Hydrophobia 101: C
"Hey, Colt!" shouted a girl as she ran through the halls and started walking along next to him when she caught up. She spoke cheerfully, "Hi."
"Um, hi," Colt replied somewhat uncomfortably and kept walking. He knew this girl, albeit it not very well. She was a cheerleader named Stephanie Kidman and was what the school his school had nicknamed a "tripe". This stood for Triple P: pretty, preppy, and popular. It was very, very strange for a tripe to talk to someone of Colt's social standing. She was pretty with her long bottle-blonde hair and her tastefully made-up face. Her large breasts were nearly bursting out of her light blue scoop-necked t-shirt, but most guys were probably attracted to something like that while Colt felt that she was demeaning herself. She tanned too much and her legs looked freshly waxed where they extended from her short white shorts. Even her toes had perfectly cut and painted nails with little silver rings on them while she wore simple flip flops. Colt tried to ignore her and continue heading to his class.
She put a hand on his shoulder so he would stop walking and faced him, "Duncan Jones is having this huge party tomorrow night since his parents are gone. I was wondering if you would like to go with me."
Colt didn't seem to register the question because he just stared at her and blinked with a dazed expression on his face. Her smile grew a bit larger as he gaped a little in an attempt to create an intelligible response but it was to no avail.
"It'll take that as a yes," she said perkily, "We'll pick you up tomorrow night at 7:30, ok?"
With that she skipped off and joined a group of girls at the end of the hallway. They turned the corner and were out of sight before a nagging question could enter his mind. And what a strange question it was when it finally got there.
'Does she even know where I live?
X
His hair was still damp from the shower he had taken thirty minutes prior. He had on a tight navy dress shirt with short sleeves that made his stick-like arms look a little bit toned. His black suede pants were originally from the women's section at Goodwill, but he had liked the way they felt and seemed to hug his thighs in a warm embrace before flaring out at the knee. They were too long and looked odd rolled up, so he had gone to Payless and gotten thick-soled black boots so he was a few inches taller. His belt was also meant for a girl and had two large holes, about a centimeter in diameter each, with metal hoops in them, one above the other, about an inch away from another set of holes all around the belt. He'd borrowed it from his foster-mother, Cheri Guest.
Cheri was a young woman in her mid thirties that was infertile, much to the dismay of her and her husband (who was also Colt's foster father), Nathan Guest. Her hair was a rather plain shade of brown and was always in a lose ponytail that went down to the middle of her back. She dressed in a simple manner of T-shirts, jeans, and the occasional with few nice dresses because they didn't really have very much money, hence why they took in foster children instead of adopting one of their own. She worked at a day care center and couldn't be happier. She loved kids and loved helping out by giving the less fortunate kids, such as Colt, good homes and good environments to grow up in. The world needed more people like Cheri and her husband.
She was smiling broadly at Colt's reflection in the full-length mirror as he ran pomade-coated finger through his hair. She sighed and said, "You look so nice. I've never seen you get all dressed up like this on your own will before."
He put his hands down and stepped back a bit, examining the reflection, "I guess I look ok."
"Ok nothing," Cheri argued, "You look great."
Colt smiled, "You really think so?"
"I know so," she replied haughtily, but slightly teasingly.
Smile fading, Colt turned around to look at her, "What if it's all just a big joke, Cheri?" he asked quietly, "What if they just want me to come so they can laugh at me?"
"Then we'll put burning bags of dog feces on each and every one of their door steps," she said seriously. Colt laughed and inhaled deeply, "Thanks, Cheri."
"Colt!" Nathan shouted from the bottom of the stairs, "Stephanie is here!"
Taking a deep breath, Colt yelled back, "Ok, I'll be there in a minute!" He turned to Cheri and smiled weakly, "I guess this is it. Wish me luck."
Cheri grabbed his face, one palm on each cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, "You don't need luck," she said firmly, "You are going to be just fine, understand? Everything is going to be just fine." Then she let him go.
Colt walked slowly down the steps where Stephanie was waiting for him. She wore a short frosted-pink spaghetti strap dress that exposed most of her legs. She wore matching frosted-pink platform shoes with frosted- pink polish on her toenails. Even her full lips and eye-lids were covered in a thin layer of frosted-pink. Meanwhile she had a pair of earrings adorning her ears with dangling jeweled butterflies attached. A necklace that matched was chained around her neck and she even had a charm bracelet with numerous butterflies clinking together and a tiny butterfly toe ring on her left foot. What topped it off was the tiny butterfly that kept her hair out of the right side of her face. Colt tried to keep himself from rolling his eyes, but he had to close his eyes and do so despite his efforts.
"You look great," he said when he got to the bottom of the stairs, lying through his teeth. She looked like a hooker in every sense of the word.
"Thanks," she said in a ditzy, bubbly voice that only emphasized how brain dead she looked. It was no wonder Colt had over heard jocks at school saying things about her like how she would make a great 'cock ornament.' It was very disgusting, really.
"Colt," Nathan said from the side of the entryway as though he was unsuccessfully trying to hide himself. "You know the rules, right?"
Rolling his eyes, Colt replied, "No drinking, no drugs, no sex and be home by one. That's everything, right?"
Nathan nodded and opened the door for them. He grinned, "Have fun, you two. And be careful."
"We will," said Colt as he hurried Stephanie out of the door, "Bye, Nathan," then shouted up the stairs, "Bye, Cheri!" Her reply was muffled by the walls and space between them
Stephanie smiled at him as they walked out to the car and Nathan closed the door. Colt felt very scared during those few moments.
"Why do you call your parents by their first names?" Stephanie asked once they were in the car and her chauffeur had pulled away from the curb in front of his house. Colt again wondered how she had known where he lived.
"They're not my parents," he explained. Stephanie frowned and asked, "If they're not your parents, who are they?"
Colt replied, "They are my foster parents."
"Oh," Stephanie stated simply, "Why do you have to live with foster parents?"
Staring down at his hands, Colt held them in his lap and wrung them together in a nervous gesture. Stephanie noticed this, "I'm sorry, did I hit a nerve?"
"No," Colt said, shaking his head, "It's alright. My mom. is dead. She went when I was really little so I barely remember her. And my dad's in prison. Neither of them had any family so I had no where else to go."
Stephanie made a sympathetic noise and ran her hand through his hair, "That's so sad."
Colt shrugged nonchalantly, "I guess I really don't mind that much anymore. I'm kind of used to it."
"I don't know what I would do in your situation," Stephanie continued, "My daddy is everything to me. I couldn't live without him. You see, my mom died, too. That's why Daddy takes such good care of me and treats me so well. I remind him of her," She had a melancholy look in her eyes as she said this, but masked over it with bubbly perkiness. "This party is going to be so much fun!"
In those few short moments, Colt felt like he had gotten to see more of who she actually was than any of her supposed friends ever would.
The car pulled up to a large white house where you could hear loud music blaring and see people inside doing things that they had been told never to do since they were very small. Once again, teenagers have expressed the truth that no one ever listens to police officers. Stephanie eagerly yanked him out of the car, yelled something at the chauffeur and dragged him into the house by the hand with their fingers entwined. The instant they walked through the doorway, they were confronted by a slim brunette in a sparkly powder-blue strapless dress that made Colt want to give her a pamphlet on feminism.
"Stephie!" she exclaimed in an obnoxiously squeaky voice and rushed over to hug the pink clad girl while Colt watched off to the side the best he could while Stephanie still gripped his hand. "I haven't seen you in ages! How have you been?"
"I'm great, Liz. How are you?" Stephanie replied when the girl pulled away from their loose embrace.
Liz grinned, "I am absolutely wonderful. You know, my mother sent me off to the top modeling agency in England. I'm going to be in next month's issue of Vogue. I'm just visiting this week and some people told me to come along. It's pretty lame compared to some of the parties I went to in London. What have you been up to?"
"Oh, I've actually been looking into designing a few things. I'll send you some of my sketches when I get the chance," Stephanie replied then remembered the boy clasping her hand, "Oh, this is my date, Colt."
Liz looked him up and down, her plastic smile quickly turning into a poorly hidden grimace, "Nice," she choked out, "Very. cute. I'm going to go talk to Miranda. Ciao, sweetie."
"Bye," Stephanie said as she walked away then muttered, "Bitch."
Colt stared at her, slightly astonished, "You guys acted like you were the best friends on the planet reunited and now you're insulting her. I missed something."
"Liz is a spoiled brat," explained Stephanie as she lead him through the house and to the kitchen, "We used to be really good friends, but then in fifth grade she got to be in a Bonnie Belle magazine add and suddenly started thinking she was better than everyone else. She just loves making other people feel inferior."
She handed him a bottle of beer while he stared blindly at the adjacent room that was usually a dining room, but the furniture had been moved and it was being used as a dance floor. People were grinding together and doing vulgar things that Colt didn't want explained him while loud music pounded and a strobe light was going. It disturbed him so much that he didn't notice the bottle Stephanie had given him until she dragged him into the living room where softer music was playing and people were standing around in groups socializing. She made him sit down on a couch.
"So what do you think so far?" she asked and took a sip of the Mike's Hard Lemonade she had gotten.
Colt shrugged, "I don't see what's so great about all of this."
"It's a lot more fun once you're drunk," she said with a laugh. Colt looked at the bottle for a second then nearly dropped it, shaking his head at her, "I can't. I. I really can't. My dad was an alcoholic and that's genetic so I, I just can't."
"It's ok," said Stephanie, trying to calm him down, "Just go back to the kitchen. I'm sure there are cokes in there somewhere. Just make sure it's in a can or something."
Nodding, Colt headed back to the kitchen and put the beer on the counter, not even wanting it in his hands longer than it needed to be. It never should have been in his hands in the first place. He went to the refrigerator and opened it. He pushed aside some more beer bottles and noticed a few cokes in the back. Just as he reached for one he felt a muscled arm rest on his shoulders and instantly stood upright, staring straight ahead.
"Colt," a harsh male voice seemed to spit out, "Buddy, what are you doing here? I am so glad to see you!"
He turned around slowly and grimaced, barely holding back the urge to shudder, "Hi, Duncan."