Inside Chris

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Short Story

About a boy named Chris who deals with a deep secret of being Gay

Submitted: February 13, 2013

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Submitted: February 13, 2013

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Looking in the mirror Chris stands. He stares at his reflection which is tall and thin. He runs his left hand through his brown silky hair, ‘Nobody would know, nobody would though, they have no idea;’ Chris assures himself. Throwing on clothes of his usual style - tight jeans and a checked shirt finished with an old leather jacket, which he thought was retro - he ran down the carpeted stairs, rushing. “Have you got money?” “Yes,” Chris replies to his mum and leaves, slamming the door. Ten minutes that’s how long he waited for the bus. Once on he watched the ticking hand on his watch going round the face another eight times. The bus doors opened making a clanging noise and the smell of the old man with his dog in front was off putting. He did need to sit somewhere with two seats though, for Sally. There she was, her natural warm red hair in a pony tail and that perfect smile that was welcoming to anyone who saw it. Sat together, like two peas in a pod, they were inseparable and had been since primary school, through thick and thin. “Did you finish that report? You know the one for Mr Rodger’s class?” He lingered on her reply, clinging to every word, every breath. “Yeah of course. I’m a good student unlike you,” she laughed, giving a wink with her reply. Chris admired Sally. They had a friendship no one could quite understand but everyone who saw them admired what they had. Sally secretly had always had a soft spot for Chris; you know that little feeling that pulls on your heart strings. This usually came to the surface when Chris would accidently rub his hand along hers and when they had moments of silence but they ended up breathing at the same time, when there was no need to speak. Sally was popular with everyone and other boys were interested but in her eighteen years she’d never found someone she had a bond with quite like Chris. Chris had never had a girlfriend. Anytime he was asked why his reply was he never had time, between college and playing his guitar, which was a hobby to fill in his spare time. College was always the same. Four days a week, the same days every week. Walking into college Chris walked with his head down, Sally always got on at him for this saying it looked rude. Monday 9am, Physics. ‘This must be the most boring thing ever, wish he would shut up already,’ Chris wished he could say aloud as his lecturer speaks, which sounded like mumbling while channelling into Chris’s ears. College days always seemed to drag on this way, apart from the days with Ben. Chris rather enjoyed these days and they only came twice out of the four days he would be at college, two days a week, one hour on each day. Chris found him interesting. Seeing Ben would make his day. Chris could pick him out of a crowd of fifty people, as if searching for Wally from the Where’s Wally book which he still kept under his bed along with his diary. College ended, although it seemed as though it had gone on forever. “Pasta for tea?” “Yeah ok,” Chris replied, without any eye contact making his way back to his room. Chris lay on the bed as if he had run a marathon and hadn’t had a rest for hours. Then he pulled out his diary, reading over the last thing he had written from two nights ago. ‘I was close to telling Sally today, but she wouldn’t stop going on about her dad and how he is teaching her how to drive. This is when I miss my dad. To teach me things and for him to be proud. I do hope he is proud of what I have achieved. At six I hadn’t shown him anything I could do by myself apart from riding my bike without stabilizers. Over the page, ‘I hate the way I am. How I don’t even want to kiss Sally and she’s perfect in so many ways, my best friend. She is going to start hating me if I don’t explain why; this is the second time she has tried to kiss me. Sally would only be disappointed. I can’t lose her. The worst thought is my dad turning in his grave at the thought of his son thinking, thinking of...’ A tear splats on the page and many trickle down his face like the rain drops crawling down the bus windows from this morning. Mum was sat opposite Chris at the dinner table for three, with his dad’s space left. It was as if there was a whoopee cushion on that chair. No one sat there. Conversation between the two was always the same. The questions about their day but they drifted apart more each day. His mum had stopped taking an interest in him, that’s what Chris thought. Although it was only as his eyes, his piercing blue eyes as bright as the sea with the sun shining over it, reminded her of his dad’s eyes. Chris didn’t write in his diary that night and his mind was full of thoughts about telling Sally, telling his mum. Thinking so deep about it he drifted with a smile on his face, as if he thought he’d done it. Chris thought he’d been true, true to his family, true to himself. The bleeping of his alarm went for a minute and a half, before Chris woke. Standing in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection tall and thin, re assuring himself. ‘They could never know, they wouldn’t know, it is not obvious. It is my secret.’


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