The Longer I Live

Chapter 6: Yeah, Worming is One of My Skills

"Stiles! I need your opinion on something!"

Stiles dug into his Captain Crunch breakfast as his mother Victoria came down the stairs with a stack of papers in her hand. Realizing that they were a series of photographic sheets, the lad peered over his bowl to stare at the fashion pictures placed in front of him on the table. His mother was the manager of a popular, trendy woman's boutique in downtown Beacon Hills and the young man knew she wanted fashion advice.

"I need your expert opinion," said Victoria. "The owner of the boutique wants to add a men's line in order to attract the teen males into the store so I'm asking which clothes you buy for yourself."

"Why don't you ask Allison?" Stiles asked munching on his cereal. "She's more into this?"

"She's not a guy," the red headed woman stated. "Plus, she's not gay...er gazing at trends so closely nowadays especially with her preoccupation with cheerleading."

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her elusive comment. "Did you say gay?"

Victoria frowned changing the subject. "No. I didn't. I said gazing."

He dropped is spoon. "Wait a minute, Mom. What are you implying?"

She shook her head. "I'm not implying anything. Unless...there's something you want to tell me? You know, Stiles, your father and I love you no matter what..."

"RVCA!"

"What?" Victoria shifted her head.

"RVCA," answered Stiles. "The brand in the photograph. It's popular among the skater and emo crowds, maybe a few hipsters. Its simple letter printing and various t-shirt colors are what's in. Then again, you can never go wrong with Volcom. For your beach casual group, O'Neill and Quicksilver is still popular so tell the owner to invest in a few tees, hoodies, and board shorts. Are we done now?"

"Thank you," she replied disappointed that he did not answer the latter part of her question. Gathering her photographs, Victoria tucked them into her briefcase. "Other than that, how are things with you?"

"Are we doing the whole parent bonding thing now?" Stiles rolled his eyes. "Cause, I have to tell you that we don't need Dr. Phil."

"Note taken," his mother nodded. "As a mother, it's my job to worry Stiles. The cancer. How it is affecting you, your sister, your father, me. I'm the leader of this family dammit! It's my role!" A small tear fell from her dropped from her eye.

Stiles stood up hug her. "Mom, it's okay! I'm hanging in there! I'm taking the medication and it's helping until I start radiation therapy next month. You got nothing to worry about."

"I know," she sniffed. "I'm your mother. It's my job to worry."

"I promise you I'm doing fine," he reassured her. "In fact, I'm working on an afterschool project."

"Really?" Victoria inquired pouring a pot of coffee into her mug.

"Here's the truth, Mom," explained Stiles. "Due to my...uh...illness, my schoolwork in history suffered a little. My teacher offered me an alternative this semester by writing a research paper on one of the local Native American tribes and as a bonus he's integrated my projects in my art class."

"That's wonderful!" His mother smiled. "I didn't know Beacon Hills had a Native American tribe nearby."

"They're called the Aeiwa," he said. "It's a long story but the founding fathers of Beacon Hills refuse to acknowledge them due to some history of bad blood. Anyway, I met with their rep yesterday and she's been helping me with this assignment."