Prelude to Me: Zeke's Story
A.N: Obviously a story about Zeke, from his POV. People are going to think I'm obsessed with the Faculty, oh well. ^-^ This is just a little idea I had that I thought might be interesting to explore. Of course, the usual disclaimer: I do not own the following: The Faculty, Seventeen magazine, or Chevy. Ok, on with the show. (Reviews always appreciated!)
Maybe it was that stupid interview with Seventeen magazines that did it. Or maybe it was that hit on the head from practice last Tuesday. Or maybe it was just the whole ordeal that started this mess. I don't know what did it, but something did. Something made me remember made these memories resurface after I had buried them years ago. I try to hold them off, to keep them away, but even if I fend them off during the day, they attack me at night, plaguing my dreams.
The girl that interviewed me, a hot chick named Tori, asked all these questions about my past. I avoided all of them, why couldn't she just stick to the topic of me saving the world from aliens? but they didn't fall on deaf ears. She asked me to pick some words that describe me, boy are there a ton.
Quarterback. Hero. Hottie. Those are just to name a few, but there were also some I didn't name. Druggie. Failure. Abandoned. Lonely. That dang girl, it's all her fault! Everything I buried is back, and I can't run forever. Maybe I should start at the beginning, that's always a good place to start. Brilliant Zeke, simply brilliant!
I was one of those "Oops, I got pregnant," kids. You know the kind. My mother was nineteen, fresh out of high school, and head over heels in love with my dad. He was just over twenty-one and in his sophomore year of college when they got married. After Nicole, my mother, was pregnant, the first thing my father, Nick, did was go out and buy a ring. Nick and Nicole, a match made in heaven.
They married a few months later and rented a small apartment downtown. Nicole took on a part time job at a bookstore café place, to help pay for bills, even though she would take maternity leave in a few months. My father, between studying, and caring for his new wife, worked on campus. Though stressed, wondering where the money for the next meal would come, they were happy, eagerly anticipating their new son.
Then I came. It was a dreary autumn day when Nicole went into labor. Nick was ecstatic and blundering, as most fathers are. He loaded my mom into his old Chevy truck, and was soon on the way to the hospital. But apparently I was to eager, either that, or dad was to slow, because I popped out before they could get there. Yeah, I was born in an old, rusty cab of a truck. Nick fainted on the side of the road, leaving me and mom stuck in the car until a police car pulled over and helped us all out.
I can say, life was good for a while. We were a happy family, the three of us, in our little apartment downtown. I can remember mom taking me to work where I would wander around the shop, the smell of coffee and fresh pages always filling my nose. I learned to read there, in the small kid's section in the corner, with the worn out red couch. Like I said, good times, good memories.
Good times never last forever.
A.N: Obviously a story about Zeke, from his POV. People are going to think I'm obsessed with the Faculty, oh well. ^-^ This is just a little idea I had that I thought might be interesting to explore. Of course, the usual disclaimer: I do not own the following: The Faculty, Seventeen magazine, or Chevy. Ok, on with the show. (Reviews always appreciated!)
Maybe it was that stupid interview with Seventeen magazines that did it. Or maybe it was that hit on the head from practice last Tuesday. Or maybe it was just the whole ordeal that started this mess. I don't know what did it, but something did. Something made me remember made these memories resurface after I had buried them years ago. I try to hold them off, to keep them away, but even if I fend them off during the day, they attack me at night, plaguing my dreams.
The girl that interviewed me, a hot chick named Tori, asked all these questions about my past. I avoided all of them, why couldn't she just stick to the topic of me saving the world from aliens? but they didn't fall on deaf ears. She asked me to pick some words that describe me, boy are there a ton.
Quarterback. Hero. Hottie. Those are just to name a few, but there were also some I didn't name. Druggie. Failure. Abandoned. Lonely. That dang girl, it's all her fault! Everything I buried is back, and I can't run forever. Maybe I should start at the beginning, that's always a good place to start. Brilliant Zeke, simply brilliant!
I was one of those "Oops, I got pregnant," kids. You know the kind. My mother was nineteen, fresh out of high school, and head over heels in love with my dad. He was just over twenty-one and in his sophomore year of college when they got married. After Nicole, my mother, was pregnant, the first thing my father, Nick, did was go out and buy a ring. Nick and Nicole, a match made in heaven.
They married a few months later and rented a small apartment downtown. Nicole took on a part time job at a bookstore café place, to help pay for bills, even though she would take maternity leave in a few months. My father, between studying, and caring for his new wife, worked on campus. Though stressed, wondering where the money for the next meal would come, they were happy, eagerly anticipating their new son.
Then I came. It was a dreary autumn day when Nicole went into labor. Nick was ecstatic and blundering, as most fathers are. He loaded my mom into his old Chevy truck, and was soon on the way to the hospital. But apparently I was to eager, either that, or dad was to slow, because I popped out before they could get there. Yeah, I was born in an old, rusty cab of a truck. Nick fainted on the side of the road, leaving me and mom stuck in the car until a police car pulled over and helped us all out.
I can say, life was good for a while. We were a happy family, the three of us, in our little apartment downtown. I can remember mom taking me to work where I would wander around the shop, the smell of coffee and fresh pages always filling my nose. I learned to read there, in the small kid's section in the corner, with the worn out red couch. Like I said, good times, good memories.
Good times never last forever.