Reverie

Chapter Two

"Larry!"

"Freak!"

"Loser Larry!"

The group of almost-seventeens taunt me as I pass by, completely ignoring them. My being almost a year younger than them means I'm much smaller. Just to clarify: my name is not Larry. It's Leo. Apparently Larry sounds so much derpier than Leo so that's what they call me. I've gotten used to people taunting me and I can completely block them out if I want. I weave through the narrow streets of the town towards home. Home is my sort of safe haven; the only place where I can be whoever I want to be. As the group starts following me, laughing loudly, I clench my fists to keep from letting all hell loose. I've got this huge advantage over them. I'm special, I keep telling myself. Different, yes, but special different.

There's a reason everyone hates me.

I get home and quickly shut the door behind me, blowing my longish, dark brown hair out of my eyes. Thank God that's over. Now, phase two of getting through the day.

"Leo!"

My mother appears in the kitchen doorway. She's a nice woman, praised by parents across the Cluster for ridding our schools of inadequacy. She's a little over fifty-one, but she still looks youthful. My father, on the other hand, looks like a wizened old grandpa. I love her as one does with their parents, but her perpetual nearness makes it difficult for me to go out or get anything done socially, and tends to make me mildly uncomfortable. Sometimes, I'll be staying after school to work on a project or something, and she'll literally just appear and go, "Hey Leo, how was school today? What did you learn? Is there any updates on you and her??" And I always just stand there like, "Mom. No. Stop. That is not your job. You're supposed to support me in my studies and give me food and shelter, not ask me about that girl in class who likes me."

My three younger sisters come swarming out from the hallway. Sometimes I really love them, and sometimes they make me want to shoot myself. Seeing them, my mother retreats to the living room. I have longer school hours than they do, and they're my responsibility from now until dinner.

Teresa is the eldest, but is still younger than me by two years. She's got fiery red hair, and I have to applaud my family's genetics for giving us such a diverse range of hair color. Mom was originally going to name her Phoenix, which I personally like better. Willow is exactly six minutes and twenty-eight seconds younger than Teresa. She's blonde -- again, I applaud my family's genetics. They have a bit of trouble convincing people they're twins, but they are. Joyce is younger than Willow by about a year and a half, making her sort of the baby of the family, even though she's long outgrown babyhood. She's got brown hair lighter than mine, and her face is still innocent and vaguely childish. The three of them always travel in a tight pack and sometimes squeak at random things. I try to ignore it, but let's be realistic: you can't ignore a high-pitched squeal of any sort.

My sisters swarm up to me, spewing questions about my school day. I've got this one teacher who is consistently stricter than the others, and they always want to hear about our small-scale rebellions.

"Guess what happened in class today?" I ask them.

Teresa has her hair in a ponytail, and it's swinging from side to side comically as she bounces. Joyce looks up from her book, grinning. Willow's greyish-blue eyes light up and she asks, "what? What what what what what??"

"We got seven people to sign out to the bathroom at the same time," I report. "And Andrew brought a huge box of cookies to class, and we would pass them out when she wasn't looking."

"Do you have any other funny stories?" Teresa prods me.

"How about ones in the locker room? Your locker room stories are always funny," Joyce adds, as Willow elbows her in the stomach.

Locker room stories!?

"...Andrew hit his head on a locker and almost passed out," I say after a pause.

Joyce looks disappointed. Willow gives her an "I told you not to" glance.

"I've got some homework I need to do," I say, quickly excusing myself from the situation. "I'll be in my room if you need anything."

I turn and quickly walk down the hallway. I hear Willow say, "Jo, why'd you say that?" As I close the door to my room.

The silence in the room is deafening but relieving at the same time. I exhale deeply, and focus my mind on the paperweight on my desk. My grandfather, who has since passed, gave it to me. It's glass, half blue and half green, and the colors swirl together in the middle to make a really pretty teal color.

A/N: Symbolism, yeah Sheep?

This is my huge advantage over everyone else.

The paperweight slowly rises off the desk. I hold the glass stone in the air, and turn to face my window, blocked out by thick blue curtains. They slide apart, letting in a ray of sunlight that strikes the stone at the perfect angle. I watch it spin slowly, the light shimmering through the teal glass and casting the colors on the floor. As I set the stone down, my mother comes in the door.

"Leo? Your father wants you to come to the living room. He'd like to speak with you."

Oooooooh cliffhanger (sort of) but yeah this chapter is so much longer than the first one I wasn't quite sure where I wanted to stop, but this is about half to two-thirds the length of my average short story... writing long pieces is so weird :P

-Ughrble