I've been thinking about this idea for a while now, and I just started writing it and wanted to see where it went. I don't know if this has been used yet, but please read and let me know what you think!
oh.my.god. i've published four chapters and i forgot the DISCLAIMER?!?!??!
Disclaimer: Number 1: I'm not Mormon. Number 2: I don't live in Arizona. Number 3: Sigh, I don't own Edward, whimpers(even though he isn't the main character in this story, so that doesn't confuse you). Gosh darn it don't make me say it! Fine! I don't own any of Stephenie Meyer's work.
The wad of thick paper and saliva rebounded off the back of my neck. I ran my hand across my sweater, and felt several of the balls stuck to my back.
"What a way to start the day…" I thought indifferently.
I didn't care. It was impossible to care. The jerks that sat behind me in every single class- I couldn't even have relief in not one, they just had to be everywhere- taunted me all the time, and I wasn't proud of it.
Mr. Burns, the short stubby teacher, continued his lecture, not even noticing the animosity his students seemed to transmit through their brainwaves. He had just assigned a paper due over spring break, and believe me, I was the last person that wanted to write it.
The bell rang soon enough, and I rose and turned slowly, finally letting my rage take over. But before I could even utter a word, a single word, the largest of the spit wads hit me in square in the mouth.
I gagged, and began coughing violently.
"What a loser," commented one.
" Yes, the queen of 1953," another laughed.
Would I ever get over the insults, the jokes. I was yellow, and never retaliated. Whenever I tried to fight back, I always took one step forward, and three steps back. I frowned, turned away, and gathered my withered books. It wasn't long before I heard the familiar patter of steps that seemed to complete my own.
"Um, Emmett, you sort of have some stuff on your back," Gigi said, passing her hand along the back of my sweater, trying to get it off.
"Oh really? I hadn't noticed. What else is new?" I replied sarcastically, settling into the person I really was, with one of the only people I could be myself with.
She piled her books into my arms, and began to tie her unusual red hair into a low ponytail. It was funny watching her facial expressions; how she scowled most of the time, even when I made her laugh. I laughed then out loud. Her laughing face looked much like an opened mouthed grimace. That made her stare curiously into my blue eyes, and then look away quickly. She was used to me randomly chuckling at everything. The only time she ever truly got angry at me was when I laughed at this homeless person singing like Elvis Presley.
"What are you some sort of freak? The poor lady…" Gigi muttered.
"Cool it, G, I really didn't mean it. But seriously, she really danced better than Presley," I ended, still laughing.
"So what happened today?" she asked.
" Nothing, really. Got up, came to school, and was a 3-D advertisement for pinning the tail on the donkey," I began to number off with my fingers, "except without the pin, the tail, or the donkey."
I smirked, laughing at my own joke. No wonder I was such a target. But as much as I liked denying it, that wasn't why I was the butt of every joke, the reason why I was prone to so many artifices. My title was literally, Emmet Salk, ass wipe. My father, Jonas Salk. I remembered trying to convince him to change his name when I was five or six, because the boys at school used to call me "whale poop". I hadn't gotten it, until a small red-headed girl came up to me and made the analogy between the biblical story of Jonas and the Whale, and how my father was basically shunned from society because of his theory of being able to vaccinate polio. She was incredibly smart, and cute, and I remember telling her I loved her, and being shoved to the ground. She actually pushed me, and then helped me back up. Oh the joys of childhood.
Now being a full fledged adolescent, and the running back on the football team because of my build, I was miserable. Not completely, because I had Gigi. Gigi had been my best friend since the age of five, and our friendship grew over the years. I was sixteen, and she was sixteen. Our birthdays only were a month apart, and we both had a knack for being able to finish each others sentences.
"So what time is…" she began.
"Football practice?" I ended glumly. "Five, so I won't be able to come over today. You know how much I hate this sport, but it's basically the only thing that makes me normal around here."
She scowled at the floor, her cheeks turning bright red.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" she spoke quickly, and I could hear the anger with each spoken syllable.
"Come on Gigi!" I exclaimed, "You KNOW I never miss a practice…although I should, seeing that I heard the guys planning to jack my pads and soak them in dog dung."
"Well, groovy then," she hissed, "you promised you would today, and I am going to have no choice but to have to wait for you…again."
I sighed in relief. Considering all the boys had huge crushes on Gigi, being the target was the main concern of the quarterback and his gang.
The day ended quickly as my day considerably brightened after talking to Gigi. I was at my locker when I felt a hand seize my medium-length, brown, curly hair and yank it back. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the biggest jerk of them all to speak.
"So Salk," Billy sneered my name, "are you coming to football practice today?"
"Well, Billy, I'll have to check my schedule…" I started.
"Huh. Seeing how your dad probably needs you to visit him in the psych ward that he calls a lab, maybe you won't come," he said insultingly and hopefully.
He continued to yank my hair, and was about to push it into the locker when I pale hand flashed out and stroked Billy Gray's hair.
"Bill, you know you don't want to do that, right?" Gigi said seductively.
I felt my lower half harden as I heard that voice. I had heard her use it on several occasion, and it never failed to make me embarrass myself. I don't think she ever noticed.
" GIGI! Of course not, we were just messing around, weren't we, Salk?" he said, immediately letting go of my hair, and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. Gigi seemed satisfied with this, flashed me a smile, and walked away. Billy's hand curled into a fist and grapped my sleeve, ripping it off.
"What the hell was that?!" I said, laughing at the stupidity of his gesture.
He too seemed mystified as to why he had just ripped off part of my shirt, and walked away confused.
I was still chuckling as I climbed into my beaten old '45 Dodge, speeding from the lot. As I passed from more urban to rundown Lansing, Michigan, I stopped laughing. How much I wished I could move from here. To just get up and run away, with Gigi as my partner-in-crime. Now that would be the perfect ploy. I pondered the idea as I walked into my home, hearing my father's humming in his laboratory. The walls in this home were so thin that no matter where he was or what he was doing, I always had some inkling of what that was exactly.
I lay my books on the old misplaced bed side table in the middle of the living room, and walked into my father's laboratory. I leaned against the doorpost, waiting for my father to notice me. It didn't take long for him to look up from his telescope, probably the most expensive thing in this entire house.
Jonas Salk, my one and only father, was, besides Gigi, my best friend in my world. I grinned sadly as I realized how small my world really was, no more than the southwestern city of Lansing. Jonas was actually relatively young, only about forty years old, but he spent so much time under florescent lights that he appeared about ten years older. He wore bifocal glasses that always had a spot reserved for the lowest point on his nose without slipping off. He had nice, straight teeth, and most of all…he was crazy. Now I tried to not be so judgmental, but I was tired of him spending all of his time in the lab, trying to discover some cure for polio. I was disgusted with myself that I doubted him, so I tried to help him as much as I could. I sat beside him.
" Have you ever thought of what you'd do when you…" I gulped, trying to sound as convincing as I could, "…when you discover the vaccine?"
" You know, son, I think about that a lot. And you know what? I want you to ask me that again, but say this- Who would own it?" He answered.
"Okay. Who would own it?" I repeated obediently.
"The people!" He jabbed his finger in the air, "Could you patent the sun, Emmett?"
I sighed, and muttered the "no" that he was expecting before walking out of the room and up the stairs into my own room. I had heard him say that countless times; I do not even know why I started the discussion.
I sat down on the couch that I used as a bed, and took out my 11th grade Pre-Calculus book out of the paper bag that I carried all of my books in. I opened the book carefully, waiting for the spine that held the worn pages together to tear completely in half, as my English book had done so this morning before school. When I had finally completed my math homework, I looked at the dusty face of my mother's clock that I kept on the stool next to the couch.
"Oh shit!" I jumped when I saw the time.
I ran from the house, using my athletic ability to arrive at the field of Meadowbrook High School in seven minutes flat. The football field was probably the newest part of the entire school. It seemed like the athletics mattered more than the academics at Meadowbrook, which was why I had joined the football team in the first place. We had been state champions since I joined the team freshman year, and as much as the football jerks hated to admit it, they knew that my skills as running back had a helluva lot to do with it.
"Now that's a new record," I thought to myself as I entered the stinky locker room, passing the herd of boys crowded around the entrance.
"Oh look!" one of Billy's followers cried out, pointing at me.
"Shut the hell up! Didn't your ma ever tell you not to point?" Billy whispered, placing his hand over the boy's mouth.
Did they really think I couldn't hear them?
As I neared my locker, the stink intensified. Was I right about the poop on my pads?
"Yes! Another story to add to my storybook…" I thought sarcastically.
The only reason I didn't run out was because I had made Gigi stay and watch me, and I was doing this for her.
So as I placed the pads on my shoulders, ready to walk out, I felt proud, and was ready to look for Gigi in the crowd.
R&R please!! Let me know how it was, and any suggestions for the next chapter???