A/N- Yes its been a long time. Kudos to anyone still kicking around. But give it a read, and if you like it, give me a review.
The stealth continued.
Seth lay in his bed, listening to his parents make small talk. For such a big, well constructed… expensive house, sound sure did carry.
They were talking about him, of course.
Sandy always the generalizer, Kirsten always the worrier.
His mother was of course worried that he had no friends, that he spent so much time alone, that he listened to that weird music, had taken to wearing shirts with collars and brown pants, and finally, this shocked Seth a little, she was concerned about his sexual identity?
Seth sat up in bed half way between a cough and a laugh. Oh good lord, he thought, like any normal teenager that his parents didn't understand him, but wow.
Now it was Sandy's turn.
Generalizing time: He would make friends when he started High school, its summer, weird music is just a phase (at which point the felt the need to input his old like for ACDC), ditto with the clothes, and as for the sexual identity, Sandy didn't even touch it. Thank God.
Seth was young, perhaps slightly immature, but puberty had began and he was reasonably sure (95 or more) that he would rather look at girls than boys.
Like Summer for example. Yes, defiantly Summer, she was every type of fine.
His parents slowly went through their early morning routines, and Seth lost interest, not getting up until he had heard the second car start and reverse down the driveway.
The day had begun. He didn't know what it involved yet, but he had a rough idea. He could see the sunshine pouring in the windows, hear the waves lapping far away down the hill, the palm tree leaves whistling by the pool. It was a day for sailing. And Weed.
Yes, defiantly weed. One needed to take the fact that his Mother thought was gay, with a grain of salt, and reasonable sized joint.
He turned on his music, and threw on some clothes, it was only when he was bopping around to Built To Spill, that he saw himself in the mirror. He was wearing brown pants and a collared shirt.
His Mom deserved to think he was weird. Did they really think they would get popularity out of their offspring? The only half Jew/half newpsie for miles and miles. The only kid that had been imported from Berkley, instead of born, crawled, walked and ran within the tiny gates of Newport.
Yes he was weird, but he could appreciate that. Such things built character he reckoned.
He pursued the Jenga box. He would have to make a stop at the arcade. Street fighter #2 needed to have his ass whupped, and he needed to pad Street Fighter #1's pockets in exchange for his illicit drugs. But, really, he lived in California. Liberal central. Did it really matter?
He headed out of the house. Skateboarded down to the pier.
Chores successfully done Seth headed to his boat. He had whupped and bought. It was time to get some salt air, a buzz, and a wide ocean.
Seth loved to think on his sailboat. Surrounded by nothing but water, he loved to just pull down the sails, drop his feet in the water and let himself drift. He thought a lot. The weed probably helped, but he liked to think that he was a bit of a philosopher at heart.
The sun was on its decline by the time he headed back inland, choosing to dock at the beach near his house than at the harbour. Who wanted the extra walk up that gigantic hill anyway? Why must rich people build their houses on hills? He mused.
"Hey Kid, how was your day?" His Dad was at the kitchen table with a stack of files beside him, his Mom was on the phone ordering Thai.
"It was good. It was fine." Everything was always fine, Stealth, Stealth.
He passed his Mom as he headed to the stairs.
"hey Kiddo, I didn't know they made pants in that colour." his Dad teased to his back.
Seth smirked. Yeah, life sucked, but he'd survive.