Jacob Portman's Point Of View
Ever since I was a little boy, people have told me they loved my eyes.
"Wow, your eyes are spectacular!"
"Beautiful!"
"Amazing! Such bright and vivid colors!"
To me, they are just my eyes. I can't see them, so the colors don't mean anything to me. To everyone else, they are jewels, precious treasure, that had to be acknowledged and complimented every time they were in sight.
Sure, having two different colored eyes is rare, but I don't like how my family obsesses over it. It's quite peculiar how they like my eyes so much, while no one else likes them at all. In fact, nearly everyone at my school makes fun of them, but I can't change what color my eyes are! It's not like anything is wrong with me... Right?
I inherited part of my eye color from my grandfather, Abraham Portman. His eyes had gotten damaged in a blast back in 1943, while he was fighting in the war, and it had permanently altered the DNA in both of his iris, which is the part of the eye that holds the pigment. His eyes turned a deep royal blue, which everyone is surprised about, because when scientists reviewed the blast structure, they revealed that my grandfather should have gone blind, and his eyes should have turned a dull gray.
Doctors don't know what happened, but my grandfather's vitals never changed. He was completely normal on the outside, like the blast had never occurred. On the inside, however, he wasn't stable. All of my grandfather's friends and basically everyone that he knew was killed in the blast, he was the only one to escape. It took decades of therapy, resulting in my grandfather finally returning to his previous self, getting married to a beautiful woman with bright green emerald eyes, and having a child. That child, my father, was born with the woman's bright green eyes, and lived a normal life, with normal eyes.
The bright green DNA from my father mixed with the royal blue DNA from my grandfather, and it created me, and all of my worries and problems.
Sometimes, I tell people that I'm wearing two different colored contacts. It's a reasonable excuse, until I find a way to screw up the lie. A thing about me; I'm a horrible liar. I can't lie about anything, from my eyes, to my grades, to my deepest and darkest secrets.
My name is Jacob Portman, and I'm sixteen years old. I was born in London, but I live in Florida now, working for my mother's regular, basic, old, boring retail store. My father spends most of his money on cameras and takes pictures of wild and exotic birds, and my grandfather... Well, he doesn't do much. But he's always been around for me, more than either of my parents have, which I appreciate with all my heart. Not many people are here when I need them, for I don't have very many friends. The ones that I do have, aren't very happy around me.
Ricky, my best friend from fourth grade, has bright green hair, lots of piercings, and smokes basically every drug there is. He drinks a lot of alcohol, and sleeps in his truck every night. He works at the store with me, but my parents don't quite understand why I consider him my friend, and being completely honest, neither do I at times. He's like an older brother to me, he drives me around and looks out for me when I need his help, some of the time.
Then, there's Shelly, a middle-aged woman who works at my mother's store. We're always trying to find ways to get fired together, but my mom just won't let us go. Probably because she knows no one else will take the job. Shelly is nice to me, but it's definitely strange to be friends with someone double- well, triple your age.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/86092189-288-k542514.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
Eyes Of A Peculiar
Mystery / Thriller"We cling to our fairytales until the price for believing them becomes too high," My Grandfather would whisper to me every night after reading me a story. I would laugh, not understanding what it meant, and he would give me this look- almost sympath...