American Royalty

You know what? I’m not quite sure if I even like potato chips anyway. My mother didn’t like normal American junk and didn’t let me and Sonya eat them at all. Only maybe one every three months or something similar to that.

And when I finally decide to treat myself to excessive amounts of salt and fat, I don’t even get my money’s worth—literally.

The wretched chip packet is stuck and I’d rather not kick the machine in fear of looking more of an idiot than these public school kids already view me as.

Then a foil packet is shoved in my hands and a girl with wide eyes the color of grass in spring is turning away to sit at her table, all alone. I cough at the lingering smell she leaves, probably a really bad perfume.

It turns out she has a name that I’ve only ever seen given to boys, her perfume is au de marijuana, and she’s oblivious to the secret judging I’m doing behind her offer of friendship (after my inquiry, of course).

But by no means am I in the position to be picky of the caliber of my friends. Look at the seemingly endless I have to take what I can get, even if it is dazed druggie Cooper Motley who isn’t related to a heavy metal band full of alcoholic stoners.

The bell rings, I scramble to my feet and after Cooper’s words “it’s a date” I’m out the cafeteria and hastily making my way through the crowded corridors.

There’s girls giggling, guys making suggestive noises, excessive amounts of public displays of affection, a certain blonde disappearing into the room with the guy that assaulted me. Alcoholic Andrea, that is.

I ignore it; I can’t afford to be pining over a public school girl who’ll probably end up behind the cash register of the local supermarket popping gum and finding it in her hair the next day.

Christ, I need friends that are guys.

---

When I got into the car after my very first day, Sonya took one look at me and then she’s in the world of laughter.

My sister doesn’t have a musical sounding laugh, or even those guffaws with an excusable snort in between. Her laughs are more like an asthmatic after a few laps about the track, or take it from me when I run just one lap around. I sound like a dying elephant.

Sonya sounds exactly like that from her place in the front seat, her purple painted fingers clutching her sides like they were the only thing keeping her organs and guts inside her body.

“Toby? What did you do to your face?” asks my mother absentmindedly, left hand on the wheel and right hand on her lap, no doubt itching to tap away at her Blackberry like the workaholic she is.

“It’s ‘cos of his sweater—“

“I fell down the stairs, is all,” I interrupt my sister quickly. “Nothing concerning that should warrant your concern.”

Mother heaves a sigh as if I’m an annoying rodent inside the walls that she can’t kill lest she drives a baseball bat through. “If you say so, boy.”

Sonya’s onto me as soon as we get home, manoeuvring her way through all the neatly stacked up unopened boxes and into the plainness that is my room. She leans by the door and her eyebrows form meticulous arrows.

“I told you so.”

“I don’t recall you telling me anything,” I glare at her pointedly, taking off my sweater and folding it neatly.

“Let’s face it, dearest brother,” Sonya mocks, one of her favorite hobbies. “Somebody gave you a coupl’a hits.”

I snap, and it wasn’t even at the profanity but that I didn’t like being told that my pride was severely ruined by some buff blond guy just because he didn’t like my clothing or whatever. “I was not violently assaulted. As I said; I fell down the stairs.”

Sonya snorts and makes herself comfortable on my tidily made bed. “If that’s the story you’re sticking with then somebody pushed you down the stairs.”

I remain silent, pulling out my exercise books and pencil case.

“Look, Toby,” Sonya sighs, and the hands on the hips thing she’s got going stops. “I know that either you’re too proud or too stupid to conform to society but you’re gonna have to if you plan on surviving the rest of high school.”

“It’s not the rest of high school, Sonya,” I mumble, sitting straight next to her slumped form. “It’s only temporary, you know. Father will send me to a boarding school in New York and then I won’t have to do any conforming at all.”

Looking sympathetic, Sonya pats my knee. “I don’t think so, Toby. Boarding school is a shitload of money, isn’t it? We moved here ‘cause our old house was getting too expensive to pay. If dad and mum can’t pay for the freaking house, how can they afford to send you to a fancy schmancy school?”

“They wouldn’t do that to us. Education is important, I need it.”

“And you’re getting it, Toby. Just not the boarding school education that you oh so desperately want to have. Sorry dude, but it’s public school for now.”

We sit in silence for a while, just rays of sunlight peeking through the slits of the window blinds, golden and radiant.

Sort of like alcoholic Andy with the bedroom eyes in Precalculus.

I open my mouth. “There’s a girl at my school. She wore this colorful skirt that nearly blinded me. Her name’s Andy and I suppose that’s short for Andrea. She has golden hair like sunlight, and I don’t think she’s the type to conform to society as you say, but rather people would imitate her.”

“Popular girl, then?” asks an attentive Sonya, her hazel eyes covered by her thick eyelids and too black eyelashes.

I push my glasses up my nose. “I think so. She implied that I was a try-hard homo hipster with an above average intelligence.”

Sonya barks out a laugh. “This girl is funny. I think I approve of you being completely smitten with her, Tobias Szekely.”

“I am not smitten.”

“So who punched you or whatever, then? I wasn’t going to ask but I figure that I piss you off on an hourly basis so I have nothing to lose. Tell me, c’mon Tobias, don’t be shy.”

I wince. The school nurse didn’t give me much thought when I showed up, blood dripping from my nose and one step away from being hysterical and begging for my mother to come pick me up and bake me a plate of cookies.

“Spill it, Tobias.”

“A boy who apparently knows nothing but the art of breaking noses.” I add a shrug for my show of nonchalance, and I even slouched.

Sonya straightens up with a gasp. “What the hell, Tobias? You’ve got a broken nose and you didn’t even bother to go to the school nurse?!”

I scowl at her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sonya. I’m only exaggerating, and as if I’d be stupid enough to ignore medical attention when it’s necessary.”

“Well, you were stupid enough to ignore my warning to avoid psychological scarring. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t get some ‘medical attention’.” Sonya returns, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

“But I did, so go to your room and don’t disturb me.” I point to the closed door meaningfully.

My sister puts her hands up in defeat, and backs towards the door. “Chillax, brother. Would you like some make up to go with that hideous face you have there?”

“I appreciate the offer, but no thank you.”

“Whatever.” And the door slams shut again.