Chapter One

In Which Travis Meets Sophie

Alcohol erased it, but it didn't clean the puke from her flowers.

A / D / D / I / C / T / I / O / N

I remember it clearly; the first time I realized how much of a piece of fuck I really was.

Harsh words, but they ring true- this I promise you. At seventeen, my life experience was more of that of a thirty year old. A person of addiction, I had my vices. Cigarettes, alcohol, sex,…and Maria. Maria was in my blood. She was better than any drug I had ever tried, and I found I didn’t need them in her presence. She was my everything. All the things I’d dealt with, all the problems I had…Maria had been there, smiling so purely at me. We were not the stereotypical couple.

Maria and I were both prominent members of the ‘in crowd’ but that is were our similarities stopped.

She was blonde and tiny, with large breast and a small waist. A cheerleader and a member of the student council- she was every stereotype you could conceive. She dumbed herself down, she pretended to be miss perfect. It was a good façade; but I eventually saw through it. My Maria had one hell of a temper and a nasty flare for causing trouble among our so called friends.

I was much different; your run of the mile fuck up. I succumbed to my desires without a battle, cared only for myself and listened to music that I founded stashed in my family’s basement. I had a few piercing, a tattoo, and I didn’t do much at school but catch up on sleep and nurse hang over’s. I didn’t care what people thought of me, and came off as an awful person. The typical ‘bad boy’, the inner circle accepted me because I was their entertainment.

They fed off Drama as if it was the only thing sustaining their existence. I didn’t blame them for it although I could not find the appeal. After all, Maria was my equivalent. They couldn’t help their need for excitement as I couldn’t help my need for something better than me.

It was on the floor of said family’s basement that it dawned on me. Maria had left me. Some girls said I had been fooling around with them but of course I hadn’t, I had done everything for my girl. I’d given up my band t-shirts and actually attended school. Something that may seem small- but I am selfish by nature and to me, they were important.

I made friends with hers, and become quite popular. I couldn’t understand why they would say I‘d fucked them, I lacked any appeal. Attractive; I suppose. I was tall and not too skinny. My chest was firm and my arms muscular. My face held defined features, and my eyes were something of oddity. One bright blue, and the other a darker, grayish blue. I dressed nicely, but I didn’t see what was so special about that. Others did, and I could never figure out why.

So Maria had come to window of my underground hangout, knocked angrily, and shoved two notes in my face. One from her to me; the other to her from these girls. It was clear it was over. She trotted back to her home- right next to mine- and jumped in the car with a few of our female acquaintances. My phone had been ringing off the hook as word spread of the ‘terrible betrayal’ and I was slowly becoming an enemy. They were either going to chew me out or try to get my side of the story. None of this bothered me.

I’d lost my reason for existence.

Maria was gone, and with that any drive to go on.

I had gotten too obsessed with the Goddess. I’d craved her smiles, laughs, movements. I’d never smell that horribly strong perfume she’d spray when I’d take her out. I’d never taste that disgusting lip gloss again, or feel her bare against me. The Maria had made it clear; I was being kicked out. She was the queen of everything, and she’d decided to crush my reputation. Push me from the circle, chase me away. I had crossed her. Maria had never loved me. She said so of course, cooed and sighed at me. But it was misplaced affection because Maria only loved what I represented. I always knew this.

Once her idea of me was shattered, so were her affections.

Turns out, I was no prince charming.

Only another statistic. Broken hearted boy, with so many personal issues. So I dealt with it in such a way I only knew how; I temporally replaced her with alcohol. The music played; a Punk song from the 70’s. My personal favorite era of music.

It did nothing for me, as I took another sip from the green-tinted bottle. There were a lot of them scattered about me. I’m not sure how much I had already consumed. Not enough. Her face was still there.

Taunting me.

After a while it took it’s effect on me, and I stumbled as I stood. I couldn’t sit there any longer, I was bored. Deciding it was a marvelous idea- I crawled up the steps, and out my door. Bare foot and so drunk I could feel myself getting sick…I staggered over to The Maria’s house. Clearly, she’d see me so pitifully drunk and ashamed the angel would have to let me in.

She still cared…I knew she did. I needed her to.

Banging franticly on her window, I wondered if she had even come home. Or possibly the once-mine Maria was out with another, finding comfort in his arms. I didn’t have a plan, I simply was acting on impulse. Said pulse quickened with the window was jerked open.

She knew it was me. Who else would it be? She even opened the window without looking through the shades. A smile played on her perfect lips and her eyes sparkled.

Since when did she have black hair?

Those perfect lips frowned deeply at me, and I wondered why my angel had dyed her platinum blonde locks.

“Got the alcohol?”

Or why she had curled it.

“What the fuck? You aren’t Peter.” My angel said in a voice that wasn’t her’s.

“Babe, it’s me.” I meant to say, although this wasn’t what came out. It sounded more like ‘abe, et meh’. The imposter looked me up and down, her eyes scanning me with help from the light coming from the room. It was than it dawned on me. This wasn’t Maria. I had gone to the wrong house. Maria lived on the right; I went to the left.

“Oh dear lord, is that Travis Abendroth?”

Someone from inside this girls room hollered, in what I understood as amusement. The girl was looking at me with wide eyes, and behind her a smoke filled room was laughing almost cynically.

I was not at Maria’s window, but the younger daughter of the Egger’s. And, she was having some sort of party. As I could manage to recall, she was a freshman…so why in the world did she have all of those older, dark-dressed people in her room? She was just a kid after all.

The young Egger (her name I could not recall) followed my gaze. Apparently, when your drunk off your ass, you don’t hide you shock as well. Just an interesting fact I thought I should share.

“Can I help you, Travis?” She asked with animosity lacing her tone.

What had I done, but knock?

All of a sudden the puking urge came back with a roar vengeance. Eyes-wide, the poor kid watched as I heaved chunks right in the flowers outside her window.

Lovely.

I wasn’t sure how precisely she had taken it, but it wasn’t with a smile. I didn’t see the reaction, but I knew. Because the window was slammed shut, the music turned up, and the shades closed. Obviously she didn’t appreciate the body’s natural defense against alcohol poisoning.

If I had been more sober, I’d wonder why at eleven o’clock at night she was drinking, smoking, and playing heavy metal and her parents didn’t appear to have a problem with it. And what a normal freshman had any business doing it.

But I was shit-faced wasted, so I went home, threw up some more, and crawled into bed- already forgetting her face.

A / D / D / I / C / T / I / O / N

I sighed into my large mug; twirling around the coffee my father had managed to fuck up. At the moment I didn’t truly care- it had been approximately seven days and three hours since that fateful night The Maria ripped apart my sanity. To say I wasn’t fairing well was an understatement that almost made me laugh. I didn’t, because no one had dared say such things to my face. My attitude wasn’t the best; and while I was known to be have my moods I was also known to come off as a generally cheerful person.

Not to actually say I was; it’s all high school politics you see. While I didn’t worry what people’s outlook of me was- the trick was not to draw awareness to yourself. Let it come to you. It’s the key to popularity, you see.

I had went on a drinking binge, consuming even more than normal. So much so that my Father even noticed that the missing alcohol had been drank by yours truly. On a normal basis he didn’t take notice to such things, his father simply assumed he’d drank it and forgot.

My father was a functioning alcoholic; meaning he went to work and we had those lame family cook outs without a fuss. But on a normal day, he’d come home and go to his fridge, filled to the brim with his cheap booze. He was not a bad father; although his temper was as bad as The Maria’s.

He was amazing in comparison to my mother; she had her own issues that were even vague to me now. She had a reliance on these pills she had once gotten after surgery. I was smart enough never to try such things like that; no my booze, cigarettes, and sex were plenty. As such, I never really knew what the hell she took. She was far from functioning; but my mother occasionally managed for previously mentions family cook outs.

My mother had always been something of a beauty; and she had aged extremely well. However, her dilemma was the one that brought much nuisance into my otherwise happy home. Although it happened when I was young, I think it was what triggered my father’s drinking.

All in all considering, we didn’t have many problems. My father and I got a long well, and my mother didn’t often bother me. Unconventional, but comfortable. I doubt this was why I enjoyed the things I did; but it was easier to do such things in my circumstances.

Surprisingly, my Father had only barked out a laugh when he put two and two together. “Getting over her, eh?” He inquired with a beam. I did not see the humor in it but, it got me out of trouble right?

I frowned. That was too convenient. Good things did not happen to me. To escape the punishment of being caught with my father’s precious alcohol was almost unheard of. I had not seen the neighbor kid, although I only vaguely recalled what had occurred. I knew I went to her window and she slammed it on me. After that, I could only remember throwing up in the toilet.

Concentrating did little for me so I took a sip from my mug. With nothing else to look at, I stared out my tiny kitchen window. No facial expression gracing my features. Anyway, she had not approached me, nor had it been mentioned so I could only assume she had not said anything.

I was relieved; it was not something Travis Abendroth was proud of. I had yet to see The Maria although I had heard from her. Her hanging up on me, and yelling through the receiver. Disturbed by the familiar ring of the door bell, I did not have to answer it to know who it was. Such was the laws of irony. I would say Speak of The Devil and He Will Come, but that would simply be too cliché.

After a few rings, my father raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged in reply, and he went to the door. Never taking my eyes from my pretty little window, she appeared beside me.

I had pondered what I would do when she faced me again, but I couldn’t really do anything. After numerous drunken calls, shouting matches, and one door slammed on my less-than-sober ass, I didn’t have much to say to her. I was far from over her, but no words formed.

The relationship was over.

She sealed the feelings by dropping a plastic bag on the table. I could feel her hostility but could not bring myself to react. Inside, I was strangely blank. It would not last, but I could keep it up until she left.

As long as I did not allow myself to think her name.

“Where are my things, Travis?” She demanded more than asked. As if I was supposed to prepare them for her. I was not her boyfriend, such things were no longer required of me.

Apparently displeased with my lack of reaction, her small hands cupped into fist, rigged at her side.

“You are an asshole! Everyone was right.” She exclaimed, her perfect teeth clinched.

I took a sip of my coffee.

She stormed out, her face twisted in disgust at my lack of caring.

In response, my defense crumbled. I jumped from my sit, intent on catching up to The Maria, and spilling my guts out- sober. Unfortunately, her legendary temper was on her side- as she was gone out the door before I made it out of the kitchen. Rushing forward, I leaped over my couch. If I ran, I could make it before I was forced to knock on her door.

My blood pumping, I made for the knob, and flung it open, pushing the screen forward. Pushed it into a girl, and I realized with horror, I must of hit the back of The Maria in my hast. However, laying back against the pavement was not the love of my life. Petite and sporting the stunning dark hair that belonged to only one person…

The Egger’s daughter.

The screen screeched back and forth on it’s hinges for a few moments, before it closed again, breating a barrier between us.

Groaning, she rubbed her forehead with mirth. She stood, dusted herself off, and faced my gapping face. Egger’s hands were on her waist and suddenly she didn’t seem like such a child. Her eyes held years and screamed enragement. Women and I were certainly not getting along as of late.

“Do you make it a point to do as much as possible to piss people off, or what?!” The fifteen year old hissed. I stared in disbelief at her. Why had she come?

“It was an accident.” I managed to mumble.

“And throwing up in my garden? What was that?”

Uh oh.

A / D / D / I / C / T / I / O / N

Hmm. A nice start, I suppose. Travis and Sophia are so different; she so sure of herself and I hope even in reading this you realize that Travis doesn’t know himself as much as he thinks. Ooh, what shall happen? I’d like to think Less Than Jake for helping me get into the mind of the alcoholic broken hearted Travis. Listening to their music made it easier to write some one as…complex as he. Please if you read this; leave a review. I like to know how I am doing. It’s the first time I’ve really attempted First Person writing.

Written in ten point, Times New Roman. Five pages long in Microsoft Word Processor.