Word Count: 3834
Summary: David Desrosiers isn't your typical sixteen year old boy living in Juneau, Alaska. Bullied relentlessly by Pierre Bouvier, a boy he's known since elementary school, David and his best friend Jenny come up with a back-handed plan to seek revenge on the boy who makes their lives a living Hell.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, didn't happen!
Author's Note: New story! I'm excited about this one. :)
David Desrosiers was not what you would call your average teenage boy. Sixteen and holding onto his virginity, that alone set him apart from the crowd, though that one attribute was far down on the list of things that made the boy stand out from his peers. Born and raised in Juneau, Alaska, David didn't grow up doing the same things that the other boys in town did. Playing catch with friends wasn't something anyone could say they had ever seen him do and video games were far from what the boy would consider his perfect evening. While most of the boys in the city were content to hike, camp, fish and throw a football back and forth, David preferred to spend his time with his best and only friend, Jenny... when he wasn't drawing up new designs for clothing or fashioning entire outfits with nothing more than a few bolts of fabric, a sewing machine and his own mind. Yes, it was easy to say that the young teen was a little bit different, something which got him more than his fair share of negative attention from his peers.
From a young age, David was bullied on an almost-daily basis. Standing out from the crowd could either have wonderful rewards or harsh consequences and unfortunately for David, he got nothing but heat for the way he acted, dressed and thought. He often described himself as a gold-fish in a sea of grey, surrounded entirely by people who were too afraid to step out of the box and express who they truly were and what they secretly loved. Though he could have been broken down early on by the relentless teasing, instead David found strength in it. He was proud to be different. He was proud to be bold. He was proud to be strong. He was proud to be himself. Nothing that anyone said could ever take that away from him; this was something he would firmly assert until the day he died.
That being said, David wasn't an idiot. For years he had endured taunts and insults, had the words “faggot” and “fairy” thrown mercilessly at him without merit, and though he never did anything to deny them, not once did he make the effort to confirm the validity of those rumors. Yes, it was true. Yes, David was gay. Was he ashamed of it? Did he think there was anything wrong with himself? Did he ever want to change that about himself, even if only to make his life easier? Not in the slightest. David was proud to know that he was open minded to love, that he would never turn a person away whose heart called to him just because they happened to share a gender. Technically speaking, David didn't consider himself gay at all, though he had never once experienced attraction to a woman. He deduced that he was attracted only to men, though he also knew that if he found himself falling for a woman, he would never turn on his own feelings just because he was “gay”. To put it simply, David Desrosiers was in love with love... How could that ever be wrong?
He woke up at 6:15 that mid-September morning, not wanting to leave the warmth of his bed but not wanting to show up at school un-showered and un-prepared for the day. A lot could be said about a person's morning ritual and David's was rigid. Up every morning at 6:15, out of the shower by 6:30, in his outfit by 6:40, done with his hair by 6:55, breakfast made and consumed by 7:15, out the door by no later than 7:30 and sitting in his desk, ready to start the day in time for school to start at 8:00. That morning was no different than any other morning.
David didn't think about much as he showered, allowing his body to run on auto-pilot and his mind to relax while he slowly woke up. By the time he was out of the shower and drying off, David was starting to take in his surroundings and register them, a sign that his brain was coming to life, and when he found himself dressed in a long sleeved, beige, henley t-shirt, a black, three-button vest, dark blue skinny jeans and a pair of plain black converse, David's mind was fully functioning. He styled his short black hair in a messy fashion, making it look thick, shiny and slightly wavy, and his hazel eyes were accented with the lightest touch of eyeliner, not enough to be easily noticed but enough to make his eyes pop; if anything, it simply made his eyelashes look thicker and darker. As he pushed himself away from the bathroom counter and made his way to the kitchen to make himself a bowl of oatmeal and a pot of coffee, David was confident in the way he looked. Sure, no one else would appreciate how beautiful he was, but he was happy and that was all that mattered to him.
His three-bedroom house felt cold and empty to David. He thought it held an air of neglect, as if no one actually lived there, though considering he was alone in the house more often than not, he supposed it wasn't surprising. David's father was one of the many commercial fishermen in Alaska, and though the money was good and David never found himself wanting for anything, it left him alone in the house for months at a time. Perhaps had his mother still been alive, he wouldn't have minded his father's long absences (sometimes lasting several months at a time). With her gone, however, David found himself feeling lonely and spent most nights alone and silent.
He had taken to listening to music almost constantly to fill the silence, or watching romantic comedies and quoting them word for word, just so that he could feel that he might salvage a shred of his sanity. Sometimes he found himself talking out loud to himself and laughing at his own jokes, which only made him feel that he truly was losing his mind. What he wouldn't have given to still have a boyfriend, even if only to stave off the loneliness, but alas, David's last boyfriend had left him after a year of dating because of his refusal to come out of the closet. Sometimes he felt that he was destined to be alone. He couldn't even collect cats for company because cat hair on his clothes made him incredibly angry.
Nearly-constant solitude made it feel as if it had been years since his mother had died, when in reality it had been just nine months. David missed her more than he could describe, especially on those nights when he wished he had someone there to fill the silence. He had been proud of his mother the doctor when she told him she was volunteering with Doctors Without Borders. The idea of her traveling to Cameroon to donate her time and medical help to people with HIV/AIDS was absolutely brilliant to him and he couldn't have been prouder to call her his mother. When his father (luckily not out to sea at that moment) got the call that his wife had been infected with Malaria via mosquito bite and had passed away, David's outlook on her trip suddenly changed. Now that nine months had passed, however, and David had been given time to grieve properly, he found that pride stirring up in him again. He knew that if his mother had to die, she would have been honored to die while helping people who truly needed it. Hating Doctors Without Borders, hating Cameroon, hating mosquitoes wouldn't bring her back. The least he could do was honor her memory by continuing to find pride in the truly selfless life she had lived.
David left his house that morning by 7:21 and headed to Jenny's house, the girl who knew more about him than quite possibly anyone else on the planet. He knew that he would be early before he pulled up in front of the house, just like he knew that she would be at least five minutes late. This was part of why David made sure to leave the house and head to get her no less than thirty minutes before school started, because where David was rigid in his morning routine, Jenny didn't seem to have one at all. David didn't ever start honking until 7:45, though that morning it wasn't necessary. He saw the front door open and his friend step out into the morning light, squinting into the sun as if she had only been awake for a matter of minutes. David smiled and waved at her, noting the way her frizzy, curly red hair was pulled back into a poofy ponytail, her backpack hung off of one shoulder and she carried her sweater in her hand rather than wearing it, as if she hadn't had time to put it on for fear of upsetting David with her lateness. “Morning beautiful,” David greeted as she got into the car and she grumbled a response, her eyes barely open and her eyeliner from the previous day smudged slightly. David simply smiled, handed her a travel mug of coffee he had made for her and started to drive toward school.
Jenny was the perfect best friend. Not only did she listen to David's problems but she was legitimately invested in them, and he did the same for her. Their relationship was about equal give and take, and though sometimes one would ask for more than the other, in the end it would even out and no score was ever kept. David thought that was how friendships should be. She was kind hearted, open minded, funny, smart and creative; David hated that no one else bothered to look at those qualities. No, all that his classmates seemed to see was her rough, blemish-prone skin, her pink cheeks, her red hair, her blonde eyebrows and eyelashes, and the fifty pounds she could stand to lose. In spite of the things that other people were convinced made her ugly, David thought she was beautiful. She was real. She didn't cover herself in pounds of foundation and concealer, she didn't starve herself to be thin. He loved everything about her, from her leopard print skinny jeans to her Team-Jacob t-shirt. He wouldn't have changed a single thing about his best friend.
As the pair stood in front of their shared locker, both tucking away the things they didn't strictly need (though David's shelf in the locker was much more neat and organized than Jenny's was), they talked lightly. Almost all of that mug of coffee had been finished and Jenny was turning into her usual talkative self, if not a little less chatty than she would be come lunch time. This was generally how their mornings went before they went their separate ways for classes. David hated that they only had a couple of classes together, but what did he expect? When it came to book-smarts, Jenny was a lot smarter than he could ever hope to be. David's passion laid in fashion and art, and he didn't really care to make a lot of time for anything else. His father never bugged him about not being advanced because he was exactly where the state said he should have been and he got good grades, maintaining a record of all A's and B's. The only C he had ever gotten was in PE and David honestly didn't care in that case; David thought he was lucky to have passed at all. Jenny, on the other hand, was taking almost all Honors classes, one of the only exceptions being Drama; her passion was in the theatre.
“Look who it is! The beauty and the beast!” a boy's voice came, instantly followed by laughter and other, more softly muttered insults in the same fashion.
David rolled his eyes and turned to look where it came from, but he didn't have to look to know who it was. Pierre Bouvier was standing in the middle of his usual crowd, holding that look on his face that made David want to slap him repeatedly... but of course, he never would. He could feel his desire to yell insults back bubbling up inside of him, begging to be let out, but his mind was blank and his courage was shot. David had never been good at coming up with retorts in the moment. It seemed that he always thought of the perfect thing to say immediately after, when it was already too late to stand up for himself and his friend. Jenny was no better at this than he was. They were the perfect targets: different and doormats.
“Now, I know it might be tempting,” Pierre continued, leaning forward and directing his attention to Jenny specifically, who flushed and turned a violent shade of red that clashed with the orange-hues of her hair. “But try not to eat your fairy princess. I know it might be hard for you since food's probably on your mind, oh, say, ninety-seven percent of the time, but if you chow down on him the way I saw you demolish those sloppy-joes yesterday, you're not gonna have anyone left that actually tolerates your freakish behavior,” he finished meanly, his smirk evil.
David could see tears his in friend's brown eyes and he grabbed her hand, pulling her away from him. “Come on, let's go,” David muttered, closing their locker door and ignoring the laughter and jeers from behind them.
“Aaaah! It's an earthquake!” Pierre yelled after them, only making Jenny flush worse. They turned a corner and the sound of laughter died away, leaving the two to walk in silence and think about what had just happened and the things they wished they had said.
“Don't listen to him. He's stupid and he has no idea what he's talking about,” David abused Pierre.
“I hate him,” Jenny muttered darkly, her voice shaking as much as her hands were. “I hate him so freaking much. I hope he's walking to his car alone one night, gets raped by some buff guy with a huge wiener, gets AIDS and dies a slow, painful death.”
David huffed and gave her hand a squeeze, nodding once firmly. “Me too. And then he goes to Hell and gets made fun of and picked on the way he picks on us for the rest of eternity,” David added angrily.
Pierre Bouvier was the perfect example of what was wrong with the world, in David's opinion. He hated everything about him, everything that made him who he was. He was disgustingly rich with his stupid surgeon dad and his stupid Stepford-Wives stay at home mother, he went out of his way to make others—especially David and Jenny—feel inferior, and he walked around with an air of arrogance that suggested he was better than everyone else. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, he was perfectly gorgeous in every way, with his perfect shaggy brown hair and his perfect clear skin and his perfect straight smile and his perfect brown eyes and his perfect toned body. Why did he get everything? Why was everything thrust down upon a person who deserved it the least? How could David's mother—a woman who went out of her way to live an exceptional, selfless life—die of an awful disease while pricks like Pierre Bouvier got to run around rich, beautiful and popular? It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.
David and Jenny managed to feel a little bit better after horribly abusing Pierre and his little posse and by the time they parted ways and went to their separate classes, they were actually laughing about how ridiculous and insecure the boy must have been. It was with that thought in mind that David moved into his first class of the day, one which he—of course—shared with the very boy he hated more than anyone else on Earth. He ignored Pierre as the boy called to him, and moved to his desk, pulling out his things and waiting for the teacher to arrive. As soon as she did, just like David knew would happen, Pierre left him alone and all laughter died down. Pierre Bouvier, Golden Boy, hockey team captain, was not stupid enough to get caught torturing David. Part of the many gifts he had been blessed with that he didn't deserve was that adults absolutely loved him. They ate up his fake cheesy act, believed him to be sweet and thoughtful, a helpful, ambitious boy who was going to go far in life, wherever he decided to go. David only hated him more for it.
When David found himself sitting at lunch with Jenny, staring the gooey slop the school tried to pass off as nachos, he could feel a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, making it impossible to raise a single chip to his lips to eat. He glanced across the cafeteria and saw Pierre sitting at a table with a bunch of friends, laughing and acting like stupid teenagers. The sigh that left his chest sounded angry and defeated at the same time and he idly dropped the chip he was holding.
“You're not the one that needs to quit eating,” Jenny joked, taking a backhanded stab at herself.
“Oh shut up,” David retorted, looking back to her with an unamused glare. “Don't listen to a word that jerk says. He wishes his girlfriend was half as awesome as you.” As if on cue, the two turned to look again at the table, seeing the long haired blonde girl sitting next to Pierre who was looking around with wide confused eyes, as if she had no idea what was happening around her; this look was common on her face, David noticed.
“Do you think it hurts her brain to do simple things, like breathe?” Jenny joked, bringing a smile to David's face and he nodded quickly. Soon his smile was fading, however, and he was left with that nagging feeling. He hated that feeling. “What's up with you?” Jenny asked, though David didn't look at her. “You seem more bugged by him than usual.”
“It's just not fair,” David repeated his thought from earlier that morning, glaring over at the boy and his friends. “He's such a douche! And he gets everything handed to him on a silver platter!”
“I heard him talking to a friend about some talent scout that's coming to one of his stupid hockey games,” Jenny gossiped bitterly. “Just one more point for Pierre Bouvier. He gets everything he wants.”
David glared hard and gave another sigh, this one louder and angrier than the previous. “I hope he chokes,” he muttered quietly.
Jenny laughed and seemed to gain excitement from the idea. “Oh my God, that would be awesome, if he just started choking on his food. I can picture his dumb girlfriend staring around like, 'what do I do?!'” she went off, grinning wide.
David smiled and laughed, though he shook his head and looked back at her finally. “As entertaining as that would be, I meant I hope he chokes at the game in front of the scout!”
“Oh my God, that would be even better! Screw dying, that's the easy way out. This would be so much better! Finally something would go wrong in his perfect little life!” Jenny laughed, sounding even more excited at the prospect.
“He deserves to know what it's like to lose something he desperately wants,” David said with a nod.
A sigh came from Jenny and she gave a defeated sort of smile. “Too bad there's nothing we could do about it.”
“I know,” David agreed, his voice tinged with disappointment. He looked back at his nachos, picking at the chips and watching the goop they called “cheese” fall back to the plate with a stomach-churning jiggle. “Imagine if I got on the team and threw the game,” he joked, smiling a little again and scooping up more cheese on his flimsy chip just to watch it fall again. It was disgusting yet satisfying to watch; it fit his mood perfectly.
“Dude...” The tone of Jenny's voice confused David and he looked up at her, his eyebrows pulled together and a frown on his lips. She sounded like she had just experienced an epiphany or something, and the way she was looking at him was no better, only adding to his confusion.
“...what?” David asked, sounding nervous.
“You should totally do that,” Jenny replied, her voice low and monotone yet strangely intense.
David stared at her as if she had lost her mind, trying to decide if she was joking. After a few seconds of staring at her unchanging expression, however, he was forced to conclude that she was entirely serious and his eyes widened. “What? No way!”
“Why not?!” She asked quickly, though her voice stayed low, as if she was afraid someone might hear their conversation.
“Because! I could never pull that off!” David reasoned, matching her tone and voice level.
“Yes you could! You're just underestimating yourself!” She told him quickly.
“I hate sports,” David continued, leaning closer and shaking his head.
“What do you hate more? Sports or Pierre Bouvier?”
David was silent for a moment before a small smile turned up the corners of his lips. “Pierre,” he replied slowly, before he was shaking his head again. “But even if I got on the team, they would kick me off before I made it past one game! I can't play sports, I just can't!”
“The scout is coming to the first game, I heard him bragging about it! It's just like, a minor scout, and if he likes what he sees, more will follow, but if they lose the game...” Jenny trailed off dramatically, smiling wide. “You'd only have to make it through one game, and you wouldn't even have to play well. In fact, you'd want to play badly!”
David stared at her, smiling an incredulous smile and shaking his head slowly. “This is crazy,” he said quietly.
“So crazy it might work,” She pointed out.
Silence followed that sentence and for a moment the two simply looked at each other as David wondered if he could really pull it off. Could he be responsible for teaching Pierre Bouvier a lesson? Could he be the one to rip something away from the rich boy who always got his way? With a feeling of recklessness, David threw his hands up in defeat. “Okay, let's do it.” Why not? What did he really have to lose?