Potential Anatomy

Chapter 4

Sitting at a bench I look over at the mountain. Stowe Mountain. It's a beautiful thing. Fresh and clean water coming down the streams. So sweet during the winter. Mr.Hast across from me finishing his ice cream which he can't do without making a noise of appreciation.
"You make some nice art. And ice cream." he states as he throws the cone away. Who doesn't eat a cone? Waster. Like most rich people. Shaking my head I look at him.
"This is exactly what I mean." I scoff as he looks up at me with a brow raised.
"You rich people are complete wasters. If you didn't want a Blasted cone you should have ordered it in a bloody cup." I scowl clenching my fists together. "Some kid could have enjoyed that cone! Some kid who doesn't make much money. Just like us. " Gesturing my hand at the Creamie shop I sigh rubbing my face.

As I look back at him hes smiling at me. What the bloody hell is he staring at? And why is he smiling?
"Are your face muscles cramping or is there a particular reason you find me funny?" His smile broadens and his teeth are bright. Clean. Rich.
"Youre very passionate about this whole poverty thing aren't you?"

"Youre passionate about your damned business and money are you not?" I said sweetly batting my eyes as his eyes narrowed at me.
"I'm as passionate about Poverty and Civil humanity as you are about your businesses and money." I state.
"How? I just don't understand." Hes frowning now and stares at me. Is he really intrigued about all of this?
Maybe I should give him one of my speeches then he'd understand...
Bloody hell just do it and get it over with.
"Fine," I started as I leaned onto the table and crossed my leg. "Think about it this way. Close your eyes and I do hope that you have a good imagination." He frowns but then closes his eyes sighing. "I don't see how-" he starts.
"Shut up." I snap as he closes his mouth.
"Now imagine. A little boy running around in dirty clothes. A tear in the knee of his pants, stitches on his shirt, dirt on his face, worn shoes, and socks that aren't white, but gray and dirty. Now picture a little girl. Dressed in a pretty pink dress. Freshly showered, hair pampered, new shoes on. Stockings that have not a Knick on them. "

"I don't understand where this is going but yes I can see it."

"Then hush and listen," I snap as he frowns and I close my eyes too, imagining the same thing.
"Now imagine an apartment complex. Half of the complex is painted white, new windows, new fire escape, new flowers, everything new. The other half, has bricks, chipped and broken, the complex is cracked, the fire escape is rusted, paint chipping off, AC units sticking from the windows, single windows, some cracked or covered with boards. Screens falling out," taking a breath I open my eyes. "Which apartment do you think holds each kid?"

"Easy," he opens his eyes and looks at me. "The girl lives in the well kept apartment, and the boy lives in the apartment That's broken down." He smirks proud of his answer as I smile at him and shake my head.

"Wrong." I state dead pan as he frowns and looks at me.
"What?" He asks.

"The little boy lives in the well kept home, while the little girl lives in the broken down."

He frowns and leans onto the picnic table "How do you figure?" He looks intrigued. It's kind of funny.

"Well," I start again leaning onto the picnic table more.
"While the little boy is in dirty clothes. His parents are working constantly not paying attention to him. Being rich, the nanny stitches up his clothes, which are dirty, stained and to small, while his parents are to into there own lives to pay attention to him."

"Now that's stereotypical." He states with a frown as I frown deeply.

"Wanna bet?" I growl as he looks at me his frown disappearing.

"The girl was me. The little boy was one of my best friends who committed suicide because his rich parents never paid any fucking attention to him!" I snap. "My parents wanted me happy even if we didn't have the fucking money. They made sure I had a meal to eat even if it meant they were to starve. They made sure I had clothes to wear and that I was clean even though they barely had the money to pay the bills. I think I fucking know." Growling I stand up from the table.

"If you really want to send me to jail. Call the fucking cops. My break is over. Good day Mr.Hast." turning I walk away going back into the Creamie shop.
Slowly I sink to the floor as I hear Mr.Hast start his car and take off.
Then... The tears came. I was crying. Why'd you have to bring that up idiot.
Because if not he wouldn't understand. No one ever understands and he wanted a explanation so he got one. Arrogant bastard.
Avery walked over and sat next to me wrapping an arm around me as I cried. I miss my best friend. The only guy I ever cared about. The only friend who was a guy. Never will I ever have a guy friend. That's what makes him special... That's what made him my friend. That's what made him Tyler Hoyt.

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Later that night I walked into my house, throwing my keys on the one table next to the door. I walked over to my couch and laid down. Even if it was tethered and torn, it made me happy. It made me remember who I was. Remember my goals. I didn't want people to be rich, I didn't want people to be poor. I wanted everyone to be seen as a equal. Was it much to ask for? I don't believe it is. I didn't want people to end up like Tyler Hoyt, nor did I want people to end up like my parents. I wanted everyone to be happy, kids, parents, rich and poor. I wanted everyone to be equal. But no one ever listens. This isn't a world filled with equals, this is a world full of "tax payers" and "tax getters." Simple. The world was not equal. But I'm going to change this. Sitting up on the couch I stood and walked to my art/computer room. I won't do this for my benefit. "I'm doing this for you Tyler." I close my door and get to work.