Summer Child [Stenbrough]

0.8

      • In which Stanley Uris spills blood, not words •

   Stan ran all the way home, tears blurring his vision. He was breathless with sobs, how could his only best friend do this? He got in the front door and neither of his parents were home. Not like they would even listen. He went upstairs to his mom's bathroom, grabbing her razor. He snapped it and grabbed the sharp blade. "You deserve this." He whispered to himself, holding the blade against his forearm. "You did this to yourself. You're pathetic." The sharp edge dug into his skin and he cut lines through both of his arms. Lines that would remind him of what he'd done. He was a fuck-up, a mistake.

   The blood spilled from the wounds as he hissed in pain, wrapping up the wounds with bandages. He threw the bloody blade away and felt the dull pain from beneath his bandages. He went to his room without a word and stared at the ceiling. He decided he would audition for the talent show next month and play the song he wrote about Bill and Bev. "Heather", he named it. He would have to teach himself not to cry during it. He felt tears, so he started to cry for the 3rd time that day.

A month later...

It was the night of the talent show. Stan was one of the lucky few who got in (he played one of the judge's favorite songs on his guitar, so it was a shoo-in basically). The Losers had all come (including Bill and Bev to his dismay). He grabbed his guitar case out of Richie's car and waved to them as he walked to the back entrance. In there was quite a few students, a couple he knew but not personally. He sat down and opened his case, tuning the guitar. He strummed a few chords to warm up, as he would be going on last. A few people complimented his skills, and he thanked them, smiling.

It was never a real smile though. He touched the jagged scars on his arms with a small wince, they still hurt a little even after a month. To cover them up, he had decided to wear a green, blue, and white plaid jacket and light boyfriend jeans. He had a black beanie on as well to compliment the look. He took his mind off of everything as the announcer began to call kids to the stage. First went the chorus, who did pretty well in his opinion. Next was someone who could balance four apples on their head, which Stan always thought impossible.

An hour passed, and finally it was his turn. The grand finale. "And now, please welcome..Stanley Uris to the stage! He will be showing off his guitar and songwriting skills." Stan walked out from behind the curtain, guitar in hand. He was a little nervous, but he put that away as he spotted Bill and Bev. His heart sank but he dealt with it. He set up his stand and stool, before sitting and beginning to strum the opening notes. Then it was his time to sing.

"I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater
You said it looked better on me than it did you
Only if you knew how much I liked you
But I watch your eyes as she walks by
What a sight for sore eyes
Brighter than the blue sky
She's got you mesmerized while I die.."

He took a breath and started to sing this part with passion.

"Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half as pretty
You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester
But you like her better
Wish I were Heather.."

At this part, he strummed a few silenced notes and glanced at the crowd. A lot of them were in surprise or shock. He began again, taking a deep breath.

"Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand
Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder
But how could I hate her? She's such an angel
But then again, kinda wish she were dead as she walks by
What a sight for sore eyes
Brighter than the blue sky
She's got you mesmerized while I die.."

He took another breath, getting ready to put passion into this part again. He noticed the audience taking videos and swaying along with their phone flashlights. He smiled slightly and began singing again.

"Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half as pretty
You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester
But you like her better.."
He screamed the next part with as much as he could muster, feeling the pain and hurt put into this song.

"I wish I were Heather!!
I wish I were Heather..
(Oh, oh)
Wish I were Heather.."

He strummed a few more notes before softly singing again, nearing the end of the song. The audience was in awe with how much power he was putting into this.

"Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half as pretty
You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester
But you like her better
Wish I were.."

He strummed the finishing song, crying a little bit. The audience stood up and gave him a standing ovation, loud cheers echoing around him. He glanced at Bill, who understood the real meaning and looked like he had had his heart broken. "Welcome to the club, motherfucker." He whispered silently. He stood up and bowed, bathing in the clapping and whooping coming from the crowd beneath him. Some people were calling for an encore, but time was up and people were starting to leave. The rest of the Losers were cheering very loudly, Richie was bouncing on the back of someone's chair. He put up his stand and guitar, walking out.

Stan went up to Bill outside, Bill giving him an eye roll. "What do you want." Stan turned him around. "Bill, we need—" He shook his head. "There's nothing to say. Oh, except.."

"I fucking hate your guts."