|Fun and Games, And "Peachy-Keen" (standard:fantasy, 4150 words)|
|Author: G.H. Hadden||Added: May 12 2005||Views/Reads: 1706/1255||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Craig is a sporty kid with a need to improve his grades. Shortly, he will befriend Dillon, a smart but strange introvert who’s eyes fill them all with a nameless fear. Can Craig overcome his apathy and prejudice—or is he a mere pawn in a greater play?|
Fun and Games, And "Peachy-Keen" By G.H. Hadden His eyes were pink, Craig assured himself. They were pink the whole time. No one can change the color of his or her eyes—like...What? What creature can change its' eye color? None, right? Can they? From the first day of school Craig could see Dillon Marsden was different, but it was not just the obvious things that everyone noticed—more than just the boy's ghost white albino skin, or those strange pink eyes that weren't quite demonic but nonetheless unsettling to have them gaze upon you with any kind of regard. Nor was it exactly the boy's white-blonde hair, or even the fact that he seemed totally oblivious to any sense of fashion. It was more as though he were completely clued out of their culture altogether. While the other boys talked about who was hot on Canadian Idol, or what the hockey strike was likely to do to the Flames this year—he would quietly withdraw to a more uninhabited corner of the playground and watch the other "normal" kids climb on the monkey bars, play baseball on the diamond, or watch Craig and his friends play a pick-up game of street hockey on the private road that lead up to the school. He was a quiet boy: never volunteering an answer, but always giving the right one when the teacher called upon him. He was certainly the bright and studious type—the kind of boy that just might be able to keep Craig from repeating the sixth grade this year. But although he seemed withdrawn and unsociable (and as some of the others thought, a bit snobbish), Craig still thought the new boy carried himself with a kind of quiet dignity despite being such an obvious outcast. Maybe that's why he came to the boy's rescue that day, and not just for the simple selfish need for a tutor. It had been bothering him for a long time. Sure at first it was all fun and games when the freaky albino boy got nailed in the face playing dodgeball, and even when he saw Dave and Cass pushing him around and giving him a bit of a rough time on the playground, it seemed quite natural. The kid practically begged for that kind of negative attention by being so different; while at the same time displaying a less than healthy interest in his classmates. He had a few acquaintances that would collaborate with him on school projects, but it seemed like he only tolerated their company. He got along with everyone well enough in the class setting, but once the bell rang; he went merrily on his way alone. He seemed just fine with that too. Dave and Cass can be pretty abrasive when they want to be. Dave's got an older brother, so he thinks his balls are much bigger than everyone else's. If Cravenshaw Elementary had a head bully—that is, someone to whom all the other subordinate wannabes reported; it would be him. He was always poking his nose into places where it was neither welcome nor wanted, but he had the size and the brother to back him up. For an eleven-year-old, five-foot-six is giant size in a world of four-foot-somethings. Although no shrimp himself, Craig would be outclassed in a fight with him. Cass, on the other hand, was one of those kids that kind of went along with the flow. He was an average kid trying to fit in with the cool group of which Dave was the leader, and so he made every effort to make sure Dave's eyes focused on Dillon as the scapegoat—and not him. Worst of all, now the other followers were getting in on the act, and it was becoming a regular sight to see three, or maybe even four guys ragging on Dillon at lunch. When the teacher is around (of course), things are always so "peachy-keen" with him. But they sit strategically next to him on purpose. Craig sees them from across the room where he sits faithfully every noon hour with his best buds Jimmy and Nate. Craig's friends never seem to notice the hijinks going in the back. They're too busy with the other sporty-minded kids who swap hockey cards and music mix CDs. They're too busy comparing high scores and cheats for video games like Grand Theft Auto and trading apples and sandwiches for cookies and pizza slices. Meanwhile, at the farthest reaches of the lunchroom, there would be Dillon sitting alone with his thoughts, eating his sandwich from a brown metal lunch pail you'd see workers in factories eat from on TV. Like his conservatively patterned shirts and the rough denim of his jeans, it looked antique and out of place in the modern hustle-bustle of an elementary school lunchroom set in the new Click here to read the rest of this story (325 more lines)
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