Chapter 4: My Life Is Suck

Blearily I silence the alarm clock, dragging myself out of my bed and out of my sheets. Fumbling around in the semi-darkness, I find the rope that’s attached to my curtains, heaving on it and letting the bright morning sunlight spill into my room.

Great… another bright sunny day.

Ugh. Another school day.

I hit the off switch on the remote for the air conditioning and lurch towards the bathroom, stripping off the singlet I slept in as I walk towards it, throwing it into a clothesbasket right inside my bathroom.

Inside the bathroom I get into the shower, letting the water flow all over me, coaxing the sleep out of each muscle, all the while working the shampoo and conditioner and soap for all they are worth, making sure I’m spotless for the day ahead. I step out, wrapping a towel around me and check myself on a full length mirror I have positioned on the inside door. I’ll be the first to admit that I have a lot of mirrors in my room – I guess I could admit even to being a BIT vain. I smirk at my reflection in the mirror, noting my mussed up hair and my lean body. No six pack… but I can see that my stomach is getting there, I’ll just need to put in a few extra hours at the pool. But regardless of that fact… I’m still a sexy demon.

Hell, I’d do myself.

Hmmm… that wasn’t quite an appropriate thought.

Wait a minute. I notice something slightly off color about my face, and I lean closer to get a better look. Oh. HELL no. Oh well… let’s not panic… I always keep a small tube of concealer for emergencies such as this. Plus, the offending pimple – a mar on my otherwise perfect features, isn’t as large as a few I’ve had to deal with in the past… with some concealer I’ll be just peachy.

I shuffle through the shelf behind the bathroom mirror. Then I shuffle through the stack of hair products and combs in the other shelf behind me. Panicking slightly, I run back into my room and sort through the cabinets, hoping my concealer may have fallen in among my school supplies. Not finding it there, I run to my closet, throwing it open and looking in every possible area that my small tube of salvation could have fallen to. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

HELL no.

“Devon! What’s up? Why haven’t you come down to breakfast? You’re going to be late!” shouts Pops from outside of my room. “Right. No answer? I’m coming in.”

As the door to my room swings open I kick my bathroom door shut, locking myself in the bathroom just as I catch sight of my father coming into my room.

“Devon?” he says, knocking on my bathroom door.

“I’m not going to school today.” I announce, and from the other side of my bathroom door there’s a short pause and a quick attempt at turning the door knob.

“Devon, whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s hideous! It’s all… pus filled and red and… and… angry!”

“Devon, don’t you have a tube of concealer or something?”

I retreat into a corner of the bathroom, prepared to spend the rest of my day there. “I can’t find it… I think I left it in China.”

“Can’t you just go for one day without it?”

“What?! Are you kidding?! I can’t go to school like this!”

“Devon… ah shit. Blake!” yells Pops. “Blake! I need a bit of assistance here with your son!” Whenever Pops calls me Dad’s son my Dad automatically knows something is wrong and comes prepared for the worst. “C’mon Devon… this is silly. You’re 16, you are quite old enough to take this in a mature fashion. Stop pulling a drama queen on us please… we already have your Dad for that.”

From the other side of the door I hear Dad’s voice. “Yeah babe? What’s up?”

“Your son can’t find his concealer… you don’t by chance have a tube on you or something do you?”

I hear Dad snicker. Neither of my parents can fully appreciate the importance of absolutely flawless skin. Neither of them are hormonal teenagers that can’t help growing pimples, even if said hormonal teenager spends ages each day washing his face. I blame the heat, damn Parsimony. Damn Florida.

I yell at my parents on the other side of the locked door. “What’s the point of having gay parents if NEITHER of them even has a tube of concealer!”

“Can’t you just… I dunno… cover it with a hairstyle?”

“It’s on my damn NOSE.”

“Ah. Well Blake, any ideas?”

Dad starts speaking to me in calm tones. “Hey champ? You need to go to school. I’m sure no one will notice – having pimples is a normal part of being a teenager.”

I remain quiet.

“Well, I tried.”

There’s suddenly another voice in the room on the other side of the bathroom door. “Mr. Lee? Mr. Edwards? Where is Devon? I was supposed to ride with him to school today, my car needs a tune up, and the maid told me you guys were all upstairs.”

Oh shit. I forgot about the bull-dyke-dozer.

“Oh hi Erika… um… Devon is kind of having a… crisis.”

“A crisis?”

Dad sighs. “You wouldn’t happen to have any concealer on you at the moment would you?” Fat chance of that, Erika hardly ever wears makeup – plus it isn’t fair, she seems to always have flawless skin anyways!

“Er… Would you mind if I have a minute alone with Devon? I think I could reason with him.” She asks my parents sweetly, and I can practically hear my fathers agreeing. There’s a click as my bedroom door closes.

There’s a short pause before Erika says what’s on her mind.

“DEVON! YOU BETTER FUCKING COME OUT HERE NOW BEFORE YOUR BITCH ASS MAKES ME LATE FOR CLASS! DON’T MAKE ME BREAK DOWN THIS DOOR AND RIP YOUR BALLS OFF TO USE AS A HOOD ORNAMENT! BECAUSE I SWEAR I’LL DO IT!”

It’s really hard to debate against Erika when she speaks her mind. I open the door a slight inch and I see her standing there, hands crossed over her chest and glaring at me. What can I say about Erika? She has light blonde hair that is shorter than shoulder length which she spikes diagonally downwards, which she usually matches with a T shirt (which varies between a goth/emo style with tassels and chains to brightly colored blouses.) Today she’s wearing a lacy pink blouse and a short black skirt which shows off her toned legs that she gets from playing a lot of sports. Oh, and she’s wearing army boots. Huge army boots. Don’t ask why… but it takes a certain person to pull of a fashion look like Erika’s. Luckily she IS that type of person.

Taking advantage of the small crack in the door, Erika slams it open, coming into the bathroom and practically dragging me along the bathroom floor towards my room. The fact that I was almost completely naked did not make this scene any more comfortable.

“Alright! Alright! I’ll go! I’ll go! At least let me get dressed! I’ll call Vincent and see if he’ll meet us in the parking lot to lend me some of his concealer…”

“You have 5 minutes! If you aren’t ready in 5 minutes I’m taking your car keys and driving your gay green car to school and leaving you here!” I cringe at the thought, knowing how badly Erika treats her car, and not wanting the same fate to befall mine.

“Er…” I say, looking at her. “You mind going outside as I get dressed?”

She chuckles. “It’s not like your skinny ass is turning me on any time soon Devon. But fine. Remember. Five. Minutes.” She opens my bedroom door and smiles sweetly to my parents, who are trying not to laugh their heads off outside my room. “I’ll wait downstairs if you don’t mind Mr. Edwards and Mr. Lee. Do you mind if I take a muffin? They looked absolutely delicious.”

----

Dear Emo Turtle,

There’s this girl I like. And yeah, I know it’s probably not your cup of tea but what the hell I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask you for advice. She’s in my Higher Level Literature class, is really pretty and smart, and I’m pretty sure she knows I exist, but she probably thinks I’m not very intelligent or something – I’m just really not fantastic at Literature. Perhaps you could give me some advice as to how I can impress her?

Signed, In-A-Pickle.

----

“Hey Devon!”

I pull myself away from maniacally inspecting my angry red face-passenger to glimpse Michelle walking up to my locker. She’s wearing the gorgeous light green dress I helped her pick out the other day and is absolutely looking head-turningly gorgeous.

Keith, who is standing beside me, and who today is wearing a rainbow beret to match a tie-dye outfit, gives out a wolf whistle.

“Honey, you’re looking hot!” he yells out to Michelle.

Michelle comes up to both of us, giving Keith a smile. “Oh, thanks so much! Devon helped pick this dress out for me. You’re… Keith right? Devon has told me about you.”

Keith raises an eyebrow and gives me a look. “Oh really? Good things I hope?”

“Don't count on it.” I answer, smiling.

“Love you too.” Keith answers back, giving me a sardonic smile. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have an audition to attend. Toodles!” He gives a wave of his fingers before disappearing around the corner.

“Quite the character.” Michelle says to me.

“Y... yeah.”

“So Devon, I was wondering why you have yet to give me a reply for this week’s advice column letters! You do know I need them in a few hours time right or I’ll have no choice but to personally stalk you.”

I considered allowing Michelle to stalk me… Like a tiger. A sexy tiger… with leopard print underwear… but thought better of it.

“Sorry Michelle… it’s this last letter…”

“The one about relationship advice?”

I pause, surprised she guessed which letter I was referring to. “Yeah… how did you know?”

“Don’t sweat it too much Devon… the relationship advice letters have traditionally always been the hardest to answer. Just give your honest opinion as to what should be done about it and it’ll all be good. You aren’t even held responsible anyways as to what will happen.”

“So I can’t just skip it then?” I plead.

“No. Plus, I want whoever this In-A-Pickle person to do something dramatic in my higher level Literature class for that chick of his. Make sure you write something that makes him do something silly during the class ok? It’ll really make my day.”

I smile weakly. How could I possibly say no to her?

Even worse… how am I cut out to give relationship advice to someone when I myself can’t even tell Michelle that I’m straight and have the total hots for her?

My life is difficult.

----

Dear In A Pickle,

I’m honestly not a good person to ask for relationship advice. What can I truly say except that you should be yourself. There isn’t anything more you can do. Be honest and just tell that girl the truth. Ask her out or something… a small gift helps.

Best wishes, The Emo Turtle.

---

If In-A-Pickle can do it, so can I.

I lean against a railing outside the higher level literature class that Michelle is in, trying to psyche myself up. The plan is to talk to Michelle after her class and explain the huge misunderstanding about people thinking I’m gay. After that, if things go well, I’m going to ask her to go for some coffee… or a movie… or… something. I’m going to wing it.

The door opens up and I take a deep breath.

Michelle steps out, and she’s talking and laughing with someone. I think that’s Brody… the one that Keith was talking about the other day. She spots me and waves, making her way through the exodus of students towards me.

“Oh my God Devon! You’ll never guess what!”

“What?” I ask, preparing what I have to say next.

“Brody just asked me out! Apparently, he is the one who sent that letter in!”

What? Oh… crap.

Brody walks up to us and Michelle turns to greet him.

“Brody, I want you to meet someone!” She indicates me. “This is Devon, and… I’m not really supposed to say but he’s actually the emo turtle, our advice columnist. You know… the one who got you to ask me out!”

Brody smiles widely and extends a hand and I smile weakly back and shake his hand. I notice that he’s wearing a tight top and his muscles are far more superior than… oh say… mine.

“Thanks so much dude.” He says. “Without your advice thing I probably would never have asked Michelle out for a date. You’re totally awesome.”

Salt. Wounds. Pain.

“So why are you out here waiting for me Devon? Did you need something?” Michelle asks me, smiling widely.

I give her a forced smile. “No, no. It’s nothing. I’m glad for you Michelle. You… you totally deserve this.”

“Thanks Devon! You’re such a good friend.”

My life is soooo difficult.

Exams are coming up and it's time for me to procrastinate more! And since playing videogames merely makes me feel guilty, updating stories seems to be the best procrastination option. I'll have to put and end to this... and hopefully the next time I update it'll be after my exams and during my break :D

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this update:)