Christopher Stiger's Story

Three-hundred, ninety-three. Three-hundred, ninety-three bulges on the roof, well at least, that was how many Chris had managed to count before the alarm clock screeched and beeped. Turning his head on his small black pillow, he checked the time. 6:00 am, reaching out he pressed the little black button on the top left of the alarm clock turning the infernal noise off, and left alone in the silence; Chris went back to contently examining the roof. He had woken up at 5:30 thanks to the yelling that erupted from the floor below, probably his brother and 'sister' getting into another fight. It wasn't his problem, or at least, that is what he told himself and despite believing that; he couldn't fall back to sleep and instead spent the time daydreaming and counting the small globs of paint suspended above him.

Taking a deep breath, Chris sat bolt-right using the momentum to try and get some energy rushing into his veins while he was very much a morning person; it still took a few minutes for his mind to clear. The black blanket fell down to his hips reveal his bare midriff. The sudden morning chill sunk into his skin, and too stubborn to jump out and get dressed, Chris opted to scratch his stomach using the friction to build some heat in his lower abdomen. Three hours of sleep, argh, no more Duty so late. Chris grimaced at his poor life choices. Why stay up till two in the morning when he knew he would have to get up in three hours? Because he could that's why, and honestly, he hadn't know it was so late. Even though he told himself never again; he would probably be doing it again that night.

Pushing himself out of the bed, Chris let out a small hiss as his bare feet touched the cold wood floor, and he made his way to the hallway. Well, 'made his way' was a very polite term as shambling would have been a better term. His knees came up to his chest with each step as he hopped foot to foot trying to let his feet touch the ground as little as possible and with each touch he let out a small hiss, "Cold, cold, cold."

Chris was not blessed with his own bathroom, no, he was cursed with sharing the upstairs bathroom with his parents, and if he found another clog of human hair in the drain; he was going to be incredibly pissed. He preferred to not think about where it came from as his father was nearly bald and so if it came from him; it was more certainly body hair, and Chris knew for a fact that his mother shaved... That scene was still seared into his brain.

Knocking twice on the bathroom and listening to the silence after, Chris reckoned it was safe and opened the door stepping onto the even colder tile, but jumping foot to foot from the wood floor had given him time to get used to the cold floor, so it was no longer unbearable. Flicking on the lights, Chris took the time to examine himself in the mirror from his blue south park boxes peeking out from the top of his gray sweat pants, and his pale skin that got darker at his arms. Yes, he was a man with a massive farmers tan as, come on, he wasn't from new jersey and nor was he gay, so a full body tan wasn't his thing. His blond 'mane' was wild as bits of it stuck up at random angles including the glorious cow lick at the top. "You talking to me?" Chris said, raising an eyebrow at the reflection.

"You must be talking to me cause I don't see anyone else around." Chris said leaning close to the mirror trying to appear as somber and serious as he could before his face lit up in a huge smile that showed nearly all his teeth, "Good morning beautiful." With morning introductions out of the way, Chris hopped out of his sweatpants and into the shower with only one pissed off scream at the initial blast of cold water. Today was going to be one of those days.

After a long shower, two conditioner treatments, and a failed attempt at brushing down his wild hair; Chris stepped out of the bathroom with the small white towel tied around his waist only to find someone sitting on the top of the stairs. Sandra. Her long blond hair reached down to the middle of her back sweeping the back of her small black t-shirt that did not hide her bare midriff, along with tight, far too tight, black jeans. "Uh, well, isn't this awkward." Chris said. It wasn't eloquent, but it was the first thing that came to mind... and really, the only thing.

Sandra turned her head slowly fixing Chris with her bright blue eyes that were about to overflow in tears, "Oh, hey Cj. I didn't know you were in there."

Right. How could she not know he was in there? The shower was on, and Chris had been singing the entire time, 'We Didn't Start the Fire'... although he forgot half the names Billy slung out when he sung, but in the shower, who cares? "Well. This is still incredibly awkward, so I'ma just, you know, squeeze past ya here." Chris said taking a large step and clutching onto the towel trying to will it to not fall at this time.

"Ok... It's just.." Sandra stopped pretending like she didn't want to talk about it, but Chris knew better. How he hated when people did that. Pause to try and get the other person to nudge them into telling, but no. He wasn't going to fall for that trap. "Yea, I get it." Chris said with a shrug, "Just be like: Oui, you pissing me off. Now shut up before I deck you in the snoze. Works when I do it." Chris said before opening his door and flinging himself into the room congratulating himself on dodging that bullet. Seeing Sandra cry was definitely not on his 'want to do' list.

Finally free, he tossed the towel to the side and began to dress. It's fair to say that Chris isn't a fashionista. A plain gray t-shirt, blue carpenter jeans that hugged him in no way, and white Nike basketball shoes, he preferred the high tops that basketball shoes had compared to others. If the ankle was too low; it tripped him out. Felt like his foot was just going to pop out of the shoe. Finally content with his look; he glanced at his alarm clock and the cellphone laying next to it. Scooping it up; he checked the time, 6:43. Perfect... no breakfast today. He did notice the numerous text messages from various people, but he didn't feel like writing back. Touch screens had a way of pissing him off, and plus, it was no one too important.

Picking up his backpack and car keys, Chris opened his bedroom door only to find Sandra still there. "Jesus." He mumbled under his breath. Why did some people want to talk to him about their problems? He was an asshole. A fact he openly embraced. "I am heading out now. You have a nice day." Chris said plastering on a smile and giving her a very corny thumbs up.

"I'll try." Sandra said with a huff before setting her thin chin on her curled fist. "Do. Or do not." Chris said mimicking a certain tiny jedi, "There is no try." After which he skidded by her noticing she had a least given him a smile of pity which was better then nothing, but he pushed her out of his mind. He had better things to do... like be awesome. The house would be empty save for Sandra and his brother as he was probably still asleep in the downstairs bedroom, typical really. His parents would be at work as the diner opened incredibly early. Some people needed their hamburger fix at four in the morning.

Finally free from the pit of despair that was his house, Chris took a deep breath enjoying the way the morning air felt as it sunk into his lungs and energized his body. Alrighty, lets do this shit. He said giving himself a mental perk up.

The old 1975 dodge pick up was a 'gift' from his dad, but a car is a car and at least it was solid steal so if he did get in a wreck with someone, Chris would probably just be scrapping them from the bumper. The truck had a half/half paint job with the top half being a dull brown and the bottom being a lighter shade, if he had to pick a way to describe the color, it would be banana-nut muffin brown. The paint was scuffed here and there, but it was a good truck. Swinging open the door with a long creak, Chris hopped in and started the ignition... or tried to. The truck whined as the engine turned, and Chris started to mutter under his breath to coax the truck, "Come on bessie... Come on.... Daddy needs to go to places and get shit done."

As if on que, the engine roared to life. Stomping on the crutch, he shifted gears and took off down the street.

---

The drive was short but it gave him time to ponder. Like on last night. Tatiana... That Indian had insane Call of Duty skills. Chris didn't mind losing, but dear god, she beat him like a red-headed step child. At one time, he had thought she was using some crazy Indian voodoo, and she was always on the other team! Like she enjoyed beating him... which he was fairly sure she did. When Chris was losing, it was kind of comedic. He would talk in voices, make retarded sounds, and make really lame jokes as frustration made him laugh.

Chris could still briefly remember some of the things he had said; "Tatiana, why? Just why? I thought we were friends... We were going to go the distance.." Then she knifed him, "Now that's just not fair. Alright, you done it now. You gone and done the deed that broke the camels back, I am totally moving you to fourth on my phone. Yea, I wen.." Sniped. "Aw, come on, that was just low. That's it. I am totally not asking you to homecoming." Not that he was going to, but still. The sheer amount of slaughter was too much. It would take a few days to earn his ego back from that one.

But it was not the saddest moment of the night. Nope, the saddest was when he got into a two hour fight with a thirteen year old boy. The insults were very, very bad with most of it being "No, your mom sucks." And others incredibly childish taunts. So into the fight, Chris wasn't even sure if Tatiana had still been there or logged out or what, but he was also sure of one thing. That kid totally started it.

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Riding into the parking lot and with a crunch of metal, Chris parked his truck and stepped out waving to a few people he knew, and to various people who called out to him. Did he know half of those people who called his name? Hell no, but they knew him which was good enough. Tossing his backpack over his shoulder, he checked his phone feeling like he had forgotten something. Going to text messages he sent one to both Tatiana and Peter, Oui, was I supposed to give someone a ride today? Cause, if I did, ha my bad. If not then sweet. What we doin' today? Content with the sent message, he headed for the school. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he would figure that out once he got his answer from Tat and Peter.

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❝ They love their hair because they're not smart enough to love something more interesting. ❞ - John Green

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Oui, was I supposed to give someone a ride today? Cause, if I did, ha my bad. If not then sweet. What we doin' today?

Fuck. As usual, Peter had slept in, only to wake up to the phone alert of a new text message. He glanced at the text message but forgot to write a response as he noticed the time, and gave a small yell of panic. He jumped up and grabbed a clean shirt from his cupboard, yanking it over his head. He always slept in just his boxers, so it didn't take long to get dressed. He hopped over to where he kept his comb on his desk as he slipped into his jeans, giving it a quick brush through and letting his parting fall into place before looking in the mirror. He gave himself a wink and seemingly satisfied with how he looked, grabbed his phone and bag and ran out of the room.

He hopped into his old yet still shiny Porsche, which his father had bought him as a sixteen birthday present even though the family could hardly afford it. Even though the family weren't that well off, even if they were above just 'getting by,' Peter's father seemed insistent on spoiling his children. Not that Peter complained, it wasn't his money, after all.

He arrived at the school a few minutes late, but the first class hadn't started yet, so he figured he would be alright. He grabbed his leather jacket from the passenger seat and slipped it on as he got out of the car, checking his hair in the mirror first before leaving. Peter reached for his keys in his pocket, all the whilst looking out for Chris. That was when he remembered the text message, and after locking his car, he took out his android.

Just arrived, where are yah? Heading towards the school now.

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❝ They love their hair because they're not smart enough to love something more interesting. ❞ - John Green

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It felt like only moments before his phone vibrated in his back pocket sending unpleasant tingles running down his spine and left leg. Snaking his hand to his back pocket, he retreved the phone before his leg jerked, and he looked like a complete fool, but then, if someone had seen him dance then there was no doubt about the 'fool' bit. Chris tenderly referred to his dance style as the 'standing seizure'. Sadly, when Chris was dancing; he was dancing till he dropped because who cares about how one danced? As long as they had fun, wasn't that enough? What is the point in impressing others with how well one can shake their ass?

Glancing at the screen, Chris took in a sharp breath, "Aw, shit." Yea, you were suppose to pick me up... Remember seeing that my car is a piece of crap and I wouldn't have to ride with my twins. Of all people, why did he forget her? Somehow, somewhere, and sometime; he was sure he would be regretting that decision, but, hey, things happen?... Constantly as this wasn't the first time he had forgotten. He didn't reply as, honestly, Chris didn't want to get in trouble. Tatiana could be quite scary, and she already spanked him enough last night, and it wasn't the fun kind.

Free for the time being; he decided to raid his locker. Managing to get past the numerous people that said hi to him, the 'bro-hugs'. the loud cries of "Chris!" And then the large, bone-crushing hugs from both men and women; Chris managed to get to his locker with all his limbs intact which was always a bonus. Jesus Chris mentally sighed, it always seemed to be him. He had noticed he acted, almost, like a bridge. How many people knew other people through him? A lot. 'He is a friend of Chris.' God, how many times had he heard that line. Was he the guy that just seemed to know everyone? Cause, honestly, Chris really didn't pay enough attention to be that guy, but whatever, if it worked then it worked.

Opening the door of the locker slowly, Chris braced himself should anything tumble out which was a common event. Chris had a terrible habit of not emptying out his things. His backpack was also littered with old, crumpled paper and homework assignments. It wasn't that he was a pack-rat, far from it; he just could never be bothered to clean them out. Running his eyes over the massive amount of paper, old books, and broken pencils; Chris let out a whistle. He had really out done himself. I should probably clean that up a little... Chris pondered before breaking into a large smile, Aw, who am I kidding? I ain't gonna do it.

Bracing his hand against the leaning tower of procrastination; Chris carefully began to slide out his History project. "Come to daddy.." He whispered under his breath before it slipped loose, "Haha!" He roared in triumph as he slammed the door shut to stop anything from escaping. His victory was short lived as once again, his behind started to viberated sending a chill down his back, snaking in; he pulled out the phone finding two new messages one from Peter and Jason.

Party at 9 @ Mine tonight, bring as much alcohol as humanly possible.
Invite everyone and anyone.

Chris re-read the message before texting back, Do I want to get incredibly wasted and then make a complete ass out of myself in front of the entire student body whilst not giving a single fuck? Hell, yes I do. Sign me up, and put me down for a couple bottles of Jim Bean. Clicking the send button, he clicked on the next message on the list.

Just arrived, where are yah? Heading towards the school now. Chris read the message over again and noticed that out of his inner circle he had gotten to school first. That was... well, kinda sad. The big, dumb blond quarterback got to school first. Not that he believed himself to be stupid, but he knew he fit the stereotype of 'jock' perfectly, but hey, if he was happy with being himself, why should he change? He didn't pretend to be 'cool' nor did he try to 'fit' in. This was just who he was, it just happened to be what everyone else considered to be popular.

Before he could start working on a witty message, his hand vibrated as yet another message popped up, this one from Tatiana. Chris was tempted to go back to Peter's text, but he couldn't resist his curiosity at her text. Both of you, meet me by my locker.

Chris couldn't help but laugh at that. So demanding. Almost like he, and either Peter or Jason, were dogs, but that was what he liked about her. So direct. He went back to Peter's message, and typed, Heading to Tatiana's locker. You know how she is.

While he wasn't able to be clever; Chris figured it would be good enough, he would try harder on the next message. Bringing back up Tatiana's text, he entered his message and sent it. Yessa Massa. Right away Massa.

Sliding the phone back in his pocket, Chris zipped open his backpack and crammed the history essay into its dark abyss. Slinging it over his shoulder he took off down the hallway once more engaging in the never ending 'Hellos!' and hugs, but once again, Chris managed to fight his way through the people to Tatiana's locker and spotted the Massa herself.

"Top of the morning to ya!" Chris called out unnecessarily loud because why not? Chris didn't really notice what she was wearing because while looking at her; he didn't really look at her. He did notice Jacob leaning against his locker and for reasons beyond his knowledge, grew annoyed, "Oh my sweet Jebus." Chris said shaking his head, "Ugh, I surf and am so deep." He mimicked sagging his shoulders and lowering his voice, "I give off this mysterious aura to give off this feeling of being more interesting then a piece of plain paper. God." Chris said before flamboyantly flipping his head to the side sending his 'mane' fluttering, "Why does no one get me?"

Leaning against the locker, Chris intertwined his arms and raised his eyebrow at her, "You know what you need to do?" Chris said to her as, it was quite obvious she liked him. Spend as much time with her as Chris did and it was easy to notice when someone fell silent especially when they were as outspoken as Tatiana. He didn't consider himself to be the most observant man, but he wasn't stupid, "You need to walk up to him. Get really, really close." Chris said using his hands to demonstrate how close she should get, "Look him dead in the eyes." He said pointing to his eyes, "And be like: I like ya, and I want ya." He said making his voice as deep as possible, "Now, we can do this the easy way. Or we can do this the hard way." Chris suddenly stopped and flashed one of his large smile, "It works for convicts in prison. You know, shower time. Same concept really."

Cameron danced around the campus for an entire hour. While no one was there, he was free to do as he pleased and dance how he wanted without worry- not that he cared much during school anyways. He could imagine some of the nerds stutter out, "Y-you should really t-take advantage of this time you're given and finish your English essay on the technology of WWII. There are some truly fascinating facts about the advances they made...." Jonah giggled, then realized he was actually hearing this, that this nerd was practically clinging on his shoulder to say these things. His logic didn't connect the mistake to the blunt he'd inhaled this morning. By his lack of response, the boy was gone. Damn, cute, too. Nerds were always interesting to him, and he really desired to befriend one one day. Unfortunately, he had mixed feelings about them. They always made him feel stupid, but he found it fascinating whenever they opened their mouths. Once, he got a full, scientific explanation as to how the moon was the first Waterbender in the Avatar universe because... well, that part wasn't important(or rather, he couldn't recall the facts)

Cameron's desired in friendship aside, he started a brisk walk to the front of the school where most of his friends may be. He pulled a lumpy stick similar to a cigarette and held it between his index and middle fingers. On the inside of his new joint was green rather than tobacco. He had a red bic cupped in his hand and kept flicking it on until he got a flame, lighting his joint. He immediately inhaled a deep breathe and filled his lungs with smoke. He immediately coughed afterwards, a short fit of sorts.
He stayed behind a corner of the school until he finished it off, rubbing it out in the ground with his very worn-in converse. Cough, cough. Cameron coughed again on the way up the sidewalk around the corner, smiling bright as he neared the front of the school, a hop in his step. Cough, cough.

A blonde head caught his eye, making him grin when he spotted Christopher Stiger enter the school. He sped up a little, soon catching up and patting his shoulder. He didn't slow down as he passed.

"Hey, Chris!" he called from about ten feet ahead, blowing him a kiss and leaving down another hall with a wink. Even if gay marriage isn't legal in their state and most people weren't very accepting, he didn't have fear of being knocked into lockers, called horrid names, or experience any of those other horror stories. He'd never met anyone who couldn't sense his playful harassment for what it was; a joke.

He chuckled to himself afterwards, continuing down this hall towards the library where he knew most of his friends would be.

Live in my house,
I'll be your shelter,
Just pay me back
WIth one thousand kisses
Be my lover
and I'll cover you

One of his favorite songs out of RENT blared in his ear, making him smile and forget about homophobia for the moment. It made him grin despite it's reminder that he was still single, as always, even though he was nineteen years old. He'd always loved being single, living out of every form of being free (well, almost. He's not quite a nudist, that's just when he's drunk)

'I'll give you a thousand sweet kisses...'

That part was what made him sigh afterwards, walking through the hallway and halfway to his group of friends. He wished for a person to give a thousand sweet kisses to and wished that that person might come around soon, whether it be this year or in five. He knew (hoped) it would happen eventually, but he felt like he'd only have so much patience before he gave up and stopped shaving.
Whether his future boyfriend was in this hallway or not, he was going to walk in like he owned the place.
He stepped inside the hall of lockers and smiled, immediately spotting his small clique of friends as the minutes 'til school grew fewer and fewer.

Sebastian Drew, Amelia Jones, and Andy Golding were some of his closest friends. Where was Jacob? Oh well, they'd see him later. He hooked an arm around Amelia and smiled at the others.

"Mornin' guys! I feel like today's gonna be fantastic. Have you heard of any parties tonight?" he asked.

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❝ They love their hair because they're not smart enough to love something more interesting. ❞

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Peter walked into the school, nodding at people he recognised and giving a few attractive females winks as he walked by, all the while looking out for Christopher. His phone buzzed, and he looked down immediately.

Party at 9 @ Mine tonight, bring as much alcohol as humanly possible.
Invite everyone and anyone.

A grin spread across his cheeks and he tapped in a quick response to Jason. His parties were always great, and you always had a massive hangover the next day. Peter couldn't wait.

Sweet, dude. I'm coming, obviously.

He had just pressed send, when two messages in quick succession vibrated his phone - one from Chris, the other from Tatiana. He checked the one from Chris first, which informed him that he was heading to Tatiana's locker, and then the one from her.

Both of you, meet me by my locker.

Well, that explained it. She was hardly going to send a message like that to Peter but not Chris. He chuckled under his breath as he reached his locker, taking out his books for his first few classes. He glanced in the mirror he had hidden in the back of his locker, and moved his side bangs slightly, before giving himself a wink. He couldn't help but chuckle at how cliche everything seemed, as if they were in some kids high school movie. Even all the cliques seemed to match exactly how they were portrayed on screen, and he wondered if this was the same in all high schools around the country.

He started making his way to Tatiana's locker, and saw Chris leaning agains it, obscuring who Peter assumed was Tatiana he was talking to, from view. "-shower time. Same concept really."
"What the fuck are you on about, Chris?" Peter asked him as he went to stand beside him. "Shower time?" He raised an eyebrow at his friend and gave him a friendly punch in the arm.

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❝ They love their hair because they're not smart enough to love something more interesting. ❞