When self-proclaimed master prankster and film geek, Steven Parker, entered his junior year, he intended to get through it unscathed and under the radar.
What he didn't expect, however, was for one harmless prank he pulled in hopes of impressing the golden girl, Tricia Matthews, to blow up in his face and turn his world upside down.
In a blink of an eye, his Superman boxers made him the joke of the Internet. His best friend, Stella Martin, has ditched him for a taller, richer guy who can recite the entirety of "Back to the Future" in a British accent. His dad has moved in with a younger, tree-hugging woman, and his mom won't stop smiling.
Suddenly, women are chasing him left and right, and internet fame has landed him a ticket from playing videos games to forming dangerous liaisons with the crowd he vowed never to conform to.
As lifelong friendships crumble and romance blooms, will Steven realize what's been standing right in front of him all along?
Copyright © 2012-2018. 4EverAChocoholic
It looked just how I remembered it, seven years ago.
The tall, fern tree that shaded me from the impromptu bursts of sunlight that attacked beneath the clouds. The aroma of sweet nectar blessing the bumbling bees and hummingbirds in an endless field of uncut grass. The rough texture of the humongous sedimentary rocks that scratched against my leg as I would gleefully hop over to the furthest peak until I could practically touch the gentle waves of the lake-shore.
I steadied the shiny, black metal on the wooden picnic table and shook out my untidy brown locks before sitting down. A tickle formed in the base of my throat, and I broke out in a fit of coughs.
Raising my hand as if I was a member of Alcohol's Anonymous, I willed myself to speak.
Her trembling shoulders flashed in front of me, her puffy eyes brimming with pools of regret that threatened to crash down like a tidal wave. No, it wasn't regret.
My fingers tightened as they curved around the edge of the table, pricking a loose screw. I winced, trying to fight the burning rush of the blood rolling down my finger like the slithering of a slippery eel. Not once did I break my concentration.
The corners of my lips parted, then closed when I pictured her bleak, distant stare.
Why was this so tough?
"I'm Steven Parker, and I'm a douche-bag."
My eyebrows raised in amusement at my own statement. It was the first thing that popped into my mind. Almost instantly, the overwhelming tension in my shoulders eased. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be.
"I'm a douche-bag, and I'm proud of it."
The rustling of a tree branch startled me. I jerked my head back, darting my eyes back and forth like a ping pong ball until it landed on a hefty figure taking up most of the fern tree's shade. The squirrel chirped in delight – could squirrels even chirp – as its nimble paws proudly held an acorn on top of its head.
The squirrel reared its head my way, but not before shoving the acorn into its mouth. Beady, black eyes peered at me intensely with swollen cheeks the size of a watermelon.
I wasn't about to lose this stare down, no, not today.
As I stared back at the squirrel, I could feel my eyes watering. Its stare was unnerving; it was burning a hole through the back of my head!
I blinked, and the squirrel swallowed the acorn whole before scampering up the tree. Its eyes were glistening.
A fat fucking squirrel was mocking me.
I focused my attention back to the picnic table.
"You don't find douches often as most people are stuck between the typical assholes and bitches, but sometimes you'll find the odd pair lurking in between your unwashed underwear."
"This isn't the story of how I became a viral sensation. Or how I ended up kissing my best friend – a girl, mind you, when she already had a guy of her own. Or how I willingly allowed myself to get punched in the crotch in my quest to steal 'rhymes with propane' so my crush could give me the time of day."
I shook my head remorsefully.
"Or even how I went from the dorky class clown, to someone as popular as the football jocks, to a jerk hated by the entire school."
My hand clasped my chin, pretending to stroke my imaginary goatee.
"Well, not quite the entire school. I had my trusty paper bag to behind, with the infamous 'douche-bag' written on it. I'm sure you've seen this floating around the internet."
I slapped the wrinkled paper bag on my head, shielding my vision of the grassy field around me. The eye holes were positioned a bit too low to see out of.
"And only then would Frankie Burton let me sit next to him, yes, the same Frankie Burton who'd spend his lunch hours digging up leftover garbage from the cafeteria to save as an afternoon snack. All while slipping ice cubes down people's shirts! And I don't mean any old ice cubes; I'm talking about ones that he put in his mouth first! Gross." My breathing shortened as I rushed over my words.
Realizing that I was probably going to die of suffocation from a paper bag, I hastily ripped the flimsy material off my head.
"Look, there is a moral to my story. And I realize that I'm not making any sense, so perhaps I should start this story from the beginning."
My eyes flickered to the camera lens in front of me.
It all started with a pair of Superman boxers...
A.N. Hey you! Thanks for clicking on my story. I've been writing this story on and off for the past five years, and much of these characters are near and dear to my heart. The first 25 chapters have been posted on Wattpad, so if you don't want to wait weekly for an update, free feel to hop over there and check it out. It's the same title and username.
Overall, this story is intended to be light-hearted and humorous coming of age story, but as the plot reaches its climax, it will become a lot more emotional and heartbreaking.
Please keep in mind that this story is not finished yet.
After the initial prewritten chapters have been published, updates may be few and far in between. That said, I hope you all will join me in Steven's journey as he navigates through the tribulations of adolescence.