Date: Fri, 6 Jul 2012 20:46:25 -0700 (PDT)
From: Poison Ivy <lookwritethroughme@yahoo.com>
Subject: A Lens That's Black And White: Chapter 1

This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblances to any person, place, or
written works are purely coincidental.  I retain all rights to the work,
and request that in any use of this material that my rights are respected.
Please do not copy or use this story in any manner without my permission.
If you are not legally allowed to be reading this, or are offended by
emotional/sexual relations between those of the same gender, well, what are
doing here?

Feel free to email me with any comments, questions, or concerns (or just a
greeting, I don't care) at lookwritethroughme@yahoo.com :D


Chapter 1 -- Eli


"Elijah, would you please stop ogling yourself in the mirror? You're gonna
be late which will make me late,"

my annoying older sister, Tabby, called. I watched my reflection scowl. I
hated when she called me by my full name, not that I really hated my name
that much. I think it was just the way that she said it, like a mother
reprimanding a child, and the fact that she refused to call me Eli, the
name that I went by.

"I'm coming, would you stop yelling?" I called back. I stood in front of
the mirror in my bathroom, looking over my wardrobe for the hundredth time
that morning. I was wearing a green and gray striped American Eagle shirt
and medium wash jeans, slightly hanging down on my hips. I was hoping it
was a good enough look to start off my junior year. Casual, but stylish. I
hoped. I feathered through my shaggy dirty blonde hair one last time and
then finally headed downstairs with my backpack in hand.

"God, finally you're ready," Tabby exclaimed, rolling her eyes at me.

"Try not to grow up and be like him, Josh," she said to our little
brother. Today was going to be Josh's first day in high school and the
first day of my junior year. Tabby, who's real name was Tabatha, was a
freshman in college but was living at home and commuting to college
everyday. I wish she'd chosen to live on campus.

Then again, I'd probably end up stuck riding the bus with my little
brother.

We all got into Tabby's roomy Range Rover that she'd gotten for her 17th
birthday. Funny how she'd gotten an expensive truck, and I'd be stuck with
a hand-me-down old pickup when I turned seventeen. But then again, it'd be
my Dad's old truck and I didn't mind having something of his.

I was sitting in the back seat, next to Josh and I noticed that he was
shaking his leg at lightning speed, a nervous habit of his, and fidgeting
around. "Nervous?" I whispered.

Josh stopped his leg shaking and said, "Yeah, how'd you guess?" He laughed
a little shakily.

"Listen, man don't be nervous, it's not that bad. Just try not to be such a
dork," I joked, nudging him with my elbow. "But, really, people liked you
in middle school, they'll probably still like you now. Just relax, these
next years go by fast."

"Nice speech. I bet that really helped," Tabby said sarcastically, and then
added, "Anyway, would you just make sure he finds his classes okay? And he
doesn't get into trouble?"

I rolled my eyes. "When I was a freshman you helped me find the school
building and said 'good luck'."

"I want at least one brother to come out okay, and since that's obviously
not you..." Tabby joked. She laughed her evil older sister laugh, the type
that crinkled the corner of eyes and the bridge of her button nose.

"Go ahead, find entertainment at my expense. I see why Mom named you
Tabatha, it's a name that a witch would have...or just a bitch," I mumbled
the last part under my breath, and Josh laughed, seeming to have lost some
of his nervousness. "You're just lucky you didn't have to go to school with
her for two years, little bro."

We pulled up in front of the high school and Josh exhaled slowly. He spiked
his already spiked hair, peaking in the rear view mirror to make sure it
was perfect. He looked slightly like he belonged on the Jersey Shore with
that hair but I didn't tell him. His style was his style. "Okay, you're
hair looks amazing now, now get out before I'm late to my first class,"
Tabby told Josh.

We both climbed out and walked across the school's lawn and through the
glass doors leading into the school. "So, uh, everyday we have fifteen
minutes before class actually starts, if we leave at the right time. I
guess I'll help you find all your classes. There may be schedule changes so
we all go to homeroom before first period and get new schedules. Only use
the new one, the old one might not be right.

The halls are numbered, so it's like 100 hall, 200 hall, 300 hall, and so
on. The halls have big signs with their numbers so you should find them
okay," I said, in a rush. "After I show you around, I probably won't see
you for the rest of the day so you're on your own, kiddo."

I walked around with Josh for ten minutes, leaving myself five minutes to
get to class, and showed him where his homeroom was, and the shortcuts and
ways to maneuver the halls. "I have to go to class now, but, uh, good luck,
kiddo. Don't get beat up," I joked.

"Thanks, Eli," Josh genuinely thanked me.

"No prob," I smiled.

I made my way to homeroom, which went by quickly, and looked over my
schedule. I had AP Geometry, AP English III, Honors U.S History, Advanced
Chemistry, and a bunch of electives I'd picked. One was Creative Writing, a
class I'd been wanting to take and finally got a chance to take. My English
teachers had always taken a special liking to me and said I was a really
good writer. I did love writing so, what the heck, why not take the class.

My first few classes went by quickly, being mostly intros to what we were
going to be doing for the rest of the year. Nothing remotely interesting
happened until Creative Writing class. A woman who looked about thirty,
maybe thirty-one, walked in and introduced herself as Ms. Hartley. I
recognized her name from the school newspaper and remembered that she ran
the paper. She started talking about what the class would be about and what
she expected from us and some other stuff but I wasn't really listening.

I was distracted by a feeling that I couldn't quite place. I scratched the
back of my neck but the feeling continued. It felt like I was being
watched. I glanced around as casually as I could and found myself making
eye contact with someone I'd never seen before. He was a scrawny guy with
dark brown hair that was died red at the tips and moss green eyes. He was
wearing a navy blue t-shirt with a band name on it, dark jeans that were
too big for him, and a black fingerless glove on his right hand. He held a
pencil in that hand but it was just hovering over a blank sheet of notebook
paper. And he was staring at me very intensely.

I was the first to look away, as I felt overwhelmed by something I couldn't
identify but I definitely felt creeped out. I glanced back again and he was
looking down intently at his paper and scrawling words down. With the way
he'd gone back to what he was doing so quickly, I wondered if that whole
thing had really just happened.

Next thing I knew it was lunch time and I walked to the cafeteria, after
stopping at my locker and shoving my stuff in there. I got on the lunch
line, grabbed some type of chicken meal and scanned the cafeteria for a
face a knew. I scanned the room quickly, before I spotted a table
overflowing with my hockey teammates, some football players, and an
assortment of hot girls. "Hey, wassup?" I greeted them, and sat my tray
down where there was an empty seat.

"Hey, Eli, how's it goin'?" One of my close friends, Mike, said.

My best friend friend, Jake Blanchard, seemed to come out of nowhere,
sitting down next to me in a huff. "Hey, Jake. Haven't seen you all
day. How're classes so far?" I asked him.

I had a lot of friends and buddies and close friends but Jake was my best
friend, that was just the way it had worked out. He didn't play hockey or
anything, he played lacrosse but we'd met back in fifth grade, back before
popularity and peer pressure. He was the one person I could tell anything
and the one person who understood.

I mean we were both popular now but we weren't like everyone else so we
just kind of stuck together. We still hung in the popular crowd but
sometimes we hung back, especially when it came to partying. Don't get me
wrong, I went to parties once in a while and had fun, of course, but I
wasn't into the party scene like most people were. I think it was mostly
because of the wild parties where everyone's drinking, puking, having sex,
and getting high. I didn't drink, smoke, or get high on anything. Sex,
well, that's another story.

Some people thought I was a prude for not going to parties like that but I
had my reasons, they just didn't know them. My dad died when I was nine, of
liver failure. He'd been an alcoholic but he was just starting to get
better when his liver shut down. I didn't want to end up like my dad, so I
didn't drink. Alcoholism could be hereditary and I wasn't testing the
theory. Every time I'd consider getting drunk, or even just drinking, I
thought of my future kids. I'd never want to put them through the stress of
having an alcoholic parent. Not to mention my wife, and myself.  Don't get
me wrong, my dad was a great father, when he could be. When he was sober,
he was the best. When he was drunk, he wasn't really around. But I saw what
alcohol could do to people after years of on and off excess drinking. And
my dad's sister, my aunt, was a junkie, probably living in some crack or
prostitution house in Manhattan. Drugs and alcohol had never really been an
option for me.

I was snapped back to reality when Jake said, "Here, man," And handed me
his schedule. I took mine out and compared them and saw that we had two
classes together, plus lunch. I groaned when I realized one was Foods,
a.k.a Home Ec.

"Yeah they put us in Home Ec, there weren't many other classes to choose
from anyway. Hopefully this'll be an easy A," Jake said.

"Yeah I hope so," I agreed. When lunch was over we all emptied our trays
and went our separate ways.

My next two classes after lunch went by fast and as I was walking out of
the Chemistry lab, I had a sudden feeling that someone was watching me and
had the urge to itch the back of my head, where they're eyes were burning
holes.

I turned around and across the hall and down some, stood the guy who'd been
staring at me in Creative Writing class. His eyebrows were drawn together
like I was a puzzle that he was trying to slowly figure out.

When he saw that I saw him, he quickly looked away, and started taking
books out of his locker and then rushed away, presumably to class.

Okay, that was extremely weird.

"What are you blushing about?" I heard a voice ask. I looked up from my
locker to see Jake leaning against the locker next to mine and grinning.

"I'm not blushing," I said but I knew my blush just got even more
fierce. "What are you doing here anyway, don't you have to get to class?"

"We've got Foods next so I came to make sure you got to class on time. I
have a feeling I'm gonna need you to get a decent grade in there,"

He replied. I laughed, gathered up my things, and walked to class with
Jake.

The teacher did in fact ask us to pick partners that we would be working
with for at least the next two weeks so Jake and I picked each other and
the rest of class was spent listening to the teacher tell us what this
class was about, how it was going to work, and how we would have to learn
the basics before getting to cook bigger and better meals and treats.

"This class sounds kinda fun, minus the basics," Jake said as we exited the
classroom. "Later, Eli."

There was only one more period left in the day and I quickly rushed to
class. There were two rows of tables that sat two people each, similar to
the ones in science and cooking classrooms. I sat down at a table in the
middle of the room, on the left side by the window.

The teacher introduced himself as Mr. Graenley. "Welcome to Film Studies,"
He sang out. I looked him over and decided I liked him.

He was dressed casually but professionally in a white button down shirt
with a silver vest over it and a black tie and he had on slacks. He wore
hipster glasses that were more about fashion than being able to see and he
had a modern day hair cut.

Mr.

Graenley continued to explain that the class would be about studying styles
of film, the process of film-making, film history, and basically all things
film. "Now, to get into the gist of things, we'll start off with a small
but fun project involving partners,"

He announced. That got a few cheers until he said, "I will be choosing your
partners. But, don't worry it'll still be fun. You're going to be making a
five minute film that'll help us to get to know your partner a little
better. This is sort of an ice-breaker. Each partner will make a film of
the other partner, a kind of "A-Day-In-The-Life-Of..." film. Or you can set
it up like a kind of interview that let's us find out things about this
person. Don't forget to try and be creative and do your best. You'll have
three and a half weeks to get these films done. One, regular video camera
will be handed out for each group. You break it, you buy it."

The project sounded interesting and fun but I was slightly scared of who my
partner might be and if I could even pull off making a good
project. Mr. Graenley started calling out pairs of names and my heart sped
up a little when he called out my name. "Elijah Cole, you will be working
with Jonah McCoy," He told me, and I followed his hand as he pointed out my
new partner. There he was again, the boy with the bloodred-dipped,
brown-black hair and slight build.

I watched as he stood up, slowly, grabbing his things with slightly shaking
hands and sat down next to me at our table, plopping down into the chair
that was there. I looked over at him, feeling nervous for some reason. And
I'd have to get to know this guy? Great. But it was for school and I'd have
to talk to him, so might as well start now, right?

"Hey,"

I said casually. He looked up, surprise showing on his face that I'd talked
to him.

"Hey,"

he replied, his voice kind of deep but soft at the same time. "I'm Viz." He
extended his hand for me to shake. I must've gotten a confused look on my
face because he quickly added, "I was born Jonah, but, uh, I go by Viz."

I accepted that and shook his hand, saying, "I'm Eli." His hand lingered on
mine for a few heartbeats longer than necessary and he realized that and
pulled his hand back quickly, shoving in into the pocket of his
hoodie. "So, um, sounds like a cool project, huh?

Beats essays and paper mache," I continued, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah,"

he responded quietly. His foot started tapping and he shook his hair out of
his face in that skater-boy/emo-boy way. I looked straight ahead, listening
to what the teacher was saying, or pretending to listen, anyway. I kept
seeing him glance over at me out of the corner of my eye and I started to
squirm under his gaze.

I didn't know if I should look at him just so he'd look away or pretend
that I didn't notice, so I just kinda sat there, watching him fidget out of
the corner of my eye. I looked at his hands, which were laced together and
placed delicately on the table that we shared. He had long, skinny fingers
that I imagine could be graceful but all of his movements were slightly
awkward, his limbs, well they...flitted around, swift and feather light. I
wondered if I was the only person who noticed things like that.

Soon the last bell of the day was ringing and I stood up and grabbed my
things to leave and headed for my locker. I thought maybe I should ask Viz
about starting the project but I really didn't want to for some reason. I
decided I'd ignore the stomach-dropping nervousness and go find him so I
could get it over with.

I saw him walking a little bit ahead of my in the crowded hallway and
called out, "Hey, Viz, wait up, man." He jumped a little when I touched his
shoulder and I quickly pulled my hand away and shoved it in my jeans
pocket. "Um, when do you wanna, uh, start that project?

We should probably brainstorm and stuff and then film and leave time for
editing," I spoke, my words coming out more nervous sounding than I wanted.

"Y-Yeah, my dad is having friends over my house today though, so we
probably can't go there. Maybe, if you don't mind, we could go to your
house and, uh, plan out what we're gonna do. B-but I ride the bus, so..."

he stammered and I briefly wondered why he was so nervous. He flipped his
hair again, revealing his moss green eyes but then the hair just fell back
down and covered them again.

"Well, my sister's picking me and my little brother up, she could give you
a ride to my house and I'll ask her if she could drive you home later,"

I told him, cautiously. I wasn't sure if I wanted to, we still had plenty
of time to start the project but it was too late now.

"Um, yeah, okay," he agreed.

"I'll just go get some stuff out of my locker," I said. "Meet me out front
in like five minutes." I quickly grabbed everything I'd need for the day,
which wasn't much since it was the first day and I only had a small
Geometry assignment for homework. When I walked out the front entrance of
the school, I saw Viz leaning against the building, with a black backpack
thrown over one shoulder.

"Come on, doofus!" I heard Tabby yell and I realized that she was sitting
in her Range Rover in front of the school and Josh was in the passenger
seat.

I opened the back door and climbed in and Viz got in after me. "This my
Film Studies partner, Viz. He's coming over so we can work on a project," I
told Tabby and Josh. Then, to Viz, I said, "That's my sister, Tabby and my
little brother, Josh."

"Hey,"

Viz greeted them, weakly. Josh turned around and gave him a slight head nod
and giving him what he thought was a covert once-over. Viz saw this and
turned to stare out the window.

We all sat in a semi-uncomfortable silence for about seven minutes before
Tabby said, "So how was your first day, Josh?"

"It was pretty good. Some kids said I should tryout for football this year,
and I think I will," Josh answered. It was his first day of high school and
I hadn't even asked how it went. I suddenly felt bad for not being a caring
older brother like I should.

"Football?"

Tabby questioned skeptically.

"Yeah, football. What am I too scrawny for football? I'm gonna balk up, I'm
not that small," He defended.

"No, you're not that small," Tabby agreed, "It's just I can't imagine you
playing football." She laughed a little and poked him in the side with her
free hand.

"Shut up," He joked, and stuck his tongue out at her.

"Be prepared to play for a whopping ten people. Everyone comes to our
hockey games, the football team sucks," I bragged, only half joking.

"They may come, but not to see you," Josh teased. I knew I wasn't the best
player on the hockey team but I was one of the top five. I loved the ice
and the feeling of kicking the other team's ass. I'd played hockey since
eighth grade and I still loved it to this day.

I noticed that Viz was just sitting there, watching our interactions with
eyes that sparkled with interest. We weren't really an interesting bunch
and I eyed him quizzically. What could he find so fascinating? He felt my
eyes on him and met my gaze but I quickly looked away, watching trees and
houses and cars as they passed by. We slowed and Tabby pulled into the
driveway of our semi-small house. It was a homey, all-American house with
dark green shutters and egg-shell white paint. It was old but kempt. And it
was all we could afford since my father had died.

Viz stayed quiet as we trudged up the driveway and into the house. He
quietly and politely removed his shoes and placed them on the wood floor in
the foyer. I started up the stairs with my shoes still on--even though my
mother wouldn't have approved--and Viz followed closely behind, quiet as a
mouse.

"This is my room," I announced as I opened the door and let him look around
while I plopped down on my bed. I felt stupid saying it, because obviously
this was my room. I watched Viz spin in a slow circle, looking at each
wall, checking out my movie posters of my favorite movies and prints of
some of my favorite poems. Then he pulled out my desk chair and sat down,
looking over at me with the same unusual expression, like he couldn't quite
figure me out but was trying to. I cleared my throat and his gaze softened,
the intensity of it turned down a couple of notches. "So, um, do you know
what exactly we need in each film?" I asked.

He pulled out a piece of paper in place of an answer and handed it to
me. It was a project rubric, stating what we needed in it and how many
points in was worth. I remembered that he'd given everyone a sheet during
the time that I was pretending to pay attention in class and felt like an
idiot for asking Viz. I handed the paper back to him silently and watched
as he put it away then slouched in my desk chair, his loose jeans hanging
low on his hips and revealing his boxers clinging to his bony hip bone
under his t-shirt.

My mind started cranking out thoughts against my will like what it would be
like to hold those bony hips of his and how soft his skin looked.

I blushed and looked down. I didn't want to think things like that.

It was stupid, I wasn't gay, I definitely wasn't gay. I wasn't a fag.

I'd had plenty of girlfriends and I'd lost my virginity to my girlfriend
sophomore year. I loved girls. I couldn't even be bi, I was just
straight. I'm straight, I told myself, over and over.

"Do you wanna grab a snack before we start? I'm hungry," I said suddenly,
needing to distract myself from the thoughts bubbling up in my mind.

"Yeah, okay," He agreed and stood up. He followed me downstairs, through
the hallway that was adjacent to the living room and into the kitchen. He
sat down at the dining room table which was next to the kitchen. The two
rooms were divided by the stretch of wood flooring that was our hallway. I
fixed us both a turkey sandwich and handed him one.

"I-I'm a vegetarian," He stated quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should've asked first," I quickly apologized. I put the
plate with his sandwich in the fridge, deciding I'd eat it later. "What do
you want to eat? We've got a bunch of chips and some other stuff. You're
free to whatever you want."

"I'll just have some chips," he replied. I sat a bag of Lays potato chips
and cool ranch Doritos in the middle of the dining room table and sat down
across from him. He took a dainty bite out of a potato chip and then asked
me, as if he wasn't sure how I would react to him starting a conversation,
"So, you liked the Dark Knight?"

"Yeah, man, that's one of my all-time favorite movies," I answered,
smiling.

"Mine too," he said, which surprised me. He usually didn't say something
unless it was a question or in reply to a question. "So, you're into
writing, too, huh?"

"Yeah, it's kind of like a hidden talent," I said, taking another bite of
my sandwich. He looked up at me through his eyelashes, his eyes bashful,
and shook his hair out of his face. I noticed that he had flecks of brown
extending from his pupils, penetrating the forest green color of his
irises. He really had beautiful eyes.

"Your eyes are so blue," he whispered, and then seemed to realize that he'd
said it out loud and blushed deep red, looking down and shoving chips into
his mouth. I felt my cheeks get hot and knew I was blushing too. It wasn't
like he'd said anything weird like he liked my eyes, he'd just stated a
fact, that my eyes were really blue. So why was I freaking out inside?

"Hey, are you guys done with the Doritos?" Josh said, his voice cutting
through my thoughts. I looked up to see him standing next to the dining
room table and looking around, probably trying to figure out why Viz and I
were both just sitting there, looking anywhere but at each other.

I shoved the rest of my sandwich in my mouth and said, "Yeah, you can have
'em," around a mouthful of food.

"Dude, you could've said that before shoving that sandwich in your mouth.

But thanks for showing me your chewed up food," Josh joked, grabbing the
bag of Doritos off the table and going up to his room. I felt my face flush
again as Viz looked up at me and smiled.

"So, um, how do you think you wanna have my film set up?" I asked Viz.

"I was thinking of doing an interview of sorts. And then maybe have some
cuts of you going about your daily life inserted between the interview
questions. And we could put up captions so the audience knows the questions
that are asked, instead of hearing me ask them.

Or it could just be clips of you doing things that you usually do.

You know, the "A Day In The Life Of.." thing Mr. Graenley talked about," he
replied and I was surprised because it sounded like he had really thought
through what he wanted to do with it.

"That sounds good. We should probably start right when he gives us the
camcorders so we don't wait until the last minute," I said.

"We could use my camera, instead. It's probably better than the one that
they'll give us. Maybe I could come over tomorrow and we could start
filming some stuff," he suggested and I nodded. "Well, I should probably
call my mom to come pick me up now," he continued.

"Tabby could drive you home, I'm sure she's not busy--" I started.

"No, no, it's fine," he quickly assured me, flipping his hair out of his
face and averting his gaze. He stood up and walked into the living room to
call his mom. Ten minutes later, a car honked its horn and he said, "That's
my mom. See you tomorrow, Eli."

As he walked down the hall and out the front door, I wondered if he didn't
want to be a burden or if he was purposely avoiding any of us seeing his
house.