way to extend my life expectancy. I digress... again. So back to my theory, these delightful qualities that were bestowed upon me, seem to have painted a great big target on my face and apparently it says: please make my life difficult, I like it.
I guess I can be grateful, they usually just push me around, call me names or toss me in the dumpster. Funny hey, "yes thank you for that I really enjoy smelling like week-old-cabbage", such a pleasant aroma. But hey it could be worse, they've never beaten the snot out of me or anything like that, well not yet anyway. Yes... I know it is a little pessimistic but hey, wouldn't you be? So after another riveting day at school, learning and playing whack the queer, I board the bus and have a delightful voyage home, not really but hey, seems I have a tendency towards digression. I walk in grab a soda and collapse onto the sofa, ah serenity.
Then there is a shrill screeching that shatters my tranquil musings.
"Sunshine I'm home!"
That's my aunt, my mother's sister, she has wild curly red hair that is always crazily pointing in all directions. She's a little on the plump side but a more loving person you will never find, that and she's all I have. My parents died when I was really young and she never had kids of her own, so when it came down to deciding who would be blessed with the burden of me, she took me in. She's been great, we are really close, she's my friend and surrogate mother wrapped in one, yet she's never tried to replace my parents. She tells me stories of them, she always gets a little teary, sometimes it makes me feel like I was missing out, but then I remember I have her. She's an English professor at the university, it's a few miles out of town. We are comfortable, I mean we don't live a grandiose and extravagant life, but we manage. My parents left me everything, wasn't much but at least their house is still mine, when my aunt became my guardian she refused to let anyone sell it. Oh and Sunshine is her sickeningly cutsie nickname for me, that she insists on using, even in public. She finds it apt because of my sunny disposition... yeah right, I mean I could bum out the boogieman.