Monday, March 10, 2014

Sam excerpt

Robert Kenway was surprisingly arrogant for a person who had been born with no natural abilities whatsoever. His only talent seemed to be making friends and convincing them that he was good at everything, when in reality, he was almost entirely average. His being fairly exuded normality. Somehow, based on everything I’d accumulated from my various therapists, I had surmised that this aura of blandness must have been what drew me to him. After the instability, uniqueness, and chaos of my childhood, I subsequently longed for anything ordinary. And next to the Fields, Robert Kenway was about the best friend I had in the United States.
“Hey man,” Robert said stoically as I joined him on the sidewalk that lead towards Canyon High.
“Morning,” I replied.
“How was your weekend?” Robert hurried to catch up to me, his quick, darting, football player gait sending him tripping alongside me in no time. He was quick, but I had the advantage with much longer legs, and an evenness in my step that made me practically uncatchable at a flat out run. But for me running was necessary only in the event that one was being pursued by something too dangerous to outwit. In other words, I was lazy, but at least I knew it. 
“Alright,” I answered honestly. I couldn’t quite decide how my weekend had been what with all this newfound guilt. Guilt was unpleasant, but not unbearable. “Yours?” I reciprocated politely. Then I prepared myself to be bored. Robert never had anything interesting to say, for all of his comments were usually geared towards techniques for impressing “chicks,” as he sexistly referred to girls, and every one of his ideas was so pathetically misguided that he made for a rather pedestrian conversationalist, even in that subject, on which he considered himself an expert.
“Awful,” He said. For the first time that morning I slipped from beneath the surface of my own thoughts and actually heard him speak, so unexpected was this statement. Robert hadn’t had a bad weekend since I had known him. Normally, he was anxious to tell me all about the parties he had attended or the football games he had helped win.
“Why?”I asked, genuinely concerned. As a rule, I was fond of Robert, for though I disagreed with him in worldview, we shared a common congeniality that would be hard to replace. After all, I was shy, and most of the Canyon High kids were crass and uninteresting even compared to Robert.
“Just stuff,” He said, exhibiting another abrupt shift in character. Robert never kept secrets.
“You alright?” I asked, picking up on the subtle hint of pleading in his aloofness. He wanted me to ask again, though why he didn’t just tell me, I couldn’t understand.
“No, but it’s fine. You wouldn’t care about it anyway.” He said brusquely. I said nothing. We walked on in silence until he sighed violently.
“Are you sure it’s nothing?” I said. Now it was patently obvious that he wanted to tell me, and I had no objections to listening. “You seem a bit low this morning.” I added, for extra encouragement.
“Gee, you think?” Robert snapped rather crossly, surprising me again. I had thought that I was being quite friendly. I wasn’t used to friends. Peeved myself, I kept quiet, and he seemed disappointed.
“Sorry,” He said glumly.
“No, don’t, it’s nothing.” I replied, waving a hand. “What is the matter though?”
“It’s silly.”
“Not as silly as refusing to tell me what it is.” I said drily.
“Coach cut me from the soccer team.” He sighed again, dramatically.
“That’s because you’re a rotten football player.”
Robert glared at me. “Thanks a lot for the support.”
“Well it’s true.”
“And I’m sure you could do better.” He laughed sarcastically.
“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever actually played football.”
“Soccer. It’s called soccer here, Prince William.” He rolled his eyes. I smiled.
“Well, soccer then. I’ll try it today if you want.”
“Fine with me.”

At that point we had reached the front doors and piled into the hallway with the rest of the students. I sighed. School was dull. Everything was, in fact. But I had the prospect of football to look forward to during lunch. And that was something.  

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