So, after something like 4 months of e-mails back and forth, SignedSealedWritten and I have finally gotten around to posting this baby! Well, this is kind of more of a teaser, but you're getting the prologue anyway! We both promise to be as quick as we can in updating but there are no guarantees. Life can be a pain in the rear end sometimes, but we'll do our best!
Memoir
Prologue: Reunion
The air smelled of memories.
Memories jarred into remembrance by the sight of familiar faces, aged by time and fogged by years but not quite forgotten. Minds swarmed with sudden flashes of skipping classes, of teachers, of lectures and presentations. The air was sodden with memories of former best friends, past alliances, dissipated fights and first loves.
He saw all of it and felt none of it.
He saw differently – he viewed things through eyes tinted dark from too many years of harbored perceived injustice. Memories were like the sharp blade of a knife pressing against his skin. Nothing was fogged or faded, but instead crystal clear – a movie playing out before his eyes.
The memories were different, not pretty and nicely shaped like a teenage romance novel. They were dark, with random, erratic bits of light shining through. Jeers, tests, the last picked on the team – a first crush found and a first love lost.
He was the boy with the coke bottle glasses and she had been the girl with the light in her eyes. He was the boy who got the grades and he had been the one who got the girl. He was the boy who stared in jealousy, and watched him get the girl. He was the boy who watched him succeed, while he stayed behind and struggled to keep up.
He was never the boy who won. He was always behind, always watching, waiting. He was still waiting. Whatever it was he waited for never came. It hurt. It hurt more and more every single day, something giant and missing in the center of his chest.
He raised his eyes to the groups of people before him. He'd tried to make peace with it long ago. He'd failed to make peace long ago, and he'd tried and he'd tried to keep going. They were here, all of them – The Beauty, The Winner, The Jock, The Success, The Giver. Why was he here? He wasn't sure, not really – or if he did, he didn't want to admit why, surely not to himself. The idea that one of them would come up to him, tell him … tell him how wrong they'd been, how much of a mistake ignoring him, torturing him, had been – the idea was terrifying and beautiful all at once, like a volcano erupting.
The notion of acceptance was nearly too foreign to contemplate. He'd never had it. He didn't know what it felt like, smelled like, tasted like …
The Beauty was looking at him. He thought she looked exactly as she had back then – the same smile and dimples and the voice and long hair …
She was walking towards him!
Her hair swung when she walked, and her smile grew. There was light in her eyes. His mouth was too dry. Her eyes were so blue. His heart beat too fast. There were dimples in her cheeks. The world was spinning all around him …
He wanted to speak, but his lips stuck together. He tried to speak, and his eyes drifted beyond her, to the group she'd stood with – her Friends, her three friends. She was too good for him, they'd said! Well, look now! he thought. She was headed towards him.
"Am-" His words stopped. His world stopped.
She'd walked past him.
She'd walked right past him.
Right towards The Success, standing behind him.
Everything spun. They stood too close. They talked about The Success' child. This wasn't right – they should be speaking to him! This wasn't how it had played out for him in his mind. This shouldn't be happening.
But The Beauty talked to The Success.
The Giver spoke to The Friends.
The Winner hung with The Jock.
And he… he, The Loser, he spoke with nobody.
Some things never changed.
Not unless he made them change.
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