Post by Robin on Aug 10, 2006 19:19:22 GMT -8
K. This is a Roni/Sid/Kit interaction piece. I don't know if this would go into the main story that I'm working on, either whole or in parts, but I felt like I needed to write it because I don't know a lot about how these characters all interact. I'm going to be doing a lot of this kind of thing for now because holding together any kind of plot is impossible for me right now (Yu-Gi-Oh ate my brain...if you don't believe me, go to neumanstudios.com...I made that layout, and that delusion could only come from a severely rotted brain), but I need to keep writing if I'm going to keep my mojo. I'm not even sure that I haven't LOST my Kit mojo, because I lost my By Blood and Iron mojo, and my Wyatt skills are severely diminished. So this may be a bit sloppy; I don't know. You tell me.
PS: The first half - up to 'Roni was short for Veronica' - was written a long time ago, when I thought I'd be going somewhere with Roni. She's more of a background character most of the time.
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The week before Carolyn came to Wyatt and co., Marty got sick and was forced to stay home for a week and a half. During the time, I had to entertain myself, which was harder than it seems. During that time, I stuck close around Sid and Roni who were, out of our circle of friends, the best choice for somebody wanting to take their mind off of glum thoughts and a sick friend. And they could do that without giving you financial worries, too. We never went anywhere that cost money. It was always a bike-ride up a hill just to see who could make it first and push the others down, a hike up into the woods to spring all the traps we could find just to piss off some hunters (we didn’t have anything against hunting, it was the concept of pissing somebody, anybody, off that fascinated us, not necessarily the springing of traps and saving of animal lives), a sleepy afternoon spent in Roni’s bedroom frowning up at the posters on her ceiling, posters forming a collage that she called her ‘little piece of heaven,’ frowning and wondering how she could like or even appreciate the talents of the people portrayed in her little piece of heaven.
Some days, Roni would turn the music all the way up in her room and lock herself and her boyfriend – It was the school’s token black kid, Lance Conrad, at the time – inside, and it would be just Sid and me, and on those days we wouldn’t talk much. It was a characteristic that I appreciated about him. What he liked best, and what he was happiest doing, was pleasing everybody, and the best way to please everybody is to be flamboyant and ridiculous, which I suppose was what he liked best to do anyways. But when he was alone with one other person, he didn’t have to please but one person, and he could act on whatever cues he picked up from that other person. So when he was with me, he was quiet. We talked a little bit, but I was never one for heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul talks, even with Marty, because a lot of the times Marty understood my troubles without me having to say a word, and there could be the comfort of understanding without the near agony of admittance. They say that people are supposed to talk it all out, but I never have, and never will. All that needs to happen is a release of some sort, which always comes about if a person looks for it, whether that person talks or not. So Sid was quiet when he was with me, and when Roni was around he was his usual loud and flamboyant self.
And then, there came the Friday when, sitting at the top of a hill and nursing bruises from numerous Sid-induced falls, we were all silent. Both Sid and I were uneasy in the silence, and kept clearing our throats, casting looks at Roni, who was staring someplace above our heads with a thoughtful expression on her face. The sun shining behind her created a nimbus of light tinted pink at its inner rims around her head, courtesy of her most recent dye-job; a dusty purple.
“You guys aren’t going to believe this,” she said after some time, talking slowly like a girl in a dream.
“If you’re going to tell us you’re an alien or something, shouldn’t it wait until all the guys are around so you don’t have to suck out our brains twice?” Sid asked, though his heart didn’t seem to be in it. Though he had been just as uneasy with the silence as I had been before, now he seemed to languish in the fact that Roni was talking to us, looking not at her but at her shoes.
“I’d rather tell you two first,” she said.
“Well, tell us, then, if you want to, and make it snappy, because I’m getting tired and I think Kit wants to go see if Marty’s feeling better.” His words were snappy, but his voice was weary, the kind of weary voice an old dog will use in an attempt to ward off a group of hyper puppies. ‘I’m old, I’m tired, and I feel like shit. So please, kids, just cut off my balls now so I can get some sleep.’
She cast him an icy look that would have been comical if it wasn’t for the bitter twist to her mouth and the fatigued down-turning of the corners of Sid’s.
“Since ‘snappy,’ seems to be what you want,” she said, “I’ll give you snappy. I’m pregnant.”
Sid blinked, but that was it.
“I expected something like that,” was all he said, and then he ducked his head down.
“How could you expect it?” she asked, waspishly, and where her eyes had been ice before they were venom.
“What did you expect me to expect?” He kept his head down, but his voice was startlingly clear besides that. “You’re always up in that bedroom, that sex room, humping on somebody. You’ve probably done almost everyone in school now. I haven’t seen you take a girl up there yet, but I bet you’re gearing up for it! Whose is it?” The last statement was so sudden that the poison in Roni’s eyes faltered for a moment before returning, more potent than ever. “Well?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and her voice was so quiet I wasn’t sure if it was for emphasis or because she was really off guard.
“You don’t know? Of course you don’t know!” His head was up, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright with an anger that I’d never seen on his face before. “How would you know? When there are so many possibilities it would be impossible to know!”
“Sid, stop it!”
“Why? So you can get an abortion and go on with your life? That’s not how it works, Veronica.”
“I know it’s not.” Her voice sounded miserable. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
The flush in Sid’s cheeks crept up to his ears in embarrassment, but the fire didn’t leave his eyes. I knew it wouldn’t. “Then why don’t you figure out what you are going to do? Get your shit together!”
“I can’t think when you’re yelling at me!” Neither her eyes nor her voice were teary, but they were strained, and she held her fingers to her temples. Sid’s face turned crimson.
“I guess since I’m such a distraction, I’ll take my leave. Kit, you coming?” He didn’t wait for my response, just stood and stalked down the hill. I sat there for a moment, looking at Roni. She didn’t seem to notice me. For some odd reason, all I could think of was that Roni was short for Veronica. And then I got up, and cast one last look at her.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled; for what, I don’t know.
“S’okay,” she said, but I don’t think she really heard me.
I didn’t have Marty’s gift of subtlety, and probably never would, and so I went to find Sid. I expected that he would be at the park – he had never been subtle, either – and that was where I went, and where I found him. He was sitting against the fountain with his head in his hands, his fingers white against the black curls of his hair.
“I know that’s you, Kit,” he said as I approached. “You’re the only one who walks like a Jew at the country club.”
“What about Wyatt?” I asked, sitting down next to him. I was rewarded by a harsh chuckle.
“He walks like a duck-footed Jew at the country club.” He looked up at me and smiled crookedly. “It’s not the same thing, trust me.”
“I trust you.” His eyes were dry, but he scrubbed at them with the back of his hand anyways.
“What am I going to do about Roni?” he asked suddenly.
“Technically, you don’t have to do anything. You’re not the one with a baby growing in you.”
He snorted. “She’s my little sister. It’s my job to take care of her. If she was my older sister, it wouldn’t matter, but that’s not the way things turned out.”
“This isn’t like some school bully, man,” I said. “If my sister got pregnant I wouldn’t bother with making all her decisions for her.”
“You don’t have a little sister.” He looked at me appraisingly, as if deciding whether or not I was trying to be funny.
“Yeah, but if I did.”
He laughed, but didn’t look at me; he stared off into the distance like a man gazing at the place he has been told he will die at.
“What am I going to do about Roni?” he asked again.
I didn’t have an answer.
PS: The first half - up to 'Roni was short for Veronica' - was written a long time ago, when I thought I'd be going somewhere with Roni. She's more of a background character most of the time.
---------
The week before Carolyn came to Wyatt and co., Marty got sick and was forced to stay home for a week and a half. During the time, I had to entertain myself, which was harder than it seems. During that time, I stuck close around Sid and Roni who were, out of our circle of friends, the best choice for somebody wanting to take their mind off of glum thoughts and a sick friend. And they could do that without giving you financial worries, too. We never went anywhere that cost money. It was always a bike-ride up a hill just to see who could make it first and push the others down, a hike up into the woods to spring all the traps we could find just to piss off some hunters (we didn’t have anything against hunting, it was the concept of pissing somebody, anybody, off that fascinated us, not necessarily the springing of traps and saving of animal lives), a sleepy afternoon spent in Roni’s bedroom frowning up at the posters on her ceiling, posters forming a collage that she called her ‘little piece of heaven,’ frowning and wondering how she could like or even appreciate the talents of the people portrayed in her little piece of heaven.
Some days, Roni would turn the music all the way up in her room and lock herself and her boyfriend – It was the school’s token black kid, Lance Conrad, at the time – inside, and it would be just Sid and me, and on those days we wouldn’t talk much. It was a characteristic that I appreciated about him. What he liked best, and what he was happiest doing, was pleasing everybody, and the best way to please everybody is to be flamboyant and ridiculous, which I suppose was what he liked best to do anyways. But when he was alone with one other person, he didn’t have to please but one person, and he could act on whatever cues he picked up from that other person. So when he was with me, he was quiet. We talked a little bit, but I was never one for heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul talks, even with Marty, because a lot of the times Marty understood my troubles without me having to say a word, and there could be the comfort of understanding without the near agony of admittance. They say that people are supposed to talk it all out, but I never have, and never will. All that needs to happen is a release of some sort, which always comes about if a person looks for it, whether that person talks or not. So Sid was quiet when he was with me, and when Roni was around he was his usual loud and flamboyant self.
And then, there came the Friday when, sitting at the top of a hill and nursing bruises from numerous Sid-induced falls, we were all silent. Both Sid and I were uneasy in the silence, and kept clearing our throats, casting looks at Roni, who was staring someplace above our heads with a thoughtful expression on her face. The sun shining behind her created a nimbus of light tinted pink at its inner rims around her head, courtesy of her most recent dye-job; a dusty purple.
“You guys aren’t going to believe this,” she said after some time, talking slowly like a girl in a dream.
“If you’re going to tell us you’re an alien or something, shouldn’t it wait until all the guys are around so you don’t have to suck out our brains twice?” Sid asked, though his heart didn’t seem to be in it. Though he had been just as uneasy with the silence as I had been before, now he seemed to languish in the fact that Roni was talking to us, looking not at her but at her shoes.
“I’d rather tell you two first,” she said.
“Well, tell us, then, if you want to, and make it snappy, because I’m getting tired and I think Kit wants to go see if Marty’s feeling better.” His words were snappy, but his voice was weary, the kind of weary voice an old dog will use in an attempt to ward off a group of hyper puppies. ‘I’m old, I’m tired, and I feel like shit. So please, kids, just cut off my balls now so I can get some sleep.’
She cast him an icy look that would have been comical if it wasn’t for the bitter twist to her mouth and the fatigued down-turning of the corners of Sid’s.
“Since ‘snappy,’ seems to be what you want,” she said, “I’ll give you snappy. I’m pregnant.”
Sid blinked, but that was it.
“I expected something like that,” was all he said, and then he ducked his head down.
“How could you expect it?” she asked, waspishly, and where her eyes had been ice before they were venom.
“What did you expect me to expect?” He kept his head down, but his voice was startlingly clear besides that. “You’re always up in that bedroom, that sex room, humping on somebody. You’ve probably done almost everyone in school now. I haven’t seen you take a girl up there yet, but I bet you’re gearing up for it! Whose is it?” The last statement was so sudden that the poison in Roni’s eyes faltered for a moment before returning, more potent than ever. “Well?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and her voice was so quiet I wasn’t sure if it was for emphasis or because she was really off guard.
“You don’t know? Of course you don’t know!” His head was up, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright with an anger that I’d never seen on his face before. “How would you know? When there are so many possibilities it would be impossible to know!”
“Sid, stop it!”
“Why? So you can get an abortion and go on with your life? That’s not how it works, Veronica.”
“I know it’s not.” Her voice sounded miserable. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
The flush in Sid’s cheeks crept up to his ears in embarrassment, but the fire didn’t leave his eyes. I knew it wouldn’t. “Then why don’t you figure out what you are going to do? Get your shit together!”
“I can’t think when you’re yelling at me!” Neither her eyes nor her voice were teary, but they were strained, and she held her fingers to her temples. Sid’s face turned crimson.
“I guess since I’m such a distraction, I’ll take my leave. Kit, you coming?” He didn’t wait for my response, just stood and stalked down the hill. I sat there for a moment, looking at Roni. She didn’t seem to notice me. For some odd reason, all I could think of was that Roni was short for Veronica. And then I got up, and cast one last look at her.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled; for what, I don’t know.
“S’okay,” she said, but I don’t think she really heard me.
I didn’t have Marty’s gift of subtlety, and probably never would, and so I went to find Sid. I expected that he would be at the park – he had never been subtle, either – and that was where I went, and where I found him. He was sitting against the fountain with his head in his hands, his fingers white against the black curls of his hair.
“I know that’s you, Kit,” he said as I approached. “You’re the only one who walks like a Jew at the country club.”
“What about Wyatt?” I asked, sitting down next to him. I was rewarded by a harsh chuckle.
“He walks like a duck-footed Jew at the country club.” He looked up at me and smiled crookedly. “It’s not the same thing, trust me.”
“I trust you.” His eyes were dry, but he scrubbed at them with the back of his hand anyways.
“What am I going to do about Roni?” he asked suddenly.
“Technically, you don’t have to do anything. You’re not the one with a baby growing in you.”
He snorted. “She’s my little sister. It’s my job to take care of her. If she was my older sister, it wouldn’t matter, but that’s not the way things turned out.”
“This isn’t like some school bully, man,” I said. “If my sister got pregnant I wouldn’t bother with making all her decisions for her.”
“You don’t have a little sister.” He looked at me appraisingly, as if deciding whether or not I was trying to be funny.
“Yeah, but if I did.”
He laughed, but didn’t look at me; he stared off into the distance like a man gazing at the place he has been told he will die at.
“What am I going to do about Roni?” he asked again.
I didn’t have an answer.
