Story: The Splintered Reality, Ch1

[Natalia Sierra C.]

OKAY, so, um, this is, like, my story. =P Haha yeah. Hope you like, and feedback is much appreciated. First draft. Beta-ing would be a nice sevice...

 

PS: BEWARE OF SWEAR WORDS. You have been warned...

 

Title: The Splintered Reality

Summary: It might have been cute if Sam was four, but surprisingly, at fourteen, having an imaginary friend is a lot less Fight Club and a lot more Calvin and Hobbes. The story of an average American teenage boy with a not-so-average mental concern. 

 

Okay, there was one thing I knew. Six-o-freaking-clock in the morning was too early to even be alive. But obviously, since when did the idiots who decided the school schedule care about that? Oh yeah, that's right, never. Did they honestly have to start is so early?.

Oh, screw it, I decided. I'm being late today, because I honestly couldn't have given a damn.

So I simply shut that really freaking stupid alarm off, retracted back my arm, and snuggled under the covers.

However, someone wouldn't have that.

I grunted when I felt something that felt like a book get thrown in my general direction and hitting me in the back, painfully. "Ah!" I yelped, "What the heck was that? It's too early for this…"

"Wake up, you lazy-ass. Oh, and I think that was your Bible. Ha ha, I just hit you with a bible…"

Urgh, yeah I knew that voice to freaking well.

"Go away, Bee."

"No," came the stern reply. "Come on, Sam, middle school beckons! Can't you hear it—ow—calling?"

The somewhat satisfying ow I heard came from the fact I threw my arm back randomly and managed to hit him somewhere in the chin. "Brendon, you bitch, let me sleep."

I heard him sigh before he ripped the covers off me ("What the hell do you think you're doing?") and spoke again. "Well, obviously someone's in a bad mood today. Good morning to you too, Sunshine. Come on, get up! You have school today, in case you forgot."

"Bee, I hate you."

"Love ya too, honey."

Groaning, I looked at him for the first time in this entire conversation and lurched forward so I was sitting up. I frowned and glared up at Brendon. He was dressed in his usual clothes—red high top Converse, grey skinnies, and a blue zip-up hoodie with white zippers over a Beatles Magical Mystery Tour T-shirt. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows to reveal dozens of colorful bead bracelets and rubber armbands (a fact I found to be really gay, by the way, and mentioned several times). He must have magically dyed his hair overnight (seeing as we owned no hair dye) because it was now a blindingly bright blood red (cherry-bomb red, he called it), but pretty badly done because the roots of his natural black hair were still blatantly obvious. It was cut strangely, but not any stranger than usual—the sides of his head were shaved, but the middle was grown out until it barely brushed his chin and sharply framed his angular face, as well as fall over the sides of his head so the shaved part was hardly noticeable. He was practically screaming the rainbow

Yeah, he's weird, I know.

"Okay, I'm up, can you go away now?" I growled, before swinging my legs off the bed and standing up, swaying a little as I rubbed my eyes.

"Nah, sorry, bro," he said, grinning, but he took a couple steps back anyway.

I lowered my hands and stumbled over to my dresser, yanking a pair of boxers, some jeans, and what I supposed was a Nirvana T-shirt, but I was too lazy to check. I started to pull on the shirt when Bee stopped me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa—what do you think you're doing?"

"Uh," I said, wondering why he was stopping me from getting dressed. "Putting on clothes?"

"What about a shower?"

I rolled my eyes and proceeded to pull the rest of my shirt on. "Pfft, relax. No one hangs out with me, so they'll never notice anyway."

"Well, I'll notice!"

"You, my friend, don't count." I replied, pouting slightly and poking him in the chest.

"Fine, but at least have the decency to, like…" At this he wandered out the door and into the bathroom across the hall, opening the cabinet and searching through it for something, "Put on some deodorant, or… this, I guess." He raised what looked like a cologne bottle and chucked it at me. I scrambled to raise my hands in time to catch it and managed, nearly dropping the bottle in the process. Upon glancing at the label I groaned and chucked it on my bed. "That's the worst man-perfume I have, genius."

He wandered back into my room and shut my door behind him. "That cologne—emphasis on cologne—is the only one you have. Unless you count that really awful one you never wear anyway." He wrinkled his nose and stuffed his hands in his pockets, plopping down in my desk chair.

"Who are you to judge my colognes? I mean, I can wear what—"

At this my door swung open again and I was greeted by the sight of my mother in the doorway, red-brown hair pulled up in a high-ponytail, arms crossed over her robe, and dark brown eyes that were much like my own narrowed in that you-are-the-worst-disappointment-of-all-disappointments-and-I-can't-believe-you're-my-child look the all mothers have the ability to give their sons.

"Who are you talking to, honey?" she said in that sugar-coated voice that I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at. She acted like I was five-years-old, and I hated it. Her eyes flickered over to where Bee was sitting, like she could see him. He grinned happily and gave her a salute in greeting.

"Oh, just Brendon," I said, casually waving to my supposedly occupied desk chair. "We're discussing my lack of decent cologne."

She nodded slowly, almost sarcastically. "Ah, I see."

"Yup," I agreed, nodding awkwardly.

"Honey," she said, eyebrows knitted and sounding concerned, "Do you think it's normal to have an imaginary friend at your age? You're fourteen, and you're a great student, but…" she trailed off, and then sighed. "You know. I'm just a little concerned."

I simply sighed and hung my head. "I know, Ma," I said, trying to sound sincere, "But you really don't need to worry. I mean—" I scratched the back of my head. "It's not like he's a bad influence. He's actually the reason I'm up right now. He's half the reason I am a good student."

She smiled and walked up to me, hugging me and pecking me on the cheek. "Okay, if you say so, honey. As long as he isn't distracting you. Now, have fun at school, okay? I have to go take a shower and then run to the doctor's really quick."

I grinned back. "I'll try, Ma."

And with that, she gave one final glare at the desk chair, left, and shut the door behind her.

"How long do you think she's gonna do that?" I asked, staring at the closed door. "I mean, she looks at you every time. I know she knows you're there."

Bee shrugged uselessly and proceeded to spin around in the chair. "I dunno. Maybe forever. I don't think she sees me, though."

I frowned, still staring at the door.

"…We'll see."

X

One forced cologne-spraying and hair-brushing later ("Ah! You sprayed me in the eye, you asshole!"), we both sat at the kitchen table, a bowl of soggy Raisin Bran in front me. Bee was sitting across from me, his bright red head resting in one of his hands, while spinning the Lazy Suzan around in circles with the other.

I spooned another bite and popped it in my mouth, chewing slowly, staring thoughtfully outside the window.

"Does it bother you that when we head to school, it's still pitch black out?" I asked randomly. Brendon didn't move, only stopped his consistent Lazy Susan-spinning looked up at me with those stupid hazel eyes, blinking once with those dark, girly eyelashes of his.

"Should it?" he asked, still not moving.

"Yes." I answered automatically, eyes still locked on the dark, early-morning sky.

"Then sure."

I rolled my eyes and returned to eating my cereal. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."

I ignored Bee's gaze, which was still firmly set on me.

"You know, that buzz cut was a terrible idea." He stated randomly, a couple minutes later.

"I know!" I agreed, raising a rand to feel my incredibly short hair. "But my mom insisted. Man, I do not look good with a buzz cut. "

"I know. I believe I have already stated that fact."

I rolled my eyes and glared at him and his freaking perfect skin and pixie nose and long hair and girly eyelashes. "Yeah, well, that haircut ain't doing much good for you either, Bee. You look like a girl."

He shrugged uselessly. "Doesn't matter anyway. Not like anyone can see me. I dye my hair when I feel like it, and don't when I don't."

I paused, thought over what he had said, before shrugging and returning to my breakfast

X

Twenty minutes later, my backpack was slung over my over my shoulder and grey Chuck Taylors adorned my feet as I walked gloomily down the sidewalk, Bee practically skipping along next to me like he was Mr. Hot Shit himself.

"Why are you so sad?" he asked dramatically, dragging out the A, as he stopped and threw his arms around me.

"Because I'm going to school. Now get off me."

He retracted his arms and crossed them over his chest instead, frowning. "Fine. Why are you being such a jerk?"

"Because I'm 'sad'," I said, raising my hands and using quotation marks. "To use your wording."

He rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, changing his gait from a skip to more of a casual swagger. "Jeez, you're such a downer. Lighten up! Yeah, school may suck, but being a jerk isn't gonna make things any better. Be an optimist. And think, 'Hey, if I didn't go to school, I'd have no chance of going to college and probably end up homeless.' Think that you're fortunate enough to live in a house with three floors and be fed three over-sized meals every day, instead living in poverty, you know?"

"I wish I was fortunate enough to not have you nagging me all the time about how 'fortunate' I am." I replied back sourly.

He sighed in response. "Pfft. I give up on you. Be sad, see if I care." He rolled his eyes and ambled off the sidewalk, walking instead on the empty street. "Now, walk faster, you have a class to not be late to."

[Wesley Williams]

I really enjoyed the interaction between Sam and Bee...which I suppose is the whole point of the story...

Both characters seemed totally real and believable to me (even though one is imaginary), especially Sam's dreary attitude; I've known many a kid that sounded exactly like him.  Keep writing, I'd love to read more :)

[Natalia Sierra C.]

Haha, thank you! I'm glad you like it. And yes, that is one of the main points of the story. In the beginning, anyway.

 

Character development and interaction is what I'm best at, so I'm glad you took notice. :D And I will! Thanks again.

[Nico... just... Nico...]

I wish this chapter was longer, and I'm glad it wasn't because I wouldn't be able to stop reading. I hope you post more, this is great stuff, like you said it's like a more mature Calvin and Hobbes(which by the way is my favorite comic strip). Post more if you can please, I would definitely buy this book.

[Natalia Sierra C.]

Haha, sorry it was so short! The next chapter will be longer, I promise. Though I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing. :P Thanks.

And yes,it is intended to have that C&H novel for teens feel. Same here. I have so many of those books, haha. :P And more is coming soon.

 

Thanks so much, again! The feedback is much appreciated!