Chapter 1 ~ Travis

                                    

                                          
Chapter 1 
                          
  I woke up to the sound of my alarm screeching and the sun streaming in through the windows. As I turn the lever on the shower, I sigh. I hear my dad slamming the cabinet doors in the kitchen downstairs, another Monday morning. When I get downstairs, he's already gone. I guess I'll be walking to school. 
                          
  The morning goes by uneventfully. Math, Gym, English and then lunch. As I walk into the cafeteria, my eyes instinctively search for his distinct blue hair and pink and white prosthetic. As always, he's seated with Larry Jhonson, and Chug Cohan. I catch myself staring and quickly look away. 
                          
As I'm making my way from the cafeteria to my next class, I run, literally run, into Sal FIsher and my heart cringes. 
                          
  "Watch where you're going, freak!" I snap. Maybe it was just the mask, but I could've sworn he was trying to match my gaze. My stomach fills with butterflies and I think I'm going to lose my bologna sandwich. 
                          
  I shove past him and grunt. He keeps walking, but I have to take a minute to calm myself down. This isn't right! I shouldn't feel this way, not about another man but at the same time, his eyes seem to stare into my soul. Trying to know me, not the me I pretend to be for my father but the me I am when my favorite song comes on;the me I am when I'm alone. The me that wants to crawl into his arms so he can hold me as if I were a small child. 
                          
  I wish to stay in this fantasy of us. But I'm sadly brought back to reality by the sharp, metallic, ringing of the bell. Crap! I take off on a run towards room 206. 
                          
  When I get home, I march into my room and slam the door. I stifle a sob as I sink to the floor. I'm drowning in a sea made entirely of him. His cologne and his eyes, his laugh and his hands. Everything. I want to let him cover me like a blanket, protecting me from reality. I want to wear him like armor, protecting me from father's fits of rage, and from mother's absence. I want him to protect me from myself. But, it is not to be.