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Deceit- GerIta.Feliciano squirmed excitedly in his seat, looking out of the taxi window at the beautiful countryside. This was where Ludwig lived, where he’d grown up.Deceit- GerIta. by MystroTheDefender
This was so strange. After knowing him for a year, falling in love with him… It was strange being outside of a college set up.
He only hoped that Ludwig wouldn’t mind him dropping by.
Though, he knew Ludwig, and he’d probably be more upset that he’d spent all his savings on getting here rather than the fact he had come to see him.
He was so excited. He’d talked to the taller man about coming over during the summer and he’d seemed to enjoy the idea, however they’d made no official plans, so Feliciano had decided to just show up. He knew Ludwig would be there, for the whole week before college had ended he’d been talking about how much he was looking forward to spending a few weeks doing his hobbies at home.
He thanked the taxi driver as he got out of the car, paying him and pulling o
GerIta/Spamano. Dinner Date.Romano sat on the windowsill, looking down the driveway, waiting for his boyfriend’s dark coloured car to pull up.GerIta/Spamano. Dinner Date. by MystroTheDefender
He was annoyed, and rightly so, Antonio was over 20 minutes late, he was meant to come over to meet Feliciano and his new boyfriend, who were both in the kitchen cooking. He and Antonio were meant to be with them, but it felt weird for Romano to be in there on his own, watching his younger brother and his brutish German bastard of a boyfriend kissing and… touching each other. It was weird.
“I’m sure he’s fine, fratello,” Feliciano’s voice broke him from his trance, “He’ll be here soon.”
Romano turned his head, frowning, “I know he’s fine, Feliciano, I’m not worried about him… Bastard’s got a lot to answer for this time,” he pulled himself to his feet, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, “I told him to be on time,” he grit his teeth slightly,
I try frantically to clear my head, ‘imagine a meadow on a sunny day…’ I think to myself, repeating it. I don’t normally get flustered like this, but it is my first day at a new school; a situation that most young adults are intimidated by.
‘Should I take another pill?’ the thought popped into my head.
No, you shouldn’t.
See, I’ve already taken two of them, my doctor does say to take one if I feel overwhelmed, but I think three of them might be too many for one morning.
I count myself as an almost normal teen, only two reasons stop me from considering myself as completely normal. The first being that I am in foster care, (as mentioned in the pre-face) and the second being that I am incredibly smart (also mentioned in the pre-face).
There’s also the depression thing, but I don’t count that as being ‘un-normal’ – my doctor said that the statistics are something like 1 in 4 for mental illness. Whereas the statistics for kids-in-care are more like 58 in 10,000, and that is a big difference.
The smart thing seems to be a personal bias, but still, I’ll count that.
It’s because of these two things that I’m starting this new school, and also the reasons I’m so nervous; Ipsum North is quite a prestigious secondary school, the uniform alone cost my foster parents over one hundred pounds (holy hell right?!). So I guessed that the school would be filled with snobby teens, the sort that I normally can’t help making a snide comment towards, which normally results in me either getting in trouble with my ‘parents’ or getting myself beaten up(always the best part of my day).
I’m scared of making a bad first impression.
I inhale a deep breath as I slide open the old front door to enter the building; the opening hallway is a large, well-lit chasm, with wood panelling and pale green paint, I’m not the type to believe in ghosts, but this place has got to be haunted. I almost cough as the smell of old paper mixed with teenage sweat quickly fills my nostrils (Yuck), I clear my throat in an attempt to clear my head(as if that would work) as I walk down the hall to find my new classroom(yay!). Helen had told me that the form room was number 92. It took me about 5 minutes of searching to find it, she should really have given me better directions.
I can’t help but close my eyes as I knock on the door and wait for an answer, I’m invited in by an old-ish blonde haired guy(his eyes kinda creep me out, I don’t know why.), I assume this is the teacher. He tells me to stand in front of the class; I always found this the most humiliating part of the whole ‘new-school-routine’, it always makes me feel like a calf in a petting zoo or something. I comply and stand next to the teacher’s desk and look out at the students; some just look bored, some are chatting with their desk partners.
“Alright class!” The teacher yells in an attempt to get the class’ attention; it half worked, so the teacher starts talking in the hope that the rest of the class will begin to pay attention soon, “This is Zachary Baker, he’s a new student, I hope you’ll all make him feel welcome. Umm, let’s see…” He looked around the room, I could see people’s eyes darting away, not wanting to be the one stuck with the new kid (Social Suicide!).
He’s finally decided on someone, “Joey, I’m giving you the joyous task of looking after Mr Baker for his first week,” he points me toward a rather pretty brunette girl.
I pull out one of the empty plastic chairs and sit down, I swore I heard the girl whisper “For god’s sake…” before turning and smiling.
“Hi, Zachary wasn’t it?”
I smile as the teacher hands me a writing book, “Zach, actually. You’re Joey?”
She grunts happily and nods, “Short for Josephine, nice to meet you Zach. We’ve got science in 20 minutes, room 233, I’ll show you where it is, and you can hang out with my friends and me at break and lunch if you want,” as she speaks she shoots a large, fake smile at me, I hate fakery, but I’m determined to make friends at this school; it seems to me that because I’m a foster child and have no professional contacts, I don’t have as much of a chance of getting a high paying job in later life as these rich snobs do. This school is the perfect opportunity to meet someone who was from a rich, well-known family, now hopefully that person would be smart as well, but really, that would just be an added bonus.
I nod and am handed a few more brightly coloured books by the teacher, I flick through one of the textbooks as Joey starts to try and engage me in small talk, “So, how come you’ve moved here?”
I sigh lightly, I’ve always hated explaining how I’ve ended up in this mess; it’s only ever made people feel sorry for me, which is something I hate even more. “I’m in foster care, my new ‘family’s’ here, so I had to come here too.”
It appeared on her face; that look that makes my stomach turn, the one that says ‘Foster care? You poor boy.’
Joey cleared her throat, at first I think she might be thinking about what to say next, maybe avoid the subject, but no, she comes out with “Why are you in foster care? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I shake my head dismissively, “I’d rather not talk about it,” I realise this might stop the conversation altogether, so I quickly change the subject, “So what’s it like here, the teachers aren’t all like this bozo are they?”
Joey chuckled, “It’s alright, Mr Kole’s alright once you get used to him, you’ll love our English teacher, she’s amazing… And she’s quite pretty, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
I like Joey, I like her voice, it’s kinda girly, but a little deeper than I’d expect.
I’m a little confused: Joey seems to be moderately interesting; normally the person chosen to lead the new kid around the school would be either the teachers favourite student, or the ‘geek’ of the class. Joey doesn’t really seem to be either, and as we continue talking I notice that what was originally fakery, is starting turning into a slight, but genuine interest.
We leave the classroom a few minutes later, laughing at a joke Mr Kole had made; although it was not supposed to be a joke, it was still bloody funny. I blindly follow Joey as she leads me up some stairs, I’m trying to focus of not sounding like an idiot, and not falling over as we walk.
“233 is just round the corner at the top, here,” she turns as we reach the top of the stairs and she opens the door immediately to her right, she led me to my seat, between her and a tall, blonde haired boy. “This is Bruce, he’s my best friend, so be nice.”
I smile as I hold out my hand, “Zach Baker, nice to meet you.” Bruce takes my hand and shakes it firmly, nodding happily.
The lesson is centred on combustion, a subject I find incredibly fun, however I don’t get to participate in the practical part of the lesson (Damn it). The teacher, Mr Tracie, pulls me aside to ask ‘if I was doing all right’, “I know how the first day can be rather stressful, especially in your situation.” I find myself frowning; ‘your situation’…
He continues despite my obvious discomfort.
“I realise that being from a children’s care home, especially a poorly funded one, might make you feel self-conscious around all these public-schoolers, but-”
I cut him off there; I don’t buy into all that elitist sounding drivel.
“-Sir, I fail to see why my situation would make me anymore stressed. I’m fine, but thank you for your concern.” Mr Tracie smiles gloomily and tells me to go back to my seat, so much for getting people to like me.
I walk back to my seat and sit down, “He’s a little rude isn’t he. Did you hear him?” I mumble to Joey and Bruce, as they scribble down notes about the qualities of magnesium.
Joey looks up at me from her work “Yeah, subtlety’s not his strong point, not a nice person; he’s had Bruce on the verge of tears before.” Bruce’s jaw drops and he slaps Joey playfully on the arm “Oi, you’re not supposed to tell people that!”
It was the first time I had heard him speak; he had a lovely singsong voice that seemed to invite conversation. “Why was that then?” I asked, trying to not sound too interested.
Bruce shrugs, looking down at the floor “Nothing really, just some stupid thing.”
Joey chuckles, another oddly girly noise, “Bruce worked for ages on this project in year 7, and Mr Tracie said it was crap.”
Bruce starts to comb his hair with his fingers as he explains, “Actually he said ‘I’m going to give you an A because you’re obviously the only person here who didn’t get any help’…”
I laugh; I can’t help it, “Oh that’s horribly funny.” I start copying notes from Joey and try to strike up a conversation with Bruce, we seem to be getting along rather well until I wander onto the subject of Bruce’s home life and his answers start to become short and snarky- I don’t want to cause an argument on my first day, so I drop the topic. What I can guess from the answers Bruce gave me was that he is an only child from a rich family whose parents don’t pay a lot of attention to him. He seemed like the perfect person for me, as my contact. We have a lot in common and Bruce seems to have a nice ‘feel’ about him; trusting and friendly combined with intelligence, and not that snobby kind of intelligence that I had expected, but a sort of timid intelligence, as if he’s not aware of how smart he really is. He’s perfect. I smile as Bruce tells yet another terrible joke; “What do you get when you cross an elephant and a rhino? El-if-i-no.” The joke makes Joey laugh loudly (apparently she loves terrible jokes), coaxing a ‘Shhh’ from the teacher, we dipped our heads, almost synchronously, and we continue talking in hushed tones.
“How do you come up with those?” Joey whispers, grinning widely, “You have different ones every day, you can’t be making them up.”
Bruce chuckles (Singsong, love it!), he’s still scribbling notes in his incredibly neat script, “Mum and dad got me a new laptop after their trip to Sweden, I get downloads from a website.” I would make a comment about Bruce being spoiled, but I realise from the boy’s tone that it was a pity present, my best guess would be that the poor kid had been left pretty much on his own for a week or so, probably in the care of some semi-evil relative. It occurred to me that Bruce’s use of humour was as a defence mechanism – I know I do it myself. I smile to myself; Bruce really is perfect.
I’m getting ahead of myself now, I can’t help it, if I find someone who I like who’s nice in return, suddenly my mind starts thinking we’re best friends. God I’m an idiot.
I didn’t even realise I did this until after I started taking those mood equalisers.
If I were to cross one of my ‘best friends’ in the street they would ignore me. I didn’t realise that the reason they ignored me was because they didn’t care.
I guess I just kinda fade into the background, and one of the things about depression is that you want to fade into the background. You want to stop existing.
So it would suit me perfectly that people who I hung out with would treat me as if I didn’t exist.
But when I started taking the mood equalisers I realised the truth.
That I didn’t want to not exist.
So anyway, we fumbled our way through science, or more correctly; Bruce and I did the science and Joey fumbled.
Bruce would smile at Joey when she got something wrong, saying “Silly little rich girl,” in a playful baby voice. I could tell my presence was hampering the conversation, but I couldn’t really help that. I was determined to have some real friend so help me god!
“Bruce!” She says, frowning as she hits him playfully. This seems to be a normal practice between these two, gentle physical abuse. Is that normal, between friends? It’s not something I’ve heard of.
“Don’t be so sexist!” she continues.
“I’m not being sexist, just pointing out facts,” Bruce reaches out and tries to ruffle Joey’s hair, and she waves her arm furiously in an attempt to stop him.
Zach Baker POV.
Sins of the FatherI always knew I was adopted. It was the elephant in the room. My parents knew I knew, or at least suspected it, but never voiced it. Whether or not I was legally adopted was what I thought was the question. I assumed for the longest time that was the reason why no one mentioned it. I was wrong.Sins of the Father by DarthPoe
I was in sixth grade when I first began to wonder if I was adopted, the year my advanced science class started talking about biology and genes. I didn't possess my 'mom's' unruly red hair nor my 'dad's' preternaturally blue eyes. That day, I went home feeling like I was living with strangers and it really messed with me for a few weeks.
I began to wonder about my biological parents when I turned thirteen. I was heavily encouraged to join the track team or pick up a pen to write by my adoptive parents to displace negative emotions and pent up energy. Where these talents my biological parents possessed or were my adoptive parents just arbitrarily picking hobbies for me to try?
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