Drift (Drift Series) Read online

  Drift

  By Michael Dean

  Drift

  Copyright © 2013 by Michael Dean. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: November 2013

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1493756063

  ISBN-10: 1493756060

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  ~Dedication~

  Drift is dedicated to those I grew up with.

  You are loved and are my inspiration for this story.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 1

  ENDURE

  Par for the course, sleep evaded me as usual.

  A complete night’s rest has never been a friend to me, more like a distant relative; I’ve heard of it, but we’ve never met. But I’m always on time for school and never have to be rudely awakened by an angry parent. That might be a good thing if I had a family who were actually around. That’s a nice thought, having a taste of normalcy in an abnormal existence. So goes the life of a vagabond.

  Tonight I am listening to my iPod up in my favorite tree, about to sample a concoction I just came up with. Trust me when I say I’m not bragging on it. I mixed a packet of hot taco sauce into a bowl of ramen noodles. I’ve even named it, I call it poverty. This is something I usually do on these restless but quiet nights, not the cuisine de ramen, the jamming out to the sweet sounds of rock music. Okay, okay, it’s quiet enough. With my back propped against the tree trunk and my legs crossed and outstretched on the sturdy branch beneath me, my mind sways in chorus to the music while I stare down at the twinkling town below, choking down my hot mess of a meal and thinking about Darryl Kite, the popular town jerk-off who was having another party this weekend. That dude really gets under my skin. Unlike the other people in school, I wasn’t looking forward to his engagement. Not solely because I feel like a social leper around large groups of people, but because I’m being bullied into doing something I really don’t want to do. It literally turns my stomach to have to help out such a raving idiot like Darryl. Why would I help someone I hate, one may ask? I do it all the time. Walk a mile in my shoes and find out.

  I have to admit though, what I think about most is his stunning girlfriend, Shade Lewis, the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty who sits two rows to my left in one of my classes. She has the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. The thought of her is the only thing that gives my soul an emotional backdrop of peace. That’s why I’m so torn about helping Darryl hurt her in order to fulfill his own selfish needs. I wish it was as easy as just saying no, but it isn’t.

  Dwelling on my multiple dilemmas occupied my mind from dusk till dawn. Once again I’ve sat through the night, bearing witness to another beautiful Colorado sunrise peering over the snow-capped tops of the Eagle Peak mountain range. A sliver of warmth enters my chilled shell every time I see one. Makes me feel a part of something, unlike the way I feel about life in general and at school, sitting mute in the back of almost every class. I hate this life. At least I have one friend though, well, two, kind of, and that counts for something, I guess.

  I just wish being Leo Cutler was as ordinary as this place, Mountainside, that I dwell in; a simple small town with small town values; family, friends, faith, and not necessarily always in that order.

  No matter, it was time to close out another night in seclusion. Like most high school seniors, I have an English test on poetic writing to prepare for in Mrs. Duncan’s class this morning. I have to write an essay from a questionnaire about the poetic short stories of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I will be extracting from the tale what lessons modern society can learn from one of his works, The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner. This should be really easy for me to relate to considering that the story is about the captain of a ship who commits a sin by killing a bird of good omen, an albatross. To make a long story short, after the mariner and his shipmates experience horrors at sea because of this act, he gets saved, and as penance for his crime on the bird, he is forced to retell his tale to anyone he meets for the rest of his life. In doing so, he may save his soul. Moral of the story, we should love all things, big and small.

  I feel like the mariner in my life, forever paying a penance for a crime I committed long ago. Like him, I am alone, doomed to a destiny of solitude. A life lived without love or being loved. The only advantage the mariner has over my situation is that he can still save his soul. Anyway, this should be a simple essay.

  I hopped off my tree and got myself cleaned up. With not a bite of breakfast, as usual, I got into my car and took off for school. Even though I always have a jump on time every morning, it seems like I’m always sprinting to Mrs. Duncan’s class in order to make it on time. Maybe it’s because of the sinking feeling in the pit of my gut, like an impending doom with every inch I get closer to school that makes my foot light on the accelerator, only to feel like both feet suddenly get weighted down by concrete when I get out of my car, causing me to drag butt to class. But today I managed to make it with a few minutes to spare. Sitting with my hands in my lap and my eyes on my desk, avoiding eye contact with everyone, I took a sneak peek up to watch the classic beauty Shade—a true girl next door—stroll in. Today she was wearing a baggy T-shirt with tight jeans that had designer sparkles sewn onto the butt. It’s worth pointing out, just for my own satisfaction, that I most enjoy the days when she wears tight skirts with form fitting tops. Either way, she always looks gorgeous to me.

  Shade slid her bag off her shoulder, allowing it to plop onto the floor beside her desk. She got on her knees to unzip the pack and pulled her English book out of it. After setting what she needed on top of her desk, she fiercely stuffed her bag in the book tray that hangs beneath her seat. I giggled under my breath because her MP3 ear buds fell out, causing her to fumble around, stuffing them back inside before the teacher could catch her with them. She’s too cute.

  More than anything, I’m fascinated by her movements and expressions. She has more beauty that bursts out from within her than she could possibly know. Maybe it’s the way she pulls her front bangs behind her ear when she leans over a book, or maybe it’s her plump lips wrapping around the eraser of her pencil as her teeth lightly chew on the tip that makes me squirm with excitement. There are times when she catches me staring and we lock eyes briefly. In a true shy boy fashion, feeling as if I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar, my eyes jump back down to the work upon my desk. Sometimes I feel her staring for a few extra seconds after I turn my eyes away. I can never be certain though, as I lack the courage to take a second glance.

  Here I was, once again, a harmless stalker basking in her glow. I finished my essay a few minutes before Shade and watched her slide her hands through her hair in frustration. Her a
ppeal is irresistible, even when she’s flustered. Before I slid too deep into the essence that is Shade for another morning, a rude and disruptive smack came across the middle of my back, releasing me from my daydreaming and stealing my breath. The slap echoed across the classroom. Our teacher raised her eyes from the book she was reading and gave us all a stern “sssshhhuuuuusssssshhh.”

  It was Mark, my friend who sat in the seat next to me, one row over to my right. He was obviously trying to get my attention.

  He leaned over the top of his desk and whispered, “Leo, my boy, you play a dangerous game. You better pull your head out of Shade’s cute butt and pay attention to me for a sec, bro.”

  Mark Spears is someone with whom I spend a good amount of time with in and out of school. We also go to parties together; those that I actually decide to attend. I guess to a normal person he would be considered a best friend. I have nicknamed him Scruffy. Not because he is dirty or anything, but more because he always has this sleepy look on his face and over the course of a day his hair has a tendency to get real frizzy and out of place, like he just rolled out of bed. Another comical attribute that adds to his nickname is the fact that he’s extremely uncoordinated. Although Mark is a very bright guy, he just isn’t the type of guy you wanna pass the ball to on a basketball court, or even pick for your team. It will hit him in the face before he raises his arms fast enough to catch the ball. Like I said, he’s intelligent as well as energetic; it’s just that he acts like a doof, so it makes him seem a little slow to someone who may not know him. It is just the way he is; he can’t help himself.

  “Darryl will knock the hell out of you if he catches you checking out his lady. We all know that fool gets real jealous, man.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Darryl worries me about as much as a cloudy day. How does a jerk like him get to date a girl like Shade, anyway?” I replied quietly as I faced Scruffy.

  “I don’t know. But what I do know is that you better worry about him if you’re going to continue to check out his chick. I heard he sent that guy from Singleton High School to the hospital just for offering her a drink at that party a couple of months back. That guy’s temper sucks. Add alcohol with a splash of jealousy to the equation and Darryl becomes a flat out monster, especially when it comes to Shade. You know what I mean?” Scruffy raised his eyebrows, adding to the seriousness on his face.

  “Trust me…I know exactly what you mean.”

  “Look, Leo, just don’t get caught doing that ‘googly eyes’ crap to Shade at his party or I might be scraping you off his driveway,” Scruffy joked a little louder than a whisper, then he slapped me on my back again.

  “Whatever, man.” I rolled my eyes. “And stop slapping me!” He snickered, forgetting the test was still going on around us.

  “After class, gentlemen!” The teacher’s booming voice bounced off the classroom walls, drawing every set of eyes to us, triggering a few sounds of spontaneous laughter from our classmates.

  “Sorry,” we both replied and promptly turned back towards the front of the classroom, waiting for class to end. I looked over at Shade to see if she was one of the giggles we heard. She was smiling at us as she got up to turn in her test.

  Class ended minutes later and Scruffy wasted no time in coordinating our weekend as we hustled into the hallway.

  “So, I’m riding with you Friday and Saturday night, right?” Scruffy approached my side.

  “Thanks for planning out my weekend, Scruff.”

  “No problem.”

  “What’s going on Friday? I knew about Saturday but haven’t heard of a party for Friday night.”

  Shade brushed up against my arm, hurrying past us on her way to her next class.

  “Focus.” He pulled my shirt to stop me from watching Shade walk in front of us. “Nothing really, just some of us are going to be at the BNB hangin’ out, seeing if anything materializes.”

  BNB is a burger joint called Burger n Beans. The abbreviation is our lame attempt at making the place sound cooler than it really is. It’s a popular hangout spot, kind of like a modern day carhop where you pull up and order a meal without getting out of your vehicle, although we always get out. After ordering, a waiter or waitress comes out to your car on skates and delivers your food. It can be a lively spot on any night of the week for the most part. A lot of kids from school hang out there to eat, meet, and greet, so to say. I’ve been there once or twice, only because Scruffy forced me to. They crank their radios and sit on the hoods of their cars and chat with whoever might show up. A lot of the parties are organized at BNB’s, thus making it the main reason people go there. Whatever we do when I’m present makes no difference to me, anyway. I just play the social game and do what I have to do to pass the time.

  “Besides having the pleasure of chillin’ with me, I overheard Shade talking to a couple of her friends about being there on Friday. You can sit in your car like a chump and get all the eyefuls you want of her. Is that enough incentive for ya, Leo?” Scruffy antagonized me with a laugh.

  “Shut the hell up, man.”

  “Then it’s settled—you, me, and that piece of crap you call a car on Friday night, then?”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” I winked at him.

  “Cool, man, it’s a man-date. I’ll catch you later on.” He shook my hand and darted down the hallway to his next class.

  Scruffy loves to call my sexy black Ford Mustang Cobra a piece of junk. It’s one of those things we all do with a buddy; tease them about something we wish we had. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have a car at all, or maybe he just enjoys giving his pal a hard time, I don’t know. It’s not like Scruff’s family has fistfuls of dollars like Darryl Kite’s parents, but they aren’t broke and nowhere near as cynical. I think Scruffy needs to get his butt in gear and find a job so I don’t have to pick him up all the time. Plus, I want to be able to bust his chops on his ride when gets one, if he ever does.

  He was right about one thing; I probably would just sit and stare at Shade. Realistically, that’s all I can do. Not because of Darryl, I’m just not supposed to get too involved, according to the rules of things in reference to myself.

  When the school day came to an end, I was heading out to my car when I caught a glimpse of Darryl and Shade. He was attempting to give her a kiss goodbye while his “crew” leaned against his new Camaro. By the look on Shade’s face it seemed that she wasn’t exactly thrilled about kissing him back. He leaned in to kiss her and she turned away from him. He kept lightly pulling her arm into his chest, trying to get what he wanted. It looked like he was pleading with her. Shade’s body language was flustered and finally Darryl gave up, letting her leave.

  I felt guilty about my silent involvement between the embattled couple. I’m not supposed to feel this…guilt. I knew what was coming up on Saturday night, maybe these feelings will settle so I can complete my work with Darryl.

  I slapped the hood of my car and took off for home so I could hang out at my spot for the rest of the evening to choke down a little more private time. I needed to figure out what I was going to wear for the weekend’s big festivities.

  I pulled up to my place and hopped out of my car. Walking up my driveway, it’s hard to miss this huge oak tree that has recently been dying, much to my dismay, next to my home. It towers over the lot and it’s my favorite object here. All the branches straggle out here and there, looking like a handful of thick, twisted arms, dangling off the main trunk. There are no leaves whatsoever, being that it’s dying, and I like to perch myself high up in the tree on a particular branch. It’s the thickest of the branches on the oak at almost the highest point. This is where I always sit.

  Tonight wouldn’t be any different. I climbed my tree, got comfortable, and gazed down at town, pondering how to make sure everything went smoothly at Darryl’s party. What I wore and what I looked like were important, but were the least of my worries. If I fail at my real reason for going to the party, Christian would surely seek my demise. Christian
is my bully. There was no doubt in my mind that he would make sure I was finished.

  Below, friendly claws scratched the bark of the oak tree. It was my black stray cat climbing up to see me; I have named him Shadow. Shadow’s nightly ritual is to sit next to me on my branch and soak up the views with me. It’s strange; every animal I have ever come across hates my very presence—except for Shadow. I don’t seem to bother him at all and I’m thankful he’s around.

  “Hey, my friend.” I greeted him with a pat.

  Shadow is my other best friend, and that’s where my short line of friends stops. I look forward to his company. To show my appreciation for his acceptance of me, I leave a bowl of food and water up on the branch for him. I think because we are both strays in a sense, we cling to each other for friendship instead of being alone all the time.

  In his usual way, he said hello by rubbing against me before nibbling his food. I petted him as he ate and my thoughts about what to wear to the party, Darryl, Shade, and whatever else hit my brain, turned to worries about Christian. I can see Christian’s damning eyes in my head, constantly belittling me when I have the misfortune to confront him from time to time. His angry, condemning stare pierces through me. Therefore, I do whatever he asks in order to make sure he stays calm. Only Shade’s beautiful face popping in and out of my mind breaks me from my constant worry about him. My fear of him always overshadows everything else on my mind. These thoughts of her give me brief moments of inner peace and hope.

  But even these thoughts of her lead to more bothering questions about who I truly am; why do I care about her? More importantly, how is it that I can feel an emotion like concern? One question always leads to another, an inner dialogue that I can never escape.

  How can I atone for the sins of my past if I don’t know what I did to begin with? How do I know when I crossed the line between good evil when it has always been invisible? Somewhere there are answers for me, but I fear no one will hear my questions. It is this very condition I have that isolates me from others like myself. These clusters of thoughts are just as confusing to live as they are to think about. I guess what it all comes down to is how much do I really matter in this human world?