Vulneratis: The Stories of Christian Vanover

a pipe is not this.

Let's be real. I was a chubby 12 year old self conscious kid who bought a Kenny Holland song called "LifeLine". Either I was a social suicide case or something had to change. Not that I just changed I became someone else. I wasn't Christian I was Christian the funny,annoying,smart,cute kid who liked to help EVERYONE. I never wanted to be the kid who no one liked which is probably why I did half of the stuff I did. My sixth grade schedule was perfect besides the dreaded IM Math class. First hour was Malys a scary yet calming man who had a stash full of jolly ranchers and handed them out like scholarships to Yale. The good thing about first hour was it was one of the few classes Jorden and I had together. Having a class with Jorden was like having a class with a safety blanket. A trust fund. Insurance. And yes. It was a cost. He was my right hand.  Amongst others in this class I met Avery. The tall brunette who was shy and quiet. Remembering how we met is like remembering a dream you had when you were six.  Most of the dream is fuzzy but I do remember exchanging phone numbers. She made me laugh,she let me be me. Which in a school where you were constantly being watched felt like a much needed breath. My second hour was my IM math class. I walked into that class with my things shifted to the right side as if I was I was holding an old library style bible.  It was a free choice of where to sit. My Mom wanted me to learn, she wanted me to get better at Math so I could succeed in life. Or in reality. Be like Saniyah. My sister. My older "Golden Boy" sister. I chose the seat in the front third row down from Brisson's desk. "Okay" Brisson said clapping his hands as he usually did. "How was everyone's weekend?" he asked the silence ridden room. Brisson stared at us all like a puppy waiting for a bone. And someone threw him one. "I watched football" the kid in the row next to me said. "Oh me too" Brisson said excitedly, lying through his yellow teeth. "Oh do you know who won? I fell asleep" the same kid said. "Uhm no--I uh--erm" Brisson stuttered. "Oh probably the Spartan's, Michigan is trash." the kid said boastfully. His arrogance and disregard for anyone shined off of him like sunlight to a mirror. "Anyone else?" Brisson urged. The answers varied from going to Iowa and almost choking on a fly to flying to Cuba and meeting Selena Gomez. Kids lied everyone lies to make themselves sound better. Since I was born, I always knew. Your always better off with a really good lie. Which is what I did. "I played in a basketball tournament" I mumbled. Not that I lied I did play basketball just not that weekend and certainly not in a tournament. I played basketball in a church gym where the coaches were required to always teach us verses and virtues. I didn't play basketball I dribbled and shot a ball every Sunday with a team of shy,hyperactive kids. We had one special ed kid with autism. And trust me I'd rather pass the ball to him than my other teammates. "Come on,come on pass the ball to me" the kid with sports goggles shouted at me shuffling his feet like he was on a constant high. I throw the ball at his face hoping he won't catch it, he does.  Dribbling 6 feet above his head the kid who was called "NoLeto" loses the ball to the huge guys with anger issues that were our opponents.  After getting beaten and bruised by the team of guys who wanted to have blood on their hands we walked off to the bench where we were given stars on how well we played. " What position do you play" the boastful kid said. Not knowing any positions whatsoever I said "Uhm..the one that shoots the whole time, I don't memorize my positions" I lied on. "Okay let's get to some actual math." Brisson interrupts. Then suddenly I'm back, back in the sixth grade hallway walking towards Grace. "Hey Chrissy" she says as she usually does. "Hey" I say back suddenly at a loss for words. "Ready?" I ask followed by a sigh. " Yea" she replies back grabbing her math book. I walk alongside her as we enter into Mrs.Perdue's 6th grade math class. In the room that smelt of erasers and jolly ranchers I sit down next to the boy who was often my competitor. My enemy. My worst objective. My best friend. George Cannon. "Hey fatso" he says to me with a whisper. George wasn't my friend by choice. To fit in life you have to use your resources like a fly in a jungle. In order to survive the fly has to find water and food. It has to use it's skills to find leaves to eat and drink water from. George and many others were my leaves. "Hey buddy" I say followed with a sigh of agitation. We talked about the only things we ever had in common. Our church,our radio station and our sisters.  Despite George always having something out for me I continued to be his friend, not because he was nice to me or remotely my friend in anyway but because being "friends" with him made me more "popular". That day, I sat back and said nothing. Not because I was sad or mad with George, trust me being called "fatso" was one of the more childish names I'd been called since third grade until now. I didn't talk because I loved Grace, and so did George. But the huge difference was he was dating her and I wasn't. And there's my conflict, my drive for competing with George. Gracelyn Propes. "So, who's done with their warmup?" The lady with the braided ponytail and authentic clothing said. Her tanned face ear to ear with a smile. Several hands shot up but one voice spoke out. "Not I" the voice said. "Not like it's a huge shocker" the voice spoke again sarcastically. The class erupted with laughter. "Chrissy!" Grace said followed by a laugh. The voice was my own. Competing again. It was obvious who the class clown was. George. I was trying to be him once again, and when Grace said my name it gave me even more of a drive to beat George at a game he didn't even know he was playing. Mrs.Perdue took the joke as it was, a joke but I could tell she was half heartedly annoyed by the lack of the smile on her face. Class went on, the infamous clock ticked by and ticked by as irrelevant math was being taught and my brain focused on everything else. "Okay so now that you have your assignment, let's get started." Mrs.Perdue speaks making her way back to her crickedy chair.  I looked down at the paper that had just been passed out. A plethora of words and numbers filled the paper like a sea of math, that I was now drowning in. I was in total confusion. Not because the math was hard, but because I never cared enough to learn. Filling out the paper with random numbers I started to write a story I had just thought of in my head. Putting down a list of characters and starting to put down the plot. My heart sinks into my chest as Mrs.Perdue makes a mark on my math assignment. It started with one than two and before I know it my paper was filled with circles and lines and question marks in red ink. She whispered in my ear. "Don't you have Mr.Brisson to help you with this little issue" she said. "Yes" I replied trying not to have my voice quiver.  She walks past briskly making great remarks on others papers. I can feel my face go to a frown as the bell rings and I am left in my confusion watching my competition walk away with the girl that I loved. I am alone yet surrounded. Alone and happy. I walk past my locker onto my last hour of the day when I see the tall girl with thick long black hair wearing her usual "Pink" purple sweatshirt. This sweatshirt always had a "P" on it I always thought it stood for her name. Peyton. Peyton Beckham was her name. Our friendship started with a book.
"Okay I'm Mrs.Welch this is my first year teaching and I'm excited to be working with you guys" the short lady with straight lengthy blond hair spoke. "Obviously since it's the first day we're going to do some ice breaking activities" she spoke again. "Let's start with oh, wait flex time." she said assertively.  The class erupted with the question "What is flex time?" she answered with "Read for ten minutes at the beginning of fourth hour". I take out my fancy "Land of Stories" book. I call it fancy because of its flashy cover. A pair of twins falling out of the sky with four different characters on each corner. As I read the twisted prologue about a rogue and disturbed queen, with a heart of stone. Her heart was turned to stone by herself to shut out her feelings. "Are you sure you want to go in there you Highness" the book read on. "There's no telling what she's capa-" The book is snatched from my hands. Looking up I see the teacher working away at her computer. O her screen I find my picture then look next to mine. The girl with the black hair. Under her picture it reads "Peyton Beck--" I am cut off again as my pencil is now taken from desk and broken. My head snaps to the left of me and her hair is all I see. "Hey" I whisper in an annoyed tone. She turns her head to reveal a peach colored complexion with her long black hair she replies. "Oh is this yours?" she says half snarkely half jokingly. I put out my hand and let her read my facial expression. She laughs, making me smile along with her. "I need my book back" I say anxiously. She tosses it to me. I take her Twilight book and she scratches my hand. I laugh out loud. "What's your name" I ask with a grin from ear to ear. "Peyton" she says giving me back my pencil. "I'm Christian" I say feeling obligated. "I know, Avery is like my second bestfriend" she says with a "duh" sort of tone.  I reply with a shy and forced "cool".  "So why the pencil breaking?" I say feeling more comfortable. "Oh I don't know" she says laughing me off. Peyton was beautiful inside and out. Sadly I didn't know it and fell for her blonde she devil of a best friend. Skylar Munger. I knew her from 4th hour science. She was like a false tornado siren, something to scare you but not to destroy you. Like a dust storm, full of glass. She speaks softly, "Hey" she says with an exaggerated amount of Y's. She pulls up a chair next to Peyton not noticing me. They talk about any and everything losing track after speaking of their fifth grade year. "This is Christi" Peyton says jokingly. "Don't ever call me that" I say in retaliation. Taking major offense to this because of the now surfaced gay rumors, I stand there with a blank expression. "Woah" she says following with Skylars trend of holding out the last letter of every word. "Harsh, Christi" she says again her grin becoming wider. I want to retaliate by commenting on her, uhm. There is nothing to comment on. She is popular, beautiful, and hilarious. I am stuck, not knowing what to do, I bring out Christopher. "Y'all already know!" I say with a high pitched voice. The group erupts with laughter. "Eyelashes on fleek" she says focusing her attention to me instead of Skylar. I told you I am not myself. Not me. These estranged girls whom I hardly know and I'm grasping for their attention. Why? The thought of being that outcasted gay sounding fat kid was my worst overall fear. I didn't know it than but that day in fourth I'd met the only girl in the whole world who was there when no one was. And thank god. Because what I didn't know was the hell that was to come my way.